#and just hide away from the internet so I’m not constantly reminded that everyone else’s dads are still alive

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson angst #pete davidson fluff

[sparklysung]

✨ADRENALINE RUSH – n.j.m.✨

© sparklysung – 2021. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – na jaemin x female!reader

genre – smut, slight angst | non-idol!au, school!au

warnings – good boy!virgin!jaemin, bad girl!experienced!reader, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), breeding kink, slight exhibitionism (library), creampie, marking, overstimulation

word count – 3.416 words

note – i got too much into it lol. it turned out so long, i’m sorry for that. i do hope you like it, i’ve been working on it for a few days now and it’s been rough. i’m hoping there aren’t too many errors, and if there are i apologize in advance, i know they are annoying. either way enjoy!

summary – as the local bad girl, your reputation was rather infamous. jaemin knew this and so he tried his best to stay away from you. but after getting paired up for a genetics project, he didn’t stand a chance against your desire to ruin his innocence.

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon​, @carelessshootanonymous

part i ; part ii

you were mindlessly playing with your pen, doodling on the margins of your notebook, ignoring completely what your genetics professor was explaining on the board in the front of the classroom. 

that’s how class usually was for you; not paying attention to anything, just messing around with your highlighters, drawing more doodles to add to your collection or observing your classmates –not in a creepy way, though–. your professor wasn’t that clueless for you to nap until the end of the class, so you took advantage of whatever could keep you awake. 

when your hand started to cramp due to the constant movement, you started looking around the room with a bored expression, letting your thoughts go to anything and everything that seemed the tiniest bit interesting. that was until he caught your eye.

na jaemin. perfect na jaemin. excellent grades, the teacher’s pet, always so polite to everyone. the type of guy every parent would want their daughter to date and the perfect role model.

and you were the opposite. you never really cared about school; getting high scores was useless from your point of view, so you never took it seriously. you were used to sneaking out of your house to attend parties and going home drunk with a different guy each weekend –cause life is short and why not–. your lifestyle earned you a ‘bad girl’ reputation, as well as the protagonism of multiple not-so-nice rumours.

you two were so different from one another, belonged to completely different worlds.

that’s why you were so intrigued by him.

it’s not like this was the first time you notice him, you can’t just not notice him. he was gorgeous, to say the least; perfect face, flawless skin, sparkly round eyes adorned with long eyelashes, pink plush lips, fluffy hair with soft dark locks that fell beautifully on his forehead, framing the soft expression on his face. oh yeah, how could you forget that long neck of his, with a prominent adam’s apple that made your mouth water with the thought of marking it with purplish bites. you’ve wanted to ruin him since the first day you laid eyes on him, make him break under your touch and need you as much as he needs oxygen to breathe.

“so, before the class comes to an end, i’m going to assign you in pairs for the project i was talking to you about a few minutes ago.” groans of annoyance were heard from all around the room, finally making you pay attention.

as the professor began mentioning the pairs, your attention drifted once again towards jaemin. he looked genuinely interested in what was being said; eyebrows furrowed in concentration while waiting for his name to be called.

“kim sohee and lee donghyuck,” your eyes wandered down toward his broad shoulders, strong arms and slender fingers. your teeth nibbled with your bottom lip, nails sinking against the palm of your hand as you felt your panties grow damp by the sole idea of him fingering you. 

“na jaemin and y/l y/n,” your head snapped first in the direction of your professor, and then to his, who looked rather nervous sitting down a few desks in front of you, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. indeed, jaemin was nervous, so nervous that he felt like he was about to pass out. he could feel the looks full of pity his friends were throwing at him and it was making him feel even worse. he wasn’t too pleased either with the shot of excitement and anticipation he felt spreading across his body. you looked down at your hands, hair slightly covering your face as you tried to hide your devilish smirk.

you didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the pairs, being already too immersed in thoughts about every possible scenario that could take place while you two worked together on the project.

~.~.~.~

as soon as class ended, you threw your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards jaemin’s table and earning a couple of looks of disapproval from his friends. not letting that affect you, you approached him with a sweet smile plastered on your face. “hey,” his face shot up to look at you, hands still working on getting all his belongings inside his bag. straightening his back, he tried to look unaffected by your presence. he nodded his head shortly as a greeting and decided to get this over with as fast as he could.

“let’s work on the project at the library, right after class,” jaemin said, trying to sound confident, but you could see right through him; he was nervous. he figured that a place full of people was less risky rather than either of your houses, where you’d be alone and the possibility of something happening was a lot higher. you shrugged your shoulders, not really minding the location, “see you later, pretty boy.” you winked at him before making your way out of the room, leaving a flustered jaemin behind.

you were bad news, your name only coming up in conversations about breaking the rules, hookups during parties with lots of alcohol involved and other rumours. he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, all about you screamed ‘danger, beware’. and his friends had warned him, always making sure to constantly remind him not to get closer than needed or he would be doomed. but he couldn’t stop the fast beating of his heart nor the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. 

jaemin was certain this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him.

and he was right.

~.~.~.~

a few hours later, jaemin and you were sat side by side on a slightly secluded table. he decided against sitting close to the entrance, as the internet connexion wasn’t so good and you were required to do internet research. he felt on edge every time your thigh brushed lightly against his, though he wasn’t sure if you knew what you were doing or if you were completely oblivious to the small touches.

but you sure weren’t oblivious of the way his body reacted with each of them, fingers gripping tightly the edges of the book he had opened in front of him. you on the other hand pretended to not notice, intently reading the thesis you had found in google scholars about multifactorial and complex diseases.

at some point, you figured it was time to make your move and shoot your shot. it seemed like he liked your proximity and lingering touches, as he had never –in all the time you’ve spent in the library– made an attempt to pull away or make you stop. also, by the look of the prominent tent forming inside his school pants, he appeared to actually be really fond of it. smiling to yourself, you continued as if nothing happened.

jaemin was internally panicking, he was aware that eventually you were going to notice his little –not so little– problem. he wanted to either bury himself underground or lock himself inside his room and wait until he passed away from inanition, starvation or dehydration, whatever happened first. he tried thinking about disgusting things to make it go away, like strawberries or the time when he was dared to lick his friend donghyuck’s sweaty foot, but nothing seemed to work.

you could make out the outline of his hard dick from the inside of his pants, biting your lips to contain the smirk making its way to your face. your hand snaked up his thigh until it was close to where he most needed you, making him shudder and squirm nervously under your touch. “w-what are you doing?”, he managed to ask, swallowing the lump in his throat. this was the first time a hand that wasn’t his own was touching him. because, of course, he wasn’t that innocent. he had needs like every guy his age, hormones all over the place and making him painfully aware of the pretty girl sitting so close to him. your scent intoxicating and addictive, almost making him lean closer.

you didn’t even care to respond, too fascinated by the feeling of his clothed member against your hand, hot and heavy. “s-stop, this isn’t right, w-we can’t do this here.” the panic present on his voice made a chuckle fall from your lips, making jaemin shrink in his seat. 

“someone’s gonna hear us, w-we’ll get caught.” he didn’t know what else to tell you to make you stop, how could he convince you to stop when he didn’t want you to? you ignored his words and kept going, the idea of getting caught causing wetness to gather inside your panties. “then you’ll have to keep quiet,” the moan that slipped from his lips made you rub your thighs together to ease some of the tension.

you freed his member from the confines of his pants and briefs, pulling them down just enough for you to have easy access to it, but not so much to make it too obvious. he was big; thick enough to stretch you out nicely. you hummed in approval, spitting in the palm of your hand, going to grab ahold of his cock and slowly start to pump him. jaemin threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed shut and mouth agape in a silent moan. “does it feel good baby?” he hummed quietly, not trusting his voice. he leaned his body closer to yours, chest against your side while his head rested on your shoulder. “so needy”, you mumbled mockingly, to which his hips bucked slightly.

jaemin felt in cloud 9 having your soft hand wrapped tightly around his sensitive dick. he knew all of this was wrong, but it felt so good. he opened his eyes enough to be able to see you work on his shaft. your thumb flicked against his slit as it spread the leaking precum from the tip to the base. he was trying his best to avoid letting out any sound, afraid of drawing unwanted attention.

you could feel he was getting close by the stuttering of his hips, desperately thrusting back against your fist. and, as much as you wanted to see his face while cumming, you weren’t going to let him just yet. you needed him and you needed him now, your slick arousal starting to run down your inner thighs. you’ve had enough.

your hand stopped its ministrations, making him whine softly at the loss of friction. moving to straddle his thighs, you threw your leg over his until you were comfortably sitting on his lap, skirt riding up from your new position. your thin arms snaked around his neck, one going to tangle in his hair and the other to caress his jaw. his hands positioned themselves instantly in your hips, holding onto you for dear life. his eyes nervously wandered over your shoulder, making sure nobody was paying attention to what you both were doing.

you pulled his chin to get him to look at you, eyes hooded and filled with lust. you looked so hot, face flushed a pretty tone of red, eyes sparkling with mischief. he knew he would be jacking off to the thought of you for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of his life.

his thoughts were interrupted, heavy lids almost closing once again and mind going blank, as he felt you roll your hips against his hard cock, which was standing tall in between your bodies. biting your lip, you leaned in to kiss his, feeling for the first time his plump, soft pink lips against yours. a moan escaped your mouth at the sweet taste of his tongue, fighting against your desperately as if he would never be able to savour you again.

rising from his lap slightly, you used one of your hands to position the tip of his cock against your entrance and the other to push your panties aside. a soft groan left jaemin’s lips as he felt the wetness of your core. as you were about to lower yourself on him, he stopped you, fingers digging against your sides. “i-i have never done anything like this with anyone.” if you were being honest, you found his nervous stutter quite endearing. “then let me ruin you.” that was all it took for him to give in to you.

you pumped him a few more times, making sure to completely coat his shaft with both of your arousals. as you lowered yourself on him, you pulled him in for a heated kiss, swallowing his sounds of pleasure. when you had finally engulfed the entirety of his cock, you began moving your hips in circular motions, waiting for the both of you to get used to the feeling. the friction made him pull you closer, face buried in the crook of your neck while small whimpers left his lips, going straight to your core. your walls clenched around him tightly, drawing a loud groan from his chest, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you kept kissing him, swallowing his groans and moans. he felt so good filling you up with his hard cock, he fit perfectly inside of you, as if he was made just for you; like a puzzle piece. “you feel so good, baby, stretching me out, so so good,” you praised him sweetly, hand running through his soft locks.

jaemin seemed to be unable to get enough of you. he didn’t want this to end, he wanted to stay with you –preferably inside of you–, be able to feel you so close and know he is the one who is making you feel so good.

“wait, fuck,” he gasped trying to catch his breath, “wait, i’m g-gonna cum if you keep going.” it hadn’t been long, but he was already worked up since you started touching him earlier. “is that so? remember we’re not using a condom, baby. if you cum inside me i could get pregnant.” you hummed, trying to get a reaction to your words out of him. and you got it as a higher pitched moan fell from his lips, feeling his grip on your waist tighten.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, huh?” you quirked an eyebrow, smirking to yourself when you felt him twitch inside of you. “yes”, he whimpered, vision blurred, the pleasure overpowering the fear of being caught. he found himself enjoying the thrill more than he should, almost embarrassed with how easily you could make him lose all his self-control. he knew you were playing with his mind, pushing him just enough to make him risk everything; his reputation, his image. exactly how you managed to get him to lose his innocence.

“what a filthy little boy, who would have guessed perfect student na jaemin was so much of a slut”, you whispered in his ear while raking your nails down his chest. jaemin could only buck his hips to meet yours, desperate to feel more, thighs burning from the effort. he was getting restless, unable to keep quiet as moans rolled off of his tongue with every roll of your hips. your mouth attached itself to his neck, biting harshly to leave pretty red marks that were soon to become purple. the sound of pages turning and typing on the library’s computers reminding you of where you were.

“please, i’m so close,” he didn’t even know what he was pleading for anymore, the only thing he knew was that he needed you, all of you, in every way possible; in every way you were willing to let him have you. “wanna cum inside my tight little pussy, baby? wanna fill me up with your hot cum and put your baby inside of me?” with glassy eyes and hot tears threatening to fall down his crimson cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure which was almost making him dizzy, he let out a string of ‘yes, yes, yes’. his hands clutched your hips to bring you closer, digging his nails on the flesh and leaving crescent moon shaped marks. a moan slipped from your lips, only increasing his desperation.

you picked up your pace, your naked thighs slapping lightly against his clothed ones. the both of you could hear the wet mewls your cunt made every time you lowered yourself on him until he was balls deep inside of you. his hips raised to meet yours, hitting your most sensitive spot with the tip of his cock, as he tried to match your fast rhythm.

jaemin didn’t know what to do with himself. he knew he had to be quiet or else someone was going to realize what was going on, but he physically couldn’t hold the sounds in. in fact, he could almost taste the faint taste of copper from biting too harshly on the flesh of his lips. on the other hand, you didn’t seem to have as much trouble to keep your cool, as only a couple of sighs of pleasure left your lips from time to time. little did jaemin know you were struggling to keep your mouth shut. every thrust of his hips causing him to hit deeper, the fucked out look in his face motivating you to go faster.

though you weren’t as close to cumming as he was, you knew this was his first time and it seemed like he was about to combust. it wouldn’t be so nice of you to make him wait longer, would it? “cum for me baby boy,” and that’s all it took for jaemin to reach his high, hips stuttering and hands trembling. feeling his seed paint your velvet walls, your hand went down your body to find your clit, starting to rub circles against your sensitive bud. a wave of pleasure shot through your body and made your hips jerk roughly against him. the sob jaemin let out went straight to your core making your climax approach faster than you would have thought.

taking advantage of the slippery mess he had made of the both of you, you slid up and down on him faster and with more strength. jaemin, seeing as you weren’t going to stop anytime soon, started growing impatient. “t-to much, p–ah, please, it’s too much”, but you didn’t stop, gripping his strong arms and grinding harder against him. “no, no, please, it hurts” he cried out desperately, begging you to stop bouncing on his oversensitive cock. you shook your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. you smacked your mouths together, diving in for another sloppy kiss that had jaemin weak on the knees and a moaning mess.

when you tore away from him, jaemin brought his fist to his face and bit it hard, trying equally as hard to control himself. his second orgasm of the day was coming closer and oh was it going to be strong. when it finally happened, his eyes rolled to the back, head dropping back. that was the last straw as you felt yourself coming, walls tightening and clenching around him to milk him dry, the movements of your hand becoming sloppy. he felt light-headed, slightly blacking out for a few seconds until he managed to recover his consciousness.

using his shoulders to help yourself off of him, you let him slip out of you. jaemin winced from the oversensitivity, hands quickly tucking himself inside his pants. as you fixed your ruined panties and messy hair, properly tidying up your clothes, you once again threw your bag over your shoulder. he eyed you with a disoriented look in his face, confused as to what you were doing.

he saw you turn around on your heels before walking out of the library, only your panties preventing his cum from running down your thighs. you left him there, without a single word, not even spared him a glance. you walked away from him as if you didn’t just fuck the life out of him, as if he hadn’t just gifted you his virginity, or more like as if you hadn’t just stolen it. as if all the kisses you shared and loving pet names you used on him meant nothing.

and the worst part of it all was the pang of hurt jaemin felt in his heart when realization fell down on him like a bucket of cold water.

to you, that moment meant nothing. because to you, he didn’t mean anything.

–lia:)

#jaemin #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream #nct u #nct imagines #nct au #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop boys #smut #nct #nct x reader #nct 00 line #00 line #jaemin writing #jaemin fanfic

[writella]

Dating Luke Patterson

Luke Patterson x reader

World count: 3.8k (yes, for a headcanon, let’s not talk about it. Or is this normal? Idk.)

A/N: I made this WAY too long but hopefully you can think of this as your ultimate guide because of it, enjoy!

-

-

• Luke is a VERY affectionate and loving boyfriend, both physically and emotionally.

• Physically:

- This boy would want to touch you anywhere and everywhere and be around you all the time.

- He’d caress your face, stand behind you and rub your shoulders and arms, hug your waist or shoulders from behind, play with your hair, fidget with your bracelets or whatever accessories you’d have on, play with your hands, have his hand on the center of your back...

- Even if he saw an eyelash on your face he wouldn’t hesitate to get it for you instead of telling you about it.

- Anyway to touch you, he’d go for it.

- He’d like to kiss your nose or your forehead when he says goodbye to you.

- When you’re alone he’d like Eskimo kisses.

- He just basks in being in your presence.

- Whether you liked to receive / give physical affection or not, you always have to remember to be a little extra affectionate with him because he really enjoys it.

- He likes knowing you’re there and that you care. He does that for everyone else, so if you do it, he’d really appreciate it.

- He likes the lingering touches the best, like intertwining your fingers together, or when you play with his hair (even though sometimes he doesn’t want it to get messed up), or you rubbing his shoulders like he does to you.

• Emotionally:

- He would be your number one supporter.

- He’d push to try new things or to speak your mind even if you’re afraid.

- He’d compliment you all the time. Saying that the band would be hopeless without you, or by telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, or how talented you are, or by marveling at your artistic or scholastic accomplishments.

- Tell you uplifting stories or give you words of encouragement when you’re feeling down.

• You love that he’s always so smiley and how his nose crinkles and eyes get all squinty when he’s cheesin’ hard.

• You think he’s sunshine personified by the way he is able to brighten up not only your day, but everyone’s day.

• He thinks you’re an angel because of the way you lighten up everyone’s life. Not to mention how you are the first to help, listen, or give advice to anyone in the band.

• Before you start dating, his heart would beat frantically when he saw you.

• After you’re together though, that would fade, but not because the excitement he feels when you’re around would go away, but because you’d become his safe place. Knowing that the person he could confide to always was around would bring a warm and content feeling all around him.

• Luke would be a romantic. We see this because of the way he always sees the bigger picture by constantly looking on the brighter side of things and by the way he writes poetry within his song lyrics, so he would treat your relationship the same way. He’d write you notes or make the band throw you a private concert or play an acoustic cover or original song just for you.

• He’d let you wear his chains or bracelets from time to time or you’d steal them.

• You’d like to play with the rings on his hand.

• You would probably get him some rings or chains to add to his collection.

• Getting a reaction out of you is his favorite thing.

• No matter how far into your relationship you are he’d still like to flirt in order to make your blush.

• If you were a writer / singer / musician he would ask you what you think of some lyrics he’s written or is thinking about writing down, but even if you weren’t, he would ask you anyways because he values your opinions and ideas.

• He either let you take or you’d steal some of his band tees. He’d get major heart eyes seeing you in them. Thinking you looked gorgeous in. his. clothes.

• He’d always give you a wink when he was on stage and saw you in the crowd or backstage.

• If you didn’t know how to play an instrument, he would want to teach you to play guitar. He just wants to share his passion.

• He’d introduce you to music you’d never listened to and you’d introduce him to 2000s + recent stuff that you think he’d like.

• When he’s in your room he’s be so nosy and look through all your stuff, but honestly, when you were in his room (if this was 90s) you’d do the same (he’d have so many CDs and other weird interesting stuff.)

Dating Ghost!Luke:

• So you can see him!

• Maybe you’re Julie’s close friend or sibling.

• You’d really enjoy that you and Julie get to have such special friendships with all three of the guys.

• Perhaps you’d never had a sense of belonging like that, and now you had a group of people you could always rely on to be there for you and understand you.

• I think it would make you and Julie closer.

• Luke would obviously be a goner for you right when he saw your face, but since he just loves to be close to everyone you couldn’t tell.

• You’d probably think if he had a crush on anyone it was Julie because of how great they look when they sing together despite how sweetly or flirtatiously he would talk to you. 

• You’d just assume he was like that with everyone.

• Julie, Alex, and Reggie would see how much he liked you though.

• You and Julie would teach the guys about the internet, different innovations, etc.

• Luke’s way of getting to talk to you more, other than pestering you with questions about yourself, would definitely be asking you about how to do this and that online, or just to talk to you about how things have changed so you can put it into perspective for him.

• He’d really like listening to your voice. He would hang onto every word.

• And you really liked his voice too, both singing and speaking, so whatever questions he asked you, you would always forward them back to him. You liked how passionately he spoke about everything. You also, hung onto every word.

• If you couldn’t touch, despite knowing that there was obviously more than friendship going on between the two of you, you’d be reluctant to tell each other of your feelings.

• When the truth comes out however you decide to make it work.

• But if you could touch, Luke would of course be the happiest guy on Earth and never let go of you.

• The band remembers to give you guys alone time in the garage or in Julie’s / your room sometimes, so you can just speak freely with him.

• But you guys also take walks on the beach or the park while you pretend you're on the  phone or have your headphones in so you can have a change of scenery.

• You would be the glue of the group / band.

• If you weren’t a part of the band (like singing / playing an instrument specifically) it would probably be easiest for you to see their band spats in an unbiased and reasonable manner.

• You’d make sure to ask Alex how he’s doing because you know he’s always got something on his mind, but doesn’t always share unless asked.

• You’d make sure to always find something fun to do with Reggie from time to time, or just start up a conversation with him about mundane things.

• You see how he likes to watch Ray and Carlos all the time, so you wonder if maybe he just wants some kind of familial connection, and you decide that it’ll be you.

• I think he’d appreciate how you take the time to ask him questions and listen to his answers seriously, despite how he says things in such a humorous tone, and you’d appreciate how surprisingly observant he is (e.g. he noticed Ray was worried about Julie by how he had been stress eating all week. Reggie is a sweet boy who cares, guys.)

• You realize you both have hidden traits that no one gives you credit for except each other.

• Luke would like how you had a unique relationship with everyone and truly put in the effort to make sure each one is personalized between you and that person. It reminded him of himself— Always trying to give a little love to everyone — It would make him that much more fond of you.

• You’d settle arguments between the guys.

• Or maybe even little arguments between Julie and Luke. Although neither could stay mad at each other for long (honestly being “mad” at each other wouldn’t even be the word), but sometimes they took opposing sides to different situations like where to add a certain verse or about a poor decision Julie felt the guys made (like haunting Bobby or going to Caleb’s), so you’d be there to give an outside opinion or to calm the heated moments.

• He’d like to stare at you whenever he could. When you were in the garage talking to Julie or Flynn or if it’s 90s!Luke he’d do it in class or in the hallways. 

• Either Julie or Alex would say he’s a creep for staring but Luke would say he’s just admiring.

• Little did he know you did the same.

• And now, speaking of 90s Luke...

Dating Alive!Luke:

• Okay, so we’re in the 90s and he’s in high school.

• He either met you because you share a class together and he thought you were pretty (and you thought he was beautiful, of course) or you and Alex shared a class together and he befriended you.

• Let’s say it’s Alex: you guys would bond over the fact that presentations are stupid and only done to make people feel uncomfortable and ultimately humiliate themselves.

• When Alex didn’t have a class with Reggie and or Luke he’d feel lonely but if you were there, you could now be a person he could go to, so you two could be lonely together.

• Even if you guys didn’t have much in common the fact that you were easy to talk to, always decided to be partners with him, or help each other out in class gave him comfort, so maybe one day he’d ask you to sit with him at lunch or see a gig his band managed to get.

• You go (You can choose which, I’m making it a choose your own adventure for about a whole second. Enjoy.) and boom enter Luke and his sunshine eyes, pretty hair, GORGEOUS arms, a muscle tee, along with his classic vans and you’re like , WHOA, but you try to hide it.

• And Luke is like, WHOA, but he tries to hide it.

• And Alex is like, “Of course.”

• And Reggie is like, “Hi I’m Reggie. We’re Sunset Curve, tell you friends.”

• And you’re like, “But I don’t have (m)any friends.”

• And Alex is like, “That’s okay I only have three (3) friends and before that I had none!”

• And Luke is like, “I’ll be your friend 👀”

• And Reggie is like, “By the way he’s looking at you, I think he wants to be more than just ‘friends’ 😏😉”

• And Luke is like, “🤡”

• And Alex is like, “🤡”

• And Reggie is like, “🤠?”

• And you’re like, *internally SCREAMING*

• Here comes that mutual pining.

• Alex starts to bring you around more often which helps you to get closer to all three of them, but especially Luke, who will ask you a series of never ending questions about yourself.

• You think Luke is just really nice and that's why he's so friendly when you’re around, but in actuality he just wants to know all about you.

• Alex and Reggie would bother him about it when you’re not around.

• One day, after he just couldn’t take it anymore he’d finally ask you out, or just kisses you unexpectedly because Luke acts before he thinks sometimes.

• The rest is history.

• Anyway...

• He’s a sweetie and probably wouldn’t really talk crap about teachers, but I know he’s not into school either.

• That being said: he’d totally get you to skip one day or quite a few days if he gets you to agree saying “please, please, please,” or telling you that you can afford to miss because you’re so much smarter than him, or just giving you so many kisses you can’t think straight.

• Skipping activities would include:

- Finding some random coffeehouse for him and the band to play impromptu while you watch.

- Adventures in the park or woods: he’s find a grassy place and sing songs to you on his guitar or you’d do something silly like play tag because Luke is a child.

- Sit on the trunk of Alex or Reggie’s car (let's say one of them has one) and have a quick make out session or just talks out life (probably his parental issues) it depends on how he’s feeling that day.

- Or finally, you guys would explore around the school and find rooms you’d never been in or see what the back of the auditorium looked like for the first time. If you guys ever get caught he’d either tell you to hide or run or find some way to get you out of it. He would take full blame, never wanting to get you in trouble.

• Once again, being the romantic he is, he’d probably take you to your first concert, write you cards, come by your locker after every period, take you out on weekends or weekdays whenever he could.

• He’d try to be a gentleman in front of your parents, really wanting them to like him, and he’d try to respect your curfew if you had one, but sometimes he would like to be rebellious (e.g. when he tells Julie to sneak out the window for their first gig) and try to get you to sneak out, especially if it was for something really special he planned. Ex. a moonlight serenade. But again, sometimes this boy doesn’t think, so he’d probably just get you to come out so you could kiss, or talk, or talk and kiss.

• All around, you guys would just have a blast together because Luke’s mission is to bring joy to your life.

• He genuinely loves seeing people happy and if you two were in a relationship, your happiness would definitely be a top top top priority.

• He would burn you CDs.

• He’d love to listen to them with you because he just loves sharing music with you and he just wants to see your reactions right then and there. 

• He’s introduce you to new things and you would talk for hours about music you both liked or movies you loved.

• He’d like to hold your hand in the halls.

• Send you notes in class or even throw them at you or if you were sitting too far apart.

• He’d even tell someone to tell you he had something to say. Down the chain his call would go till the last person closest to you tells you that Luke is asking for you. You’d look and all he’d say is “hi” with the goofiest smile.

• You’d either have no choice but to smile back because of how infectious he is, or if you had enough willpower, you’d roll your eyes and look away. If the latter, he would try again and again till he got you to give in.

• He’d mimic or make faces when the teacher or a classmate said something stupid.

• He’s a little needy that way. He just wants your attention and affection.

• Again, he’d do anything to see you smile and equally as important, bothering you is the only joy he gets out of class whenever he’s not in a class with the guys.

• You’d proofread his essays or any writing that was for any type of English class because when he’s really feeling up to it, he actually puts in effort in his writing assignments.

• You tell him that he’s a good writer and that if the band thing doesn’t work out he could always become a music / poetry teacher.

• “Too bad the band thing is going to work out,” he’d assure you.

• You believed him, but you always just want to let him know he has far more talents than what he, or his teachers, for that matter give him credit for.

• Despite his major confidence in his musical abilities he feels like he falls short in other aspects, something you were surprised to learn about him, so you do your best to compliment him and encourage him.

• But especially in school since he already thinks of it in such low standards.

• When his parents fight with him about the band, you're his safe space. Sometimes he doesn’t like to tell Alex and Reggie about all the gritty details because they have family issues too, but he can always vent to you.

• You like hanging out in his room. His personality is written all over it. Band posters, movie posters, ideas for songs as well as song lyrics he loves taped up to the wall on scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes, it’s a little messy but it’s mostly just clothes and crumpled paper on the floor.

• Unfortunately, you don’t hang there too much because Luke doesn’t always like being around his parents.

• His parents like you though and enjoy when you’re around the house because it means Luke is actually around too.

• They know you encourage him at school and his mother specifically knows he needs that extra support and appreciates you for it.

• She’s told you that she wishes she could show Luke that she wants to give him that, but sometimes Luke gets too preoccupied with his music and has the notion that just because she is concerned about his career choice that she is totally against him.

• Speaking of that, despite how much Luke loves being your boyfriend and tries his best to show you how much he loves you, he’s not always perfect.

• Sometimes music and the band comes between you two as well.

• When he’s really driven on a song idea, whether it be working on the lyrics to a song, composing the music to it , rehearsing it with the band, etc., it will take all his attention.

• When he gets a fixation on something, he can be very single minded.

• All he’ll want to do is be with his thoughts and guitar or with the band that he forgets to check in with you.

• Once you tell him though, he will feel terrible about it. Not seeing how his passion can make him so blind at times.

• “I just get really into it, you know? I’m sorry! I can make it up to you.” His bottom lip would jut out and his eyes would drop dopily. He always looked like such a puppy, you could stay mad for long.

• “How are you going to prove you’re really sorry?” you’d ask knowing this wasn’t the first nor will it be the last time he gets “really into” his music.

• “I’m dropping everything today. It’s just you and me. Promise.” And he’d mean it.

• When Luke knows he’s at fault he will always try 110% to make it right. He doesn’t like it when he hurts people, especially you. He feels like he’s failed in a way.

• He’d show you new snippets of new songs he’s working on.

• You guys would talk endlessly about favorite bands and he would introduce you to ones you’d never heard before.

• You liked when he talked about his favorite musicians. Seeing someone talk passionately about something they loved was always beautiful to witness, but when Luke did it, it was next level.

• He’d literally buzz everywhere, talk super fast, and bounce around. He vibrates happiness and those are the moments where you knew for sure why he was so determined on his goals to make the band work. The love he has is so intense, so undeniable, so unbreakable. You hoped you could find something you loved like that one day. Other than him, of course.

• Oh, wait? Is that how you figure out you love him? For his passionate and brave spirit that did nothing but put a smile on your face all day, everyday? You couldn’t even compute the thought. It felt right, of course, but it was scary.

• You didn’t tell him. I think he’d say I love you first anyway and you’d happily say it back, finally releasing the beautiful realization you held inside for so long.

• He’d want you to go to every gig they got.

• “I can’t do it without you,” he’d say.

• Sometimes he knew you couldn’t though, because he and the band would only get slots in the middle of the night sometimes, or they’d do all-nighters around the city playing on the outsides of clubs just to get noticed.

• Sometimes they would get in trouble, or even ban from some places and he didn’t want you to be a part of that. He’d tell you that he wants you to get your sleep.

• But if it was the weekend, or the summer, or just a day you decided you have the time to be rebellious, you’d love to cheer them on, or maybe you would even be the getaway driver when workers would try to kick them out.

• You’d help Luke and the boys with their homework or school work a lot.

• Whether you were smart or an average student they’d think you were a genius and appreciate how you remind them of assignment deadlines from the classes you’d share. They only went to school to spend time together and outside of school was for music, so they’d probably fail without you.

• Luke would be the first to thank you every time.

• You would be there for him when he ran away. You’d tell him that maybe he should go back and talk to his parents or that maybe it would be best to at least finish high school, but he dismisses both as options immediately, saying that he knows what he wants. That school nor his parents are going to give it to him, so why bother.

• You support him and believe in his dream, but you still worry from time to time. You decide that it's his choice and that you love him, so you just make sure that he is eating, sleeping, and that you’re there for him if he needs someone to talk to or just someone to hug.

Now back to the general stuff:

• He’d give you a nickname. Personally, I think he’d try to shorten your name in some way that hopefully no one else calls you yet so he can feel special.

• Alex and Reggie would probably start calling you by that nickname sometimes too soon after that.

• As for usual nicknames, I think sometimes when he greets you he’d call you “beautiful”

•  “Hey beautiful, how you doin’?” Lets pretend that he watched the first season of Friends in ‘94 and then watched the rest on your laptop after he comes back and be obsessed like Charlie.

• He’d make your laugh a lot. Sometimes because he’s flirty or silly but other times it was because he could just be really dumb (in a sweet way, of course.)

• You would wonder why everyone would call Reggie the clueless one. It seemed like all the guys shared one braincell and Alex just hogged it most of the time.

• He’d love kissing. I don’t think he’d do full on make outs in the halls or in front of the band (not because he's shy though), but when you two were alone, in the garage or in each other's rooms he would be so down, there is no stopping him, and he’d try to make them last as long as he could.

• He would ask for good luck kisses before a show just to get you to touch him, as always.

• When you saw him shirtless for the first time your breath would be taken away. You knew he was probably toned because those sleeveless tees but you still couldn’t predict just how GORGEOUS and HOT he would look, whew.

• He’s probably get cocky for a second because of your speechless reaction.

• But that confidence would go right out the door whenever he saw you without a shirt, his eyes would be blown, totally star struck.

• He’d like to cuddle or rest his head on your lap, especially when he needs to relax from the stress he’s feeling due to his home life or from writing. You’d gently stroke his hair. It would soothe him.

• He’d also like it when you rest your head on his lap too. In those moments, he would take it as full permission to touch you and kiss you up, no complaints.

• Overall, Luke would just love you up and write you pretty songs forever and ever. Best boyfriend.

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Thank you for reading! Who else wants to have this boy as their handsome and adorable ghost boyfriend? I love him.

#julie and the phantoms #my work #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fic #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms imagine

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Welcome To The Pack: To Wakanda

Summary- 7k. Steve Rogers x You. You have been injected with an unknown substance, going into a coma like state and your wolf is unable to be found by the Alpha. Bruce is also at a loss, but there may be someone who can help. Warnings- Smut, use of needles, implied bad stuff from Brock, etc etc. 

A/N- Thank you so much for the love given from everyone for this series. And also being patient with me while my internet is currently being a pain in the ass. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Much Love always. 

A/N 2- feedback is welcome, I really do love hearing what you all think, and ways to improve. 

 Chapter 6 / Pack Masterlist

Tony had a migraine from hell, he was sitting at his desk, his head pounding for some unknown reason. 

<You do know though.> The Wolf sauntered to him, licking his jaws and arching his neck in a stretch. <Ross is breathing down your neck, Clint took off with a jet for an unknown reason, and you haven’t run with your mate in over a week. You should go to Pepper, and retire to Central Park for the day. Or leave the city. That would be even better.>

Tony sighed as he leaned back forward, rubbing at his temple as he opened the drawer and pulled out some painkillers for there kind. A headache required more than the human use of pain relievers. Shaking out a couple of tablets, he popped them, and his Wolf sighed as it pushed to a stand, shaking out his sleek fur and retreated further into Tony’s mind. 

I know your right… I miss Pepper. 

<Well she’s just a few floors down.> The Wolf snarked over his shoulder before leaping further from Tony’s current conscious. Tony pissed him off, he knew that. About to push from his desk to go see his mate, the beast wasn’t wrong in that. Or any of it. It had been too long, just before the went to Steve’s pack, since they redid their bonds, reaffirmed the strength of there mating and the bites, his body ached for hers. Immensely. The migraine resounded in his temples as a reminder.  

It was then Friday buzzed online, making an announcement. ‘Boss, A unauthorized jet approaches.’ And Tony growled even louder this time. “Is it Barton with my jet? It better be.” 

‘Yes, Sir. I’m patching him through right now.’ There was a moment of silence, then a whoosh sound. “Barton? Why the fuck you take my jet? It better be in one piece.” Tony said loud enough for it to go through, and he could hear Barton chuckle on the other end. 

“Nat called me that there was some trouble going down Stark. You out of anyone know that I’m going to go if my Alpha needs me.” Tony snorted, although he knew it was true. Rogers probably didn’t know just how deep his packs loyalties lay for him. Barton’s voice broke through again, following Tony as he left the office and headed up to the top of the tower. “Steve’s with me, as well as Bucky, Natasha, and Y/N. Y/N is in bad shape, Tony. Steve needs your help.” 

Tony stalled his strides, just before he approached the elevators, frowning. The Alpha of the Mountain Pack needed help? That had never happened. “Care to repeat that Barton?” 

“Tony? It’s Steve.” The Alphas voice came over, and Tony couldn’t lie, it sounded strained. “Y/N was shot with a dart, she was in immense pain, claimed she couldn’t feel her wolf, and now she won’t wake up.” Even Tony’s Wolf came striding back to the more conscious part of his mind, the Alpha pinning his ears back in distress at the other Mans admission. “I don’t know anywhere else that might have the capability to help her.” 

Tony punched the button to the elevator, and instead of going up to meet them, he was going to the next level. “Bring her to Bruce’s Lab, Barton and Nat know where it is. I will meet you down there.” Once the doors opened, he stepped on, and the door swiftly shut behind him, descending. 

Barton landed the jet, and opened the hatch, shutting off all the switches in quick maneuvers. Steve collected You, pressing you protectively against his chest as he followed Natasha out of the jet, and she got them into the towers once she hit her security code. Steve’s face melded from worried to calm, collected. He was in another Alphas territory, and any sign of stress from him could invite a challenge from another wolf. His fingers though, they pressed into your skin, his heart thudded in his chest, aching with every beat, constantly seeking you, and now that he could feel you against him, his breathing turned to match yours, the way his heart racing started to slow. Even in this state, you were his calm. Now if only he could bring you back to him. His Wolf was still howling for you, an echo constantly in his mind as he sought your Little Wolf. Even without the bond, he still could sense her when they were human. Now the Silver Wolf couldn’t, and it was breaking the Alpha. 

Once the doors opened, Tony and Bruce stood there, a hospital stretcher ready, but Steve brushed past it, not wanting to let you go. Bruce was about to say something, but Natasha rested her hand against his arm, giving a slight shake of her head. Steve was already close to snapping, its best not to push him. His words changed, tilting his head to the man. “This way, we have a room set up for her.” Pushing the stretcher to the side, they all followed along with Bruce, and came into a comfortable looking room. A large hospital bed was set up, and Steve was careful to set you down on the pristine white cotton sheets. Bruce waited patiently for Steve to settle next to his mate before he approached. Holding his hands up for the Alpha to see him, lowering his head a bit to show his neck. “I promise not to do any harm to your mate Alpha, but you have to trust me, okay. I have to examine her and that will require me touching her.” 

Steve Wolf growled, eyeing the man, and Steve to drew in Bruce’s scent, it was an intermingling of differences that shouldn’t exist in their society. But it did.

Bruce’s condition was well known, why he was loosely tied to Tonys Pack. Tony was one of the only packs that could help Bruce. The Man, he wasn’t an Alpha, gentle to the core, nothing more than a healer and had no drive to really be with a pack. His Wolf though, a Alpha through and through. And not just an Alpha, but a beast unnatural. He had been mutated through an accidental experiment, and it left Bruce almost unable to control him. Tony provided him with space, still in a pack, yet able to work on his own. Steve took all this information into account when he gave a gentle nod, giving him permission to handle you. That nod set Bruce into action, calling forth a nurse, and they worked around Steve, who wouldn’t leave your side, his hands enclosed around yours, keeping contact with yours. 

Come back to me Little One. 

     Bucky gathered the two panther cubs in his arms, the kittens have come around to him during the jet ride. One slept in the crook of one arm, the other perched on the White Wolf’s shoulder, squeaking in excitement at all that was going on. Barton followed him off, and they to enter the Tower, heading straight to Bruce’s lab. Once they exited the elevators, they caught sight of Natasha and Tony, looking through a window into a room, both men could hear Natasha filling Tony in on what had happened that night. Hearing them, Tony looked at gaffed a laugh at the sight. 

“Barnes looks like you got some stowaways.” Tony grinned, and Bucky shifted the sleeping kitten to his other arm. 

“Pierce, had them locked up, figured maybe you could get them back to there families?” Bucky asked hopefully, knowing that the Black Panthers didn’t typically reside in the northern forests of the eastern part of the states. 

“I don’t think that should be a problem,” Tony stated with a nod, his sight catching Pepper coming to join them, and as she approached, he held his arm out to her, and she slid into his side just where she always did, listening as he continued. “King T’Challa had actually contacted me about his missing Panthers a couple of weeks ago. He will be pleased to get back the children taken. Uh… you didn’t happen to see any adult panthers there?” 

Bucky gave a sorrowed shake of his head as the awake kitten perched on his shoulder wailed softly, and Pepper immediately crooned to him, holding out her arms for the kitten to leap into the woman’s arms, hiding against her for comfort. Tony cleared his throat, getting his answer. 

“These Cubs need to be fed, and allowed to shift back.” Pepper said softly as she stroked the distraught kitten fur. “I can take them to go shift, get a proper meal and rest while you all arrange the flight home for them.” she offered and Bucky nodded, handing the sleeping kitten over. She tilted to kiss Tony’s cheek before retreating with them, speaking softly. “Get to go home soon, how does that sound to you two?” A sounding high pitched meow reached the group’s ears. 

Turning to watch Bruce work on You, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see Steve right there, refusing to leave her side. “First off, what the fuck did he shoot Y/N with, and how did that son of a bitch get Panther cubs?” 

“That’s what Bruce is trying to find out now, and the panther cubs… I’m guessing someone smuggled them out of the country. Which means I have a King to contact. Natasha, you know this place, whenever Steve is ready, you can show him the live-in quarters, you to Barnes.” 

“Thanks, Stark” The White Wolf opened his hand to shake it, which was evenly matched before he turned away. Once they were alone, just Bucky, Clint, and Natasha, Bucky spoke up. “I can’t stay, Rumlow still has Cass. Now that Pierce is dead… I have to find her quickly.” 

Barton and Natasha looked at each other, knowing neither one of these Wolves could be left alone. 

“How about I come with you, Barnes? We can pick up where the trackers are now. This is what I’m trained to do.” Barton shrugged. “I also got transportation here for us, and Stark cant bitch about me taking it.” 

“And I will stay with Steve and Y/N, keep you updated on what is going on.” Natasha offered, knowing Barnes was hard-pressed to leave there Alpha. 

“Thank you two…” Barnes said softly, his gaze not breaking from the scene in the next room. 

     Steve was thrumming his thumb over your pulse, which was so calm, it was like you were sleeping. Bruce had drawn blood, had you hooked to monitors that beeped excessively. They were driving Steve and his Wolf nuts trying to make sense of what the numbers all meant. Luckily the scientist did, as well as the nurse assisting him, but neither said if it was good or bad, just an occasional ‘Hmm’ 

<Make them tell us Steve, I can’t handle this any longer. When is our Little One waking up, will she wake up? What is going on.>

Patience Beast. 

<I’m trying Steve> The Silver Wolf responded with a defeated sigh. 

“Alpha?” Bruce started but Steve immediately cut him off. 

“Please, its Steve.” He warily smiled, the adrenaline from the night had finally left him, the usually proud Alpha just look beat and tired now, sitting on the bed. 

“Steve, we’ve checked her over, and from what we can tell, she is okay. In the Human Sense. Her pressures are good, shes breathing, there is still functions of her brain. I have no fear that her body can’t function. From what I can tell… shes simply shut herself down from the trauma.  As far as her Wolf, we can’t find any trace of her in her system. None of the scans picked her up.” It was impossible to miss the whine that came from the Alpha and how his eyes clouded over a moment, but Bruce ignored it, continuing. “I might not be the man for this Steve, but… You said she was injected. I was able to isolate the compound in her bloodwork. Now I can’t be certain, but it seems to be biological. I don’t necessarily know for sure, but there is a plant that might be used for this kind of thing.” 

Steve’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Where is it, and is there a cure Dr.Banner?” The Wolf perked up too, his ears straining to hear Bruce’s next words. 

“The plant only originates in one place, Wakanda. And Wakanda has one of the most brilliant scientific minds I know of. Her name is Shuri, the Kings sister. She would know more about the plants capabilities then I can begin to understand. They use it in a few rituals when appointing the new king. It diminishes there powers, sedates there beasts almost into a slumbering state so that they can prove that the person can lead their people as much as the animal.” Bruce witnessed Steve turning back to look at You, his eyes willing you to wake up, but there was no movement from you. “Would to much kill the animal you think Doctor?” 

“I really can’t say Steve, I simply don’t know enough about it. It’s not something we have here, and the Wakanda people guard their crops fiercely. I wouldn’t even begin to guess how someone would have gotten there hands on such a plant. Now with how strong Wakandas borders are.” 

“I have to talk to Tony about this, but I can’t leave her.” Steve drifted off, even though you were safe, he just couldn’t pry himself from you. Natasha knocked on the door and opened it gently. 

“Let me sit with her, I will stay till you can return Steve.” She offered and the even though the Wolf protested, Steve pressed your palm to his mouth, giving a soft affectionate nip before easing your hand back to the mattress. “Thank you, Natasha.” 

The Red Head nodded, switching spots. “Shes my packmate to. Bucky is out there, Starks floor is one up, that’s where he will be.” 

With a nod, Steve took one last look at you, peaceful and small looking in the oversized bed, quick to exit the door. Wait any longer and his resolve would fold. 

Tony was once more at his desk, and the phone was ringing when a message came through from Bruce, giving him a bit of an update. Tony’s brows arched curiously at this new bit of info, that you were possibly injected with a organic matter made for this particular situation. Wonder how many other people were subjected to the same fate. A click drew him back, an accented voice speaking on the other end. “Stark, its good to hear from you.” 

“Likewise T’Challa. I might have some good news for you. Two cubs were found by a neighboring pack and brought them to me. They are young, I’m hoping they are your missing children.” Tony could hear the sharp muffle of the phone being covered and the king’s voice talking to someone before he came back. “Yes, two were taken along with there mother. No sign of the female?” 

“No… I’m sorry, Pierce might not have taken her if he bought the cubs off a smuggler, or might have already sold her off to another.” Tony didn’t want to share the wall of skins, it was just so horrific to think about. 

“Thank You, the two cubs was more then we had hoped to be able to bring home, I will notify my trackers looking through the states of this news, send them to you if you could possibly direct them to where they were found. Maybe they can pick up a trail.” 

“Absolutely. I will send the cubs back to you, just as soon as they are looked over and given a bit of proper rest. My Mate is tending to them now, and they seem to be in fairly good health. I also have something else to discuss with you King.” 

“What is it?” The Panther said softly, his tone said he was half expecting more bad news. 

“The pack that found them, the Alphas Mate was darted, and her Wolf, it’s gone. Dr.Banner isolated an organic compound in her blood that might be the cause. But this is out of his expertise. If the Alpha could bring her over with the cubs, could Shuri try to bring her back? Shes slipped into something like a coma and shows no signs of waking up, although she appears to be healthy.”

T’Challa was silent a moment before there was a rumbling answer, and Tony suspected it was distress about the Alphas Mate, it had unsettled him the same way thinking about what if that had happened to Pepper. “Of course, send the Alpha Wolf and his Mate along, we will do all we can to help them.” 

“Thank you King. I will be contacting you soon.” 

As he hung up, Steve and Bucky came into the office, and Tony swept a hand to the chairs in front of his desk, waiting till the men settled. “Before you say anything, Steve, it’s already arranged. You will be taking Y/N to Wakanda for Shuri to help her. Now, I heard what Natasha said, but you want to tell me officially. The Council will want to know.” 

Steve bared his teeth in agitation but started in on all that had happened. “I sent Bucky and Natasha to check out this pack as you know. They were immediately taken.” Bucky then took over, telling all about how he was collared, how the collar impacted his beast in chains. “It wasn’t anything like the magic of Wanda, but blood magic. Way to much power in it. And then I was to be sold off to Hydra.” Tony stayed silent listening. “Once we managed to escape, we contacted our Alpha.” 

“And that was it. I had enough to challenge Pierce. We met him on his turf, called him out. He has a whole underground facility my wolves are sorting through now with Sam in charge. After Y/N was shot, we left to get her here as soon as possible. I’m indebted to you.” Steve said solemnly, and Tony waved it away. 

“Don’t, if it was the other way around, I know you would do anything you could for Pepper, Rogers. Besides, I like Y/N, shes good. She would have been a wolf I would have welcomed to my pack should she had come to my borders easily. I will have a cleanup crew go to help Sam, so please let him know beforehand.” 

Steve nodded, but now he was anxious to return to You, not that he didn’t trust Natasha, but this wasn’t home. He wasn’t in control here, and he didn’t want to risk leaving you in an unfamiliar place. 

“I think we’re settled here, Peppers taking care of the Kits now. I will have it all set up to fly you to Wakanda in the morning Steve.” The Alphas all rose, shaking hands and with that all was said and done. 

On the way out, Bucky paused Steve. “Brother, I wish I could go with you. But there’s still Rumlow. I have to find Cassandra. She’s only in this mess cause we’ve been, well I don’t know really what we’ve been doing. But my association has gotten her captured.” 

Steve cursed inwardly, the Wolf guiltily laying back his ears. How could they forget Bucky’s own situation. “Of course, please gather any of the pack you need for tracking them.” 

Both men stepped once more on the elevator. “Barton is coming with me, and I’m going to ask the twins. Pietro is skilled like Barton is, better then I could ever be, and Wanda is a powerful healer already. I don’t know what condition I will find Cassandra. Natasha, she will be going with you to Wakanda.” Bucky swallowed deeply, and Steve clasped his shoulder. 

“What Brock did, it isn’t your fault Buck.” 

“Isn’t it though? If I never messed around with her, she wouldn’t be taken from her home, and god knows what he’s done to her. I should have known better, she’s a human, and I’m just an animal. I never had any intention of taking her as my mate, I should have just left after that first night.” Bucky started to confess, and Steve couldn’t help the twinge in his chest at Bucky’s pain. He knew the White Wolf had long ago decided that he wouldn’t take a mate, but the lone wolf still had a desire for a connection, which he had apparently found in this woman. His hand gave Buckys shoulder another squeeze before letting it slide away. 

“You will find her and return her home, Buck. As soon as I come back from Wakanda, I will join you. You are not alone in this.” 

Bucky turned haunted eyes to his Alpha, his brother, and gave a nod. “Till the end of the line.” 

“Till the end of the line” Steve repeated before the door opened. 

Steve relieved Natasha and he stretched out next to your unconscious form, and half slept till morning when they were collected and taken to the airport, a more comfortable ride set up for the five of you. The Panthers had shifted back at Peppers urging, and now joining You, Steve and Natasha were two children. A girl looking to be eight or nine, and a boy looking to be much younger, maybe five if Steve had to guess. Both the kids bid farewell to Bucky, hanging off his neck as they hugged him and he embraced them both and gave the young boy a ruffle of hair. “Yall come back to visit me, okay? But like next time we will have some fun. No locks or cages, that I promise.” Natasha nudged Steve with a grin and whispered to him. “He’s a natural.” 

Steve had to chuckle watching him. “Yes, he really is. He always had been.” he said softly before Bucky approached them, the man looking between his Alpha and Natasha. “Well, you crazy kids don’t get into any tussles with the Panthers. Means no growling at them, Steve.” He gave a mock warning leaving the Alpha growling at Bucky and Natasha grinning as she stepped forward and hugged Bucky. “Stay safe Buck, I’m not gonna be there to keep you out of trouble.” 

Bucky returned the hug with a laugh, kissing her temple. “Well that’s just not exciting then is it.” Turning to Steve the two men shared a hug too, slapping each other on the back. “Bring Y/N home man, we all just got her, not ready to lose her yet.” 

“That’s the goal, keep us updated Buck, and like Natasha said, stay safe.” The two men separated and together Natasha and Steve went onto the plane, and the door shut. Bucky turned the opposite way, joined with Barton, the two wolves preparing for the hunt. 

The flight was a long one and almost immediately Steve retreated with you, you were laid out, head on his lap as his fingers carded through your hair, his head tilted back with closed eyes, his Wolf was in a semi-relaxed state, only once in a while did the beast raise himself up to pace, using Steves senses to check on you, keep an eye on what was going on around him. Steve felt the Wolf stir, giving a soft growl to alert the man that someone was approaching him when his eyes sprang open to the boy standing in front of him with wide eyes. Steve straightened up a bit and softened his features to smile. “Hello, my name is Steve, what’s yours?” He removed his hand from your hair and held it out to the kid, offering him a peaceful shake. The kid took his hand and turned it, tracing the line of his palm as if studying it before letting go, and he spoke in his native language, which Steve simply shook his head and shrugged not understanding. The girl soon came, looking for her companion. “He said his name is Zane, sorry, my brother can not speak English yet, he was just starting to learn when we were abducted, but he does understand it. My name is Audre.” 

“I’m sorry that happened to you two, If I had known, I would have been there sooner for you,” Steve said sincerely, the two children gave a smile and shook their heads, holding no ill will towards the Alpha. “Were glad you came when you did. I had been trying to break the lock, but had no luck. We were being sold soon to some of that man’s friends.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that man any longer. I promise he won’t be coming for anyone, ever again.” Steve’s hand went back to your hair, brushing through it. Zane stepped in closer and his hand went to touch your face, near your temple and tracing over your forehead and down the bridge of your nose. Speaking again, his sister was quick to translate. “He asked why is she sleeping the deep sleep?” 

The Wolf paused, twisting his ears. 

<Maybe they would know how to bring her back Steve.>

Steve looked down at you, his own hand cupping the side of your face, and letting his fingers brush along your cheeks. “She was hurt, by the man that kept you two caged. She is my mate, and I miss her very much. I’m hoping your King and his sister can bring her back to me.” 

The little boys eyes shined as he turned to his sister, speaking hurriedly. His sister listened and then turned back to Steve. 

“He says she feels you, and misses you very much Alpha. That she can hear you but is lost while searching for her Little Wolf. She went deep inside, and is looking for her way back to you. But she can feel you calling her, your touches. She was scared but knows you are keeping her safe. And… “ She turned back to her brother and listened again, nodding as she repeated it. “That it felt good to be held last night, she was worried you would leave her alone.” 

“No, never would I leave her alone.” Steve’s other hand was heavy on your hip, keeping a hold on you and the kids smiled, the little boy reaching out to pat Steve’s chest and say something else. 

“Zane says your a good Alpha, and that she is lucky to have you. She will return home, and you two will be okay once more.” Audre hugged her brother around his shoulders and looked down at him. “Come brother, The Alpha is tired and needs to rest before we get back home, let him be with his mate.” Leading him away, Steve pondered what they had told him, leaning his forehead down to press against yours, breathing you in deeply. Although your scent wasn’t entirely the same, he was still swept up on the honeysuckle softness that was all yours. “I promise I’m not going anywhere Little One.” Still, nothing, although he was now convinced you heard him. 

A short time later Natasha came to find him, sitting down next to the Alpha. This time her familiar scent washed over him, and he didn’t bother to open his eyes to his packmate, but listened closely. 

“Were about to land. T’Challa and the King’s Warriors are meeting us to welcome us. They will escort us to Shuri’s quarters and start treating Y/N right away.” 

Steve sighed quietly and opened his eyes to smile at Natasha. “Good. Zane and Audre came to see me a bit ago. Told me that she could still hear me, feel me.” 

Natasha could feel and see the pain her Alpha was in, and she reached over to drape her arm over his shoulders, sliding in closer to the two of them. “Then you should believe them, I think she knows your with her Steve, you two are connected in far more ways then just the mating bite could provide. Maybe you two are those soul mates actually destined to belong together, and not just making it work.” 

Steve still stared down at you and nodded. “Perhaps your right.” Somewhere deep inside his mind, the Wolf howled again, calling for you to return to him. And Steve could have sworn you stirred a bit under his touch. 

Natasha was correct. When they came off the plane, there was a full escort accompanying the king. The kids squealed as they ran off the plane, a man rushing forward to gather the two kids into his arms, kissing the two all over there faces with what had to be the happiest tears streaking down his face. All three spoke with such rapidity, that Steve couldn’t even fathom what was being said, but he pressed his mouth to your ear, whispering. “That is the happiest family reunion I’ve ever seen.” His blue eyes squinted in the bright sun, and soon caught sight of T’Challa approaching him and Natasha, the man had a easy way about him, calm. His language was that of a lazy cat, strolling as if all belonged to him. He clasped Steves shoulders and the two men bowed there heads to each other out of respect and T’Challa did a similar motion to Natasha before looking at you in Steve’s arms. 

“Let us get her quick to Shuri, eh? The sooner we can return your queen to you, the sooner we can celebrate her and the cubs return to the Clans.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave an order, and his warriors brought forth a carrier to bring them all back. Steve and Natasha stepped up, and their eyes traveled the ranks, surprised it was nothing but female warriors. 

“Ah, the Womans Clan is the fiercest amongst us. You ladies will fight harder than any male, correct?” T’Challa smiled at Natasha, who grinned in agreement. “Hear that Steve looks like I’m more badass then you.” 

The Alpha snorted and shook his head. “Hell if I would ever deny that. You could kick my ass any day if you wanted to.” 

T’Challa laughed deeply and Natasha gave a fist pump in victory, Steve still holding you close, praying you knew he meant every word. For him you were far stronger then he could ever be.

Once they arrived at the Kings home in the center of Wakanda, it was all a blur for Steve and Natasha. A young woman immediately took over and T’Challa stepped out of her way. She bent over Steve who retrained the warning growls from his beast as she pried your eyes open, and slid her hands down to your chest, waiting to feel your rhythm. “Shes matching your’s Alpha, good. She’s not to far gone. Get her on the table, quick now.” Steve followed behind the brisk walking Shuri, and once he set her down, she pressed against Steve’s chest to back him up. “I need room to work Alpha.” 

“Shuri… you need to explain to him what your doing to his mate.” T’Challa followed along behind, and Steve stepped back, but wasn’t too far. “Mates have a hard time separating. Even ones that haven’t shared the entire bond yet.” The King was far more aware of his situation then Steve had thought he would be. 

<Stark, I’m sure he told T’Challa everything with you and Y/N.> The wolf rumbled softly

I think your right, but that’s a good thing. The more they know the better to help Y/N. 

That settled the Wolf back down, sure to keep an eye on You. Shuri started attaching wires to your forehead, temples, then tugged your shirt up enough to attach the same wires to your chest and stomach. Grabbing a needle, she put a tourniquet to your arm and tapped at the vein. “I’m monitoring brain waves. Our humans and animals are two different waves, although we are the same. Her Wolf… if its the Heart Herb, it’s not gone Alpha. It’s in hibernation.” She plunged the needle and drew out some blood, filling a tube, before pulling it away and giving a vigorous shake, tossing it to an assistant. “Check for the Heart Herb attachment to her red cells and let me know.” Steves nose wrinkled at the scent of your blood, stirring unease in him, be he pushed it down, Shuri was just as quick in her movements to get you bandaged. 

Looking at Steve, the young woman broke out in a grin. “So ease up Alpha, if that’s the case, I can bring the Wolf back and she be good as new.” 

“If that’s what it is, can she overdose on it? Because Pierce gave her a whole vial of it at once.” Steve asked, and Suri rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. Brother, I told you that bastard took more than our Panthers.” 

“And I told you back then I agreed Sister.” T’Challa retorted as he came up next to Steve. “She could overdose, but it would have to be more than a vial. Right now, IF this is what it is, its simply a deep hibernation. Shuri has the capabilities to bring her back.” 

“We just got to get her to wake up her human side first.” Suri watched the monitors and rocked back and forth on her heels. It was like a light had gone off over her head, the way her eyes widened and she was quick to rush over to a cabinet, grabbing a vial and sticking a needle in it, filling it. 

“And I got just the way to get her to wake up. Now Alpha, this won’t be immediate, but whew when it happens, be ready.” She lifted your arm and gave you an injection, and Steve arched his brows with concern. 

“Be ready? For what?” 

Suri just giggled and disposed of the needle, smirking at him. “You will see.” 

Steve looked at T’Challa who had a similar grin on his face. “Come, let me show you your rooms, and have Natasha brought to hers.” Some assistants started to unhook you and set you on a stretcher that was powered to float on its own, following the men out of the room. They joined back up with Natasha, and everyone got settled in their rooms for the night. You were laid out, and Steve once more stretched out next to you, sighing deeply as he just talked until sleep finally overtook him. Rolling in his sleep, his arm slung over your hip, his hand pressed against your stomach, keeping you in close to him. 

You could feel your mind stirring, heated waves rolling through you. But you were still unable to drag your consciousness forward. You couldn’t find your Little Wolf and was barely aware of Steve beside you. You heard his deep baritone, and a few words, a brush of his touch, but barely. No matter how much you willed yourself to return to him, it just felt like circles. But now, now there was a heat surrounding you, and you were firmly aware of his heavy hand clasped against your stomach, and the feeling of a broad muscled chest against your back, as well as a heavy erection pressing against your backside, a hairy calf pressed between your thighs. Now, if only you could open your eyes, you drew in deep inhales of his scent, and that comforted you, your senses swirling with pines and masculinity, you tried following that, the heat just kept building and you groaned at the familiar ache it caused. You would have sworn it was like going into heat again, but how could you without the Wolf to trigger it? 

A bright light started to permeate your senses and you could feel hot breaths against the back of your neck, Steve had his face tucked into your neck, still, sound asleep, and a rumble sounded through him. It was enough to call you forward and your eyes sprang open, searching wildly for him. He was behind you, you could feel him and you twisted in his arms, grasping his lips to yours, he shuddered awake to you kissing him, his arm sweeping around you as you pressed into him, pressing him back to the mattress, your tongue swirling with his, clashing of teeth. You needed him, more then ever before you thought and you crawled up enough to straddle him, panting against his mouth, your eyes closed as you rocked your hips against him, a pleading sound in your voice. 

“I need you Alpha, Steve. Now, Please. I need you inside of me.”

<So this is what they meant> The Wolf shuddered awakening with a ferocity for his mate and Steve’s hands fell to your hips, rocking you harder against him till he lifted you to raise on your knees, and you reached for his manhood, pressing it against your center. Hands tightening, he brought you down to sheath himself in your heat, and your head tipped back with a soft cry, bracing your hands against his chest. You were dripping hot and ached so badly for him, that the relief of feeling your Alpha was bliss for you, thrusting yourself to spear him inside of you, it was a quick fury for you two. Steve’s hips slamming upwards to meet your movements holding you tightly at the waist till he released his hold to cup your breasts, teasing the nipples. You to clasp your hands over his, holding him there, panting at the sensations he brought out in you. 

“Fuck I thought I would never find you, Steve.” You rushed out while moaning, flexing yourself around him. 

“You were so far away, Little One, I kept calling to you.” He rumbled deep in his chest, and loosened his hands, flipping you two so he could give deeper more dominating strokes and you wrapped your legs around his hips, staring up at him. 

“I heard you Alpha, I tried, so hard.” You hissed and tipped your head back, Steve immediately started placing soft non claiming bites to your neck, sucking marks on it as you arched your chest to rub against his, rubbing your scent against him. Nails dug into his back, marking him in your own way as they held onto the rolling flexing muscles, speeding the rocking of your hips as you both sought to make the other cum. 

“I know you did, I know you wouldn’t leave me willingly.” Steves bites fell back to your lips, dominating your mouth with his, and you held on, feeling him start to swell in you and your cunt flexed, tightened around his cock when he angled himself just right, crying into the kiss, and tears streaming down your face at the intensity of needing to cum, flood him with yourself. He was everywhere, and you scrambled to keep yourself close even though he pounded you into the mattress, cumming just then around him. When you drifted this time it wasn’t into nothingness, but the immense pleasure that had you gasping against his neck, and he slowed down his thrusts, slow and deep while you loosened your hold, sinking back into the pillows, rocking with him, as you nodded. 

“Never Steve, I know I belong to you. I’m all yours Alpha, all yours.” softly whispering out.

Steves kiss this time was far gentler but no less as before neediness. Slow strokes of the tongue matched the roll of his hips, nudging himself to claim you full, welding you two together. There couldn’t be another, not one you wanted to hold you still underneath him, one to capture your mind, and love you in the way he does. Not just a physical need, but mental too. His forehead dropped to yours, rolling through with another connecting thrust and you both inhaled each other, the hot heavy scent of your bodies pressing together, the blood, sweat, and tears shared. For you to felt his own hot tears drop and mingle with yours rolling down your face, a quick lap of his tongue against your cheek wiped them away, as you two rocked together. 

“And your mine, Little One, you will never be alone.” He cupped your face and kissed you deeply, groaning as you came again, and his seed painted your channel, his pumps stilling as he knotted you, the two of you drifting into a bliss-filled state, tangled around one another, unwilling to separate for some time. Hushed sighs and shared nipping kisses soon enabled you both to drift off to sleep again. 

It wasn’t till some time later you woke again and were sprawled against Steve’s chest. Tilting your head, a glass of water caught your sight, and you shifted off him to reach for it, moving to sit on the edge of the bed while you gulped the glass down, parched as you had never been before. Setting the glass down, you looked around the room. And it occurred to you this was nothing like his cabin home. This was a wide-open space, and the air was not crisp and sharp woods and lake. This was almost… tropical. Musty vegetation and promise of heated days filled your senses, that’s when the breeze blew your face and you turned to an opening to a balcony, no doors or windows covering it. Grabbing the sheet, to keep the front of you covered, you wandered out to the deck to gasp softly, just below was a jungle, stretching out far, and beyond that what looked like a savannah, littered with what looked like Zebras and Gazelle, spotting an elephant, rhinos. Loud squawking and bright colors flashed below in all that greenery and a flock of macaws went screaming past, scattering over towards a statue that seemed carved right out of the cliff face, a giant prowling cat, his paw up to strike out at his enemies. 

“Were certainly not home anymore.” 

Steve stirred when he didn’t feel you next to him and looked around till he saw you, the sheet clutched around you, the wind making it ripple just a bit. Moving to roll out of bed, and to a stand, he approached from behind, sliding his hands along your bare hips under the sheet, and kissed your bare shoulder, growling softly as he took in the view you were currently gasping at. 

“Welcome to Wakanda Little One.”   

#steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers werewolf #the pack #alpha Steve #alpha Steve rogers #mcu au #marvel #sweater writes #amber writes #bucky Barnes #tony stark #shuri #t'challa #wakanda #alpha Steve rogers x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #alpha Steve x y/n

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 4]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“there’ll be a next time...right?“

Corpse and Cora have found a nice secluded picnic table outside the restaurant, out in the sun rays’ path enough for the warmth of the day to be caressing their skin while simultaneously being a safe distance away from the other people enjoying their lunch. Their meal has just arrived, bringing a large grin to Cora’s face.

“So?” She asks as she chews the bite she took without waiting even thirty seconds. Her feet are on the bench, legs crossed, elbows rested on her knees as she chomps down, happily perched in front of him.

Corpse is enraptured by her. He’s staring a little, desperately trying to keep it subtle, hands still holding the small bag of food as he peers at her, a hood over his dark curls. Even in this quiet little part of town, he still doesn’t feel safe showing his whole face - no mask, no eyepatch, no privacy and sense of security. But as his eyes take in his lunch partner, her calm aura and leisure attitude, he can’t help but admit that his heart quickens a little. The girl moves with the grace of someone not afraid to kick ass and he is simply awestruck by her beauty and outward powerful aura. He’s never before been so captivated by a person - someone so different and so similar to him simultaneously.

Swallowing nervously, he reminds himself that she has taken on the role of his checkpoint, something like a friend, a hand to hold if he starts feeling anxious. Even if it’s just for today, he appreciates it wholeheartedly. It’s more than he’s ever been offered by others. That type of comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Surprising himself when his hand reaches out to touch her free one, he’s surprised yet again when he finds the touch so familiar and welcoming, so natural.  Despite it being just a brief movement, his knuckles softly brushing against her wrist before withdrawing and returning his focus to his meal, it is so meaningful and soothing, he’s afraid he might get used to it. Addicted to it. 

Half expecting a comment or a look, he is taken aback when she doesn’t give any sort of reaction. No movement, no expression change, just curiously watching him while she eats, waiting for his response to her previous dubious question.

 “So?” He rumbles softly, fishing out his lunch from the confines of the little paper bag. He isn’t sure what type of answer he should be expecting but he’s sure he won’t be disappointed regardless.

“Tell me about yourself! You’re not all rumbles, fear and BONES, right? You’ve gotta have a personality under that black hoodie.” She says enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering as though she’ll dig the answers out of him with her gaze alone. He’s not sure whether he’d prefer that or not. He doesn’t like talking about himself but he has an even stronger distaste for the idea of her seeing some information he’d rather keep hidden. Good thing she doesn’t seem to be capable of telepathy, but even that wouldn’t be too odd for her.

His cheeks flush faintly and he looks down for a moment to take the first bite of his food, buying himself some time to think and formulate a proper sentence. He racks his brain, looking for what would be the most vague yet satisfactory answer. 

What am I? I mean, all she stated is true, I definitely am all that...but I have a hard time coming up with what else I am? What else makes me me?  Youtube? Anxiety? Suicidal ideations hidden underneath liquor?

“I um...dropped out of school at, like, thirteen.” He finally speaks, mumbling around the small bite he worked on swallowing. 

Cora’s eyes widen and her brows shoot up. Now he is nervous, his anxiety slowly starting to creep in as he’s worrying if he has said something wrong. Or something that she could be disgusted by. 

Who would want to talk to some grown ass man who couldn’t even make it to highschool? How fucking sad is that? She has all right to judge me for it. 

However, unlike everybody else in his life who’s given him a frown of pity while internally thinking of how absolutely fucked up he had to be to drop out so young, Cora spared him from the pitiful glance he has grown to hate so much. Instead, he sees something alike amazement on her face as she sips her drink before saying:

“Damn dude, that’s intense. I mean, it sucks cause I can’t imagine you had a normal childhood if you’re bailing from school that young but, nowadays, who among us actually had a real childhood? Very few, I’d say.” She grins, putting down the soda can, her eyes leaving his for only the briefest of moments instead of the familiar awkward eye-contact avoidance he’d face when this topic would be nudged during a conversation. Still, the relief and skepticism in Corpse can never end their war so easily - there’s still that shred of doubt that she’s just good at hiding her pity or judgement. Nevertheless, she continues, “You’re doing well for yourself, you’re in an ok place right now, right? Isn’t that what matters?.” She concludes, touching his fingers as a form of yet another subtle reassurance. 

He looks down and finds himself ever so carefully curling one of his fingers around hers, just briefly before he draws back fearfully. “Yeah...guess having an apartment in a shitty part of town, and a car that seems to attract criminals could be considered ‘doing okay’.” He smiles faintly under his hood and she laughs, that bubbly little noise that he is slowly realizing he wants to hear more of. 

“You got a car, that’s more than I have.” Cora pokes her tongue out with a little growl before leaning down to take another bite of her lunch. “So, you like music and aren’t a narc. What else you got up your sleeve?”

Corpse smiles a bit and takes a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I like video games too.” 

That seems innocent enough, right? Everyone likes video games...or people tend to be okay with them, at least. Video games are fun.

Another bright, sun-like smile. “Yeah? Well in that case I’ll have to kick your ass in Mario Kart some time.” She threatens playfully. 

So she might want to hang out, he thinks to himself, the thought causing his heart to do a little flip and he smiles an almost shy and timid smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

“What do you do for work?”

That question catches him off-guard, causing his eyes to widen a bit. He doesn’t know if it would be better to lie or just tell the truth. He narrates stories on the internet and makes and puts out music people have constantly been telling him wouldn’t be enjoyed. He doesn’t see how that would leave a bad taste in her mouth exactly but because of his inability to stop himself from overthinking he doesn’t want to run the risk of repulsing her. Then again, he doesn’t want to lie either, he’s been so honest with her thus far, why would he derail now and because of such a simple question. That’s why he chooses to answer truthfully but keep his answer relatively vague: “I do online work and make music I haven’t released yet. I honestly dunno if I ever will.” That last part felt like a harsh hit of reality coming on too suddenly, forcing him to look away from her to gather his composure and put it back together.

“I bet it’s good. You’ll have to let me hear it when you get something done. I’ve got a clearly refined taste in music, but I bet you already figured that out.” She exaggerates a wink, reaching over to wiggle the straw in her drink. 

Feeling a bit less tense now, he clears his throat and picks up the conversation once again. “What about you? You keep asking me all these questions, but all I know about you is that you’re a klepto with no car.” 

That signature bright and bubbly laughter leaves Cora’s chest, sending Corpse a millisecond away from swooning over her completely. “I’m actually a starving artist. I’m a pet photographer and I'm going back to school for advertising graphic design. When I’m not off goofing around with people getting their dogs birthday documented, I’m working at ye good ol’ Starbucks, serving all the...” Her voice lifts to a higher pitch and is now coming more from the back of her throat as she takes on the most preppy tone she could muster, “Beckys their venti mocha caramel frappuccino with TWO extra pumps of caramel, but with SOY because they’re all on a diet. Funny how that works, no? All those women with the exact same order and exact same attributes - I almost laugh whenever one of them walks in. You can smell them from a block away.” 

Corpse chokes out a laugh as he covers his mouth, hiding his half chewed bite from view. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Then again,  he can’t help but acknowledge the warmth that has spread across his cheeks at how she giggles along with him. “And to be fair,” Cora quickly interrupts herself, “I am not a klepto, I just really liked the belt I found and thought forty five dollars was a rip off.” She smirks, finding herself absentmindedly looping her pinky with his. Corpse doesn’t look down, doesn’t comment, doesn’t want her to know he noticed, because maybe she’d put an end to their so small yet so meaningful contact. Instead, he smiles a little and swallows the last bite of his lunch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he briefly entertains the idea that he maybe wasn’t the only one awestruck. 

Anyhow, that thought gets pushed down real quick when he considers how absolutely out of his league she is, and how...well, how he’s in absolutely no league whatsoever. The world has done plenty to prove that to him real fast. Corpse sees himself as a nobody; he believes he doesn’t matter and everybody likes to remind him of it. But, as Cora’s pinky curls a little and one of her thumbs brushes against the arch of his wrist, all that bitter venom in his cold soul starts to slowly ease up, loosening its typically firm hold of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would matter to someone. Someday.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpse fanfic #corpse fic #corpse fandom #corpse fanfiction #corpse fluff #corpse imagines #corpse imagine #corpse x original character #corpse x oc #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband fanfic #fic #fan #fanfic #fluff #fanfiction #fandom #original female character #oc #original character #romance #love

[doodlingstuff]

What I love the most about Andreil’s relation is that it goes way beyond gender or physical attraction, to leave only the purest kind of partnership that can ever exist.

The very foundation of their love is trust. A trust indeed hard to build and mostly forced at the beginning, but as they both grow and start relying into each other, that trust begins to turn into something more powerful called understanding.

It’s not only shared secrets and giving truths in credit to receive more truths. Is knowing the layers of each other’s pain and fears. It’s knowing the darkest face of their worst and come out from it because the other one can’t get away on their own, and to let someone in during that, requires more courage than anything else, because inside of a soul, there are no hiding places and is too easy to get hurt.

They both had built powerful barriers around them to avoid anyone peeking into their secrets. Whether it was by force of beatings or through the sting of a blade on their wrists, physical pain was always easier to confront and heal that emotional pain will ever be, because a gash can be covered and a bruise will fade, but losing a person wasn’t something either of them could survive again, and yet, they both find the courage in between their troubles to let their guards down and allow another broken soul to bring light in and mend each other.

If not fully, enough to stay and rely and keep going. Enough to live.

It was hard for both to acknowledge fully and accept what was going on. Of course it was, because after a heart is shattered and sort of healing or forgotten, the last thing anyone wants is for it to be broken again for no reason.

When someone manages to get rid of their emotions and attachments as they both did, it takes time and patience and that deep honest trust mixed with understanding to finally let the guard down and realize that maybe, just maybe, that time, things can go right.

And even then, when the scars are so deep, memories keep hurting so despite how long they had been there. So there is always a new fear building around, bracing for the consequences of the possible fallout, because after illusions are smashed one time, two times, countless of times, it becomes normal to assume that everyone is going to step over your feeling one way or another, and neither of them could afford that, but they took the chance anyway. Even if their immediate prediction was that it would leave another scar, another painful memory to bear.

And in a way, even though they stay together, what they went through did left scars and memories that for their first time in their lives, are there to remind them what is worth fighting for.

With so much tying them together, there’s no wonder why labels are too small for them, there’s no room to doubt why they won’t say “I love you”. Why they will always ask for consent first.

Because they know if they lose this, they won’t be able to get up again once more after giving all of the little they had left to offer.

Now, if more people could understand such a pure relationship like that, I’m sure there would be no more judgement for same gender relations. There would be no more double looks at the people who are content with themselves or happy to be alone until the right one arrives. There would be no more persons feeling miserable after giving something they weren’t really willing to give. There would be no doubts and no need to seek comfort in another, because truth would be the only language spoken and it would be respected.

As they did, everything should start (and end) with a “yes or no” that held no consequences regarding the answer.

There should be as much happiness in a “yes” as enough courage to take a “no” for what it is and don’t push it as much as it may hurt, because forcing an answers hurts both in the long run.

There should be enough honesty to give a truthful answer always.

There should be more couples like that.

The question is, in a world where we can’t trust the other, where our insecurities are so wide, where opinions clash constantly and tolerance slips like water through the fingers, where we hide under the anonymity of internet, are we ready to shed our layers until only the darkness remains to let someone else’s light in?

Are we ready to show trust and build understanding?

Are we ready to take and give a “no” with confidence?

I think that when we all have all of this clear for real, then, and just then, we will be finally able to give and deserve that beautiful “always yes” that one way or another, we all want and need from something, sometime, someplace, someone who is not a pipe dream.

#midnight thoughts #i should go to sleep #but i cant stop thinking about them #andreil #andrew x neil #andrew minyard #neil josten #trust #love #relationship #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #tfc #trk #tkm #true love #my writing #wishful thinking #im still crying #i miss his smile #aftg #aftg fandom

[kim-woonhak]

Hi, I needed advice. I just wanted to know if this is normal. My mom constantly criticizes things like, the way I stand, the way I eat, the way I talk, the way I express emotions, the way I sit, if I’m using too many hand gestures or not.

Either I feel like she’s embarrassed of me. But I just feel all of this stripped away my personality because I’m so self conscious that the comments she makes to me, and if others think the same.

How can I deal with this? And is this normal? Thank you for the help <3

😟 That is definitely not normal anon! I'm really sorry that she treats you like that. 😟

[ Zeroeth of all, I'm literally just a random 23 year old on the internet who draws kpop boys??? so everything I'm writing here is OPINION that you should always read with a grain of salt. ]

First of all, you are definitely not doing anything wrong, so you don't deserve to be criticized and to feel like you have to hide your personality from her. Each of us live (eat, stand, sit, walk) and express ourselves (emotionally, through gestures, how we talk, our interests, what we wear) differently and nobody should dictate those things for you, not even your mother.

Secondly, I don't know why she does this, but I think for her to do so is very selfish because that means she thinks you should act and live how she wants. But just because she is your mother doesn't mean she gets to decide how you live your life. A criticism is just an opinion pointed aggressively at someone, and, as with any opinion, we the criticized should still get to decide to accept or reject it.

Thirdly, nobody deserves constant criticism about anything! Even if you make a TON of mistakes and mess up things and fail at everything, you STILL don't deserve to be constantly reminded and criticized for it, ESPECIALLY by your parents. When we're criticized once, we acknowledge the other person's criticism and can decide to accept it or not. The criticizer (friends, family, bosses, co-workers, teachers, parents) should in turn respect our decision in good faith. To me, parents who respect their children's opinions demonstrate the highest level of maturity and adult-ness (only boomers call this "spoiling" 🙄). However, when we're repeatedly criticized, the criticizer isn't actually respecting our own opinion. I think there is sadly not enough respect towards you from you mom, which, no matter how old you are, you still deserve. Being constantly criticized then either wears us down emotionally or causes us to become extremely defensive and unwilling to listen. Both results suck, and I personally still exhibit a little bit of the latter which I am.... working on. 😤😰

If you are able to, I would try talking to your mom about this and how you feel. Ideally, don't bring it up right after something happens, but try to talk about it when things are "peaceful." If you have family like siblings or dad/other guardian that you feel comfortable confiding with, you should talk to them as well! They might be able to help you approach your mom about this problem.

I don't know what to say to make you feel less self-conscious about your mom's criticisms because the fact that you care what she thinks about you means that you do respect and care about her. Which you should, she's your mom! But only as much as is healthy for you. 🤕 Please remember that when you are criticized, you aren't actually at fault! These criticisms aren't a reflection of your "problems." I don't mean to offend, but I think they're actually a reflection of flaws within your mother. After all, she is also just a human being with an entire life of complicated experiences that have shaped her worldview and personality into who she is today. If you're her eldest or first child, then this is literally her first time being a parent so things that she thinks is "best" isn't actually doing you much good. If you're a middle or younger child, then it's possible she's unfairly comparing you to your siblings. As her child, it's very hard to see her objectively like this, but the more you try, the more you can distance yourself emotionally from her criticism without feeling the need to retaliate or feeling belittled by her. If she really loves you, you two will be able to find away to eventually talk about it and help her change, but even that takes time. In the mean time, the best advice I can give you is try to stay calm when you do feel upset by her words (easier said than done, i know :\). I'm sure this past year has probably been very exhausting from staying home so much (I assume you currently live with her), so please try to take a walk everyday to get some fresh air and to get out of the house, or go to a library or cafe for a few hours if you can. If you are planning on going to college, you can consider attending a school that is further away from home.

Finally, rest assured that your personality will never disappear! It can and will change throughout your life, and sometimes you may not externally express your personality as much as you did before, but it will never go away. Our personalities are a part of us, and it's what makes us weird and interesting and different. But I think it's also what makes us similar to everyone else and relate to so many other people. While you may be self-conscious of it, I also think the way you talk and use hand gestures is wonderful and endearing 💗 because they're how you express your emotions and your interests. I think the way you stand and sit and eat are perfectly fine too. I mean, as long as the food gets to your stomach, it's all the same right? 🤗😂

If you actually read it this far anon, thank you. I think you're really sweet, and my heart hurts for you. I hope I can make your day just a little bit better with this (almost 1k words) wall of text. 😂 And ofc I fucking love u 💕💕😤🥰🤩💖

#ask #anon #no matter what ANYONE else thinks i like u a lot #also the fact that u even care about what i think at all so much as to ask for my help 😩💗💗💗 #writing is not my strong suit so i hope this is coherent #also im sorry if this is too wordy and i sound like i have a stick up my ass ..... my university is lowkey known for that 🥴🙄😒 #take care of yourself anon there are better days ahead i PROMISE

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes. 

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile. 

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon fanfic #my writing

[romanceforransom]

There was a writer!sander fic that i started a little while ago but didn’t know where to go with it. So, I decided to post it here 🤷‍♀️

I might continue it...? idk. but let me know what you think :) 

I ran into my local bookshop, the bell notifying my entrance as I swung open the heavy wooden door.

I had made sure to set my alarm extra early for that morning, giving myself enough time to get there before I had to make my way to work. There was a book that I had been waiting what felt like years for, and I wanted to pick it up as soon as humanly possible.

“Has it come?” I asked excitedly, rushing over to the front desk and locking eyes with an amused Zoë

She was used to my erratic behaviour by now, becoming desensitised to my hyperactive persona that I don whenever a new book comes out.

Not that I do it with every book. Of course, I love most things that come out, burying my nose in anything that I possibly can. But nothing gets me quite as excited as the books by Earthling Oddity.

Nobody knew this unknown author’s real name, or what they looked like. The air of mystery obviously created a lot of hype, gaining them a lot of followers trying to crack the code and reveal the hidden identity. What really made them popular, though, was the magical way they created stories.

I was always completely enraptured by the words written on the pages. Becoming engrossed in the fictional world they created and riding out the waves of emotions that came with the storylines.

They had come out with a new book recently, a new addition to one of their series, and I had been patiently (except not really. Unless pacing up and down the flat and checking my phone constantly for updates was considered as being patient) for it to be delivered to my bookstore.

“It’s here” Zoë replied, sounding amused “I reserved one for you, even though I knew you would be the first one in here today”

She reached underneath the desk and produced the long-awaited book

I stared at it in awe, admiring the bright colours and detailed art on the front cover.

“Wow” I breathed out, smiling

“You looking forward to reading it?”

I tore my eyes away from the book and looked up at her, squinting my eyes slightly “Seriously? I have been counting down the days for this book! Of course, I’m looking forward to finally being one step closer to unravelling the mystery that lies between the pages…”

She chuckled as I lifted my hand to tenderly stroke the front cover “Should I leave you two alone?”

“No, that’s ok” I said, picking it up and placing it gently in my backpack “I have to get going anyway”

“Ok, well keep me updated on it!”

I walked backward towards the door, grinning “Hourly updates are a given”

***

“Why are you carrying your bag so carefully?” Jana asked me curiously as I got to work

I had placed it gently on the ground in the back room with my coat, not wanting to damage the valuable contents lying inside of it.

“Seriously Jana? It’s got the book that I’ve been waiting months for”

Realisation washed over her face. I had been talking her ear off about it for a number of shifts. The amount of information she had actually been listening to and retaining would forever be a mystery, but she let me talk all the time without much judgement so that was the main thing.

“Aah ok, that makes more sense”

I pulled my apron over my head “What did you think was in there?”

She shrugged as she went back to stacking food in the display case “Judging by the way you were handling it, I thought for sure there was a bomb in there”

I shook my head at her amusedly “So your co-worker has a bomb, and you don’t do a thing to stop it? The least you could have done was taken my bag”

“We have a full shift ahead of us, Robbe” she deadpanned “Excuse me for not having much pep right now. I want to move as little as possible and retain the small amount of energy I have stored. Wrestling a bomb from you would probably take everything I had”

“Oh, come on. Shifts here aren’t that bad”

She raised her eyebrows at me “Go out all night drinking before our next shift and then tell me that again”

We both worked at a coffee shop in town. I actually quite enjoyed it. Being able to chat with people and brighten their day with coffee and cakes was a nice feeling.

Of course, it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever. Film making was my passion, the thing that I aspired to do in the future. Maybe even make some adaptations of Earthling’s books. Who knows? But, for now at least, I had to make do with making drinks.

Unlike me, Jana really did not like her job. She liked interacting with the customers, being the social butterfly she is, but the part where she actually had to serve and clean was never really something she enjoyed doing.

If I got paid every time she moaned when cleaning down the tables, there would be no need for this job. I would be rolling in money. She always claimed that it was manual labour, and she was going to sue the company for it. It did make me wonder what she thought would happen when she signed up for the job, but I never dared ask as she was always in a mood. It was best not to make things worse and just nod along.

“So, that book you have” she said “That’s the one with the mystery author, right?”

I nodded “Yep, they use a pen name. Lots of people have obviously tried to step forward and claim to be the author but the real one has yet to be revealed. If they ever will be. Fame isn’t for everyone, so I wouldn’t blame them for keeping hidden and basking silently in the glory of their writing”

“Aren’t you curious about who it is?” she asked me

“Well, yeah” I replied “I have always wondered who it is. I would love to be able to properly give my gratitude to the person that created such wonderful books… but I wouldn’t go out of my way to try and drag someone into the spotlight that doesn’t want to be there”

Many people on the internet have been trying to do exactly that. I have never understood why. Sure, you want to be the one to solve this giant question. But if it involves having to invade someone’s private life and tear down all the security and boundaries, they have built around them in order to remain anonymous, why would you want to do that?

What does revealing a random stranger’s identity add to your life? Nothing. It wouldn’t make you best friends with this person. In fact, you would probably end up as public enemy number one. Snooping in other people’s business isn’t cute, it’s creepy. Especially when they go out of their way to hide it.

The customers began flooding in. People coming in for their takeaway cups of coffee to beat away the morning tiredness. Monday’s were always especially bad. The weekend always wipes people out. Combining that with five days left of work looming over their head, a constant reminder of the seemingly never-ending week ahead of them, anyone would be exhausted.

Then, after a while, I spotted a familiar head of bleach blonde head of hair among the crowd out the corner of my eye.

“Robbe” I heard Jana hiss beside me as I continued making drinks for the awaiting customers “He’s here!”

Sander was a regular at the shop. He would always come in with an easy smile on his face and instantly brighten my day.

He was one of the most beautiful people I had ever laid my eyes on. Not only that, but he was also incredibly kind. Always dishing out compliments and making conversation with us while he patiently waited for his order. He has even defended us a couple of times when customers have been rowdy and impatient during the rush hours. Sander was just an all-round saint.

Jana knew that I had a small crush on him. I never told her outright, but she saw the way my face lit up whenever he was around and joined the dots herself.

I waited until he got to the front of the line and greeted him with a shy smile, trying not to blush like I normally did

“Hey, Robbe!” he said, grinning “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good” I squeaked “Will it be your usual, today?”

Ok, so maybe small crush was a bit of an understatement. He always seemed to make me tongue tied and act like a complete idiot. Which was a great way to act in front of someone you want to impress.

He nodded “You know me so well. Either that or I am in here too often”

“Nonsense!” Jana called to him “We love having you in here, Sander… some more than others” she muttered under breath, meaning only for me to hear it

As I was making his drink (a chocolate mocha – which was basically just a fancy coffee with chocolate, always with whipped cream on top) he leaned against the counter, making light conversation with Jana and me. He never seemed aware that we were at work and that he might be holding up the queue. Not that there were many of them at that moment. He had come just at the right time, most of the people filing out and going to their jobs.

“So, did that book come that you were talking about?” he asked me

“Um, yeah” I was surprised he remembered. I had made an offhand remark about it a few weeks back. But then, he always did seem to pick up on small details like that often “I got it this morning before I came to work. The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is run home to read it”

“Really?” he said, sounding faintly surprised “You are that eager to read it?”

I turned towards him, placing the steaming cup of coffee on the tray next to the croissant Jana got for him.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for it for so long… it takes priority over everything else as far as I’m concerned”

“You know Robbe” Jana said teasingly from beside me, jabbing me lightly in the side “forever a bookworm”

Sander smiled as he picked up the tray from the counter “When I come back, you’ll have to tell me how you’re finding it”

Just as I was about to reply, Jana jumped in “He’ll only have good things to say. He’s obsessed with this author, won’t shut up about them. It’s kind of annoying actually”

He smirked “Maybe I’ll have to check them out”

“You should!” I told him enthusiastically “Their works are amazing. Even if you aren’t really into reading, this person can have you drawn in with just a page of their writing”

“I don’t doubt that, I’m sure you have impeccable taste” Sander said, winking at me

He often did that but even after weeks of seeing it, I was still blown away each time. He always seemed to take my breath away without even trying.

Sander made his way over to a table, placing his tray down and taking out his small black notebook as normal. It was his daily routine and moved like clockwork every time. I don’t think there has been a single day he has come in when he hasn’t been scribbling away dedicatedly in there, pen moving furiously across the paper.

I was always curious about what he was doing in it, but never dared ask. It could be something deeply personal and private, I wouldn’t want to invade his comfort zone like that.

He was in his own world when he wrote. As soon as the book was opened it was like a protective bubble opened up around him, blocking out anyone and everything from his work. If we wanted to ask if he wanted a refill or anything else to eat, it would take a few tries to get his attention. Sander manages to block it out so easily.

Although it was a similar thing when I read. It was like escaping to another realm where nobody could reach you. Like a haven that you could take shelter in and escape from all your problems, if only for a short amount of time.

#wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfic #fanfic

[vegetalass]

hcs of the gang being quarantined in one big house together maybe?? 🥺 lub ur writing

i lub u, anon!!🥺 sorry this took forever!

General 

Oh my godddddddddd

They had to stop doing movie nights because there was too much fighting 

They tried to set it up such that everyone got a turn to pick a movie but there were still complaints

Now, movies are viewed at random and the policy is that 

1. The TV is first come first serve

2. You have to announce when you’re using it

3. Anyone is allowed to join you 

This has stemmed into multiple people shouting “IM WATCHING _____” at random times

And yes, people will try to hide the remote (mostly Sean)

If they can find it, that is

The lines between public and private property have been blurred. Everything must be labeled or there is a chance someone will take it 

You can risk it, but it’s not recommended since they’re all dudes and will most likely eat anything 

And even with your name on a box of graham crackers, there’s still a chance someone will stick their hand it in and steal a few

All the dudes walk around in their Long Johns like it’s not awkward

They have to do their own laundry so everyone is missing socks

Or they have extras

And wet laundry is constantly being left on the ground if it’s unattended and someone needs the washer 

Arthur

This dude double dips 

He licks the spoon and puts it back in, too 

Gets yelled at a lot for this, but never remembers to stop

Everybody is afraid to touch all of the dips now because of this 

And Hosea has to start buying separate ones just for Arthur

He’s the one who takes 3 hour baths 

I imagine that there’s multiple bathrooms in the house but not enough for everyone so there are definitely times when people are like “WTF, Arthur you’re still in there?” or “Where’s Arthur?” 

Usually it’s Charles or John because they don’t mind sharing a bathroom with each other 

Cue Arthur having accidentally fallen asleep in the tub 

But yea he’s just chilling in there, otherwise

Started the quarantine off by trying to fix up the house… But immediately got lazy

There’s probably a number of things he keeps saying that he’ll “get to, eventually”

The only reason Dutch hasn’t called someone is because it’s a PANDEMIC

Technologically challenged 

Barely knows how to turn on the TV and still uses an iPhone 5 that has pretty much stopped working

John has given up trying to explain how to make things fullscreen on YouTube

Because of this, probably spends most of his time wandering around the yard and reading or journaling

Tilly even bought him some scrapbooking supplies, which he’s been trying to use 

Little washi tapes and highlighters because she knows it can’t get too complicated too fast 

She also makes him an Instagram account so he can take photos or post art

But figuring out how it works is a losing battle, and he never remembers to use it, anyway 

“I think we should get a pet” 

Everyone: “Arthur... Do we look like we take care of ourselves? 

If anyone tries to talk about how annoying the quarantine is, starts ranting about people who refuse to take it seriously

And the conversation ends up spiraling into him blaming capitalism for everything

John 

Every other meal he eats is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Doritos

He does that thing where he wraps a bowl or plate in plastic wrap so he doesn’t have to wash it 

Doesn’t clean up after himself

Leaves used tissues, slimy butter knives with PB on them, and crusty socks laying around 

Unluckiest of them all 

His snacks get taken the most, the bathroom is always occupied when he needs it, never gets to use the TV, his laundry is always moved, etc. 

Always ends up using the bathroom when there’s no toilet paper

Texts Arthur for help and then makes an announcement in the group chat about “common courtesy” 

Nobody replies

His texts are full of messages to Abigail that all say the same thing

“Help.” + “Please come get me” + “I hate it here”

They’re all left on read except for the occasional response asking if he needs anything from Target

The list he sends back is like four paragraphs long and it’s all dumb stuff 

He’s like “FaceTime me when you get there, I wanna go shopping too”

Doesn’t even really want to leave the house for necessities, so he has to do stuff like water down his soaps or steal other people’s toiletries just to prolong how often he needs to go shopping for himself

He’s the one using Irish Spring from the dollar store mixed with water or a block of orange Dial soap that hasn’t been touched in five years 

Charles tries to throw away an empty hand soap and John is like “THERE’S STILL SOAP IN THERE LOOK” *mixes water with it* 

Steals razors and Shampoo 

Thinks conditioner is “unnecessary” and “doesn’t do anything” 

Complains about being bored but doesn’t bother to do the things people that people offer

Charles 

Voluntarily becomes a recluse 

Not because he wants to but because everyone else is too annoying to deal with 

He’s forced to start using the internet and when he’s not on the computer he’s trying to block out the noise of the 8 other men he lives with just living 

Going on walks is his other hobby

Also probably buys one of those adult coloring books to color

Like Athur, Charles hogs the bathroom 

It’s not as bad as Arthur since he’s not in the tub for the whole time but he really will spend an hour getting ready in the morning for absolutely no reason 

If anyone asks about it he just tells them that since they’re in quarantine there’s no reason to rush 

But he does get yelled at if there’s no other bathrooms available 

Becomes a self-care connoisseur 

Walks around in a bathrobe and face mask just to try and achieve some sort of zen 

Literally the only one who doesn’t walk around half naked

Besides Hosea, the one of the only guys who tries to wake up on time and eat three healthy meals a day 

The house is entirely dark and he’s eating toast while Hosea makes coffee 

It’s awkward, not because they’re weird about each other but because no one else is awake and it’s quiet for once 

Dutch is the third person up and Charles leaves the kitchen by the time he’s around 

Gave up trying to do the dishes and only cleans what he uses

Sometimes if he feels like being nice he’ll do Arthur’s dishes, too 

But only if he gets something back in return, like Arthur doing his laundry or something

The only one who changes his bedsheets on the regular

Him and Kieran are the only ones trusted by Hosea to leave the house safely 

Micah 

Everyone is surprised Micah isn’t dead yet

Everyone is constantly fed up with him for something or for just being irritating 

And try to ignore him for the most part, which is hard

Tries to defends himself with “Well, you don’t have to bother me if you don’t want to” 

Doesn’t clean up after himself, either

John leaves more mess, but Micah does worse stuff 

While John just leaves his dirty peanut butter knives around, Micah does stuff like forget to put the mayo back in the fridge, leave the bread bag out and open, forgets to bring his used dishes to the dishwasher, throws his trash in other people’s trash cans, leaves his wet laundry in the dryer, etc. 

If it’s annoying and gross, he does it 

And tries to eat food that other people have made for themselves or don’t want to share with him 

Dutch is the only one who shares with him willingly

Does not pick up his hair from the bottom of the shower

And doesn’t clean the sink after he shaves

Honestly, I doubt any of the drains in the house work properly because so much shaving goes on 

It’s honestly surprising to everyone that he takes the quarantine seriously 

Accuses people of being sick even though all of them have barely left the house… 

Wears a mask inside when he’s feeling salty 

He doesn’t even care about the mask, it’s just to make people feel gross and bad about themselves

Besides Sean, he’s always trying to hog the TV

And everything he watches is annoying, pretentious, or both

Complains about there being “nothing to watch” despite always having something on and refusing to stop

Tries to smoke inside and literally always get busted for it

Even if other people are doing it too, he’s the one who doesn’t even bother to be by a window when he does it

His room is always off limits 

If you need something from him you need to knock and wait in the doorway

Also does the “You’re too close… Step back, please” thing

And if anyone gets mad, says it’s a pandemic and he’s just trying to be SAFE

Mostly does this to feel powerful

Turns in to Uncle Jr. with all the complaining and berating he does

Uncle is honestly offended

Hosea

The only person allowed to do the shopping 

He gave up trying to give people lists because the groceries they came back with were never right 

Either too few, too many, not the right stuff... You name it 

See here for more

That’s why, despite being the oldest, he’s the one who goes grocery shopping for meals twice a week 

Refuses to buy alcohol because of incidents that they’ve had

Can’t stop people from sneaking it, though

Similar to Dutch in that he gets annoyed when people oversleep, but because its quarantine, he tries to not mention it, and at the worst, gets passive aggressive 

Tries to make a chore chart for people to follow but it gets ignored

He ends up having to force people to do things by reminding them constantly 

He’s the one who starts opening people’s doors in the morning and turning on the lights

Makes everybody start eating on paper plates with plastic silverware because he’s tired of trying to make people use the dishwasher 

Arthur doesn’t know how, John doesn’t put his plates in the right place, Charles refuses to since no one else contributes to keeping it neat, Micah doesn’t even know they have one, Kieran also can’t fill it correctly... 

Basically, it’s too much for Hosea to handle 

His dinners are all Costco pre-made meals that can be made quickly 

Frozen lasagna and prepackaged salad type stuff 

He’s the guy who falls asleep on the couch sitting up while watching TV and if you try to talk to him he says “I’m awake” without opening his eyes

And if he’s using it, don’t even think about suggesting to change the channel 

The answer is and always will be no

Even when he’s not really paying attention

And it’s either on the History Channel or Discovery Channel

Always complaining about how cold his feet are

Doesn’t let anyone touch the thermostat

He’s an in real life Elf on the Shelf

Dutch 

If anyone, and I mean anyone starts sleeping in, he gets in a really pissy mood 

“While I’m up, doing work for you, you’re sitting in bed being lazy!!!” and “What do you mean you don’t understand why! Why should I have to tell you why wasting the day is annoying to all those who are working!” 

Even despite this, he can’t actually change the fact that no one wakes up on time

And it’s not like the work he’s doing for them is very important

He’s the one who thinks that a pandemic is the perfect time to be or do something useful

Eat healthy, write a book, pump iron… Anything

And when people complain about being useless he’s like “You have all this free time!!!1! Stop complaining!!! You can do anything!!!” 

And if he’s doing something he considers useful, yells at people who try to bother him 

Arthur: “Hosea wanted to know-”

Dutch: *doing sit ups* “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?” 

When it’s his turn to cook dinner, he’s making 8 boxes of Trader Joe’s mac and cheese in a huge pot and calling a meal

Literally the only meal no one complains about 

He won’t clean the pot when it’s finished, though

Literally just cooks and leaves it out for someone else to deal with

Another self-care aficionado 

Also walks around in a bathrobe and face mask 

He’s worse than Charles though, because while Charles wears pants... Dutch will be booty ass naked under his 

Also keeps trying to make homemade masks and scrubs and walks around in those, too 

He’s like “This is a good one, I can tell already” 

Everyone: “Dutch... is that... mayo... in your hair?”

Annoyingly good at monopoly

Does not invite Molly over and gets yelled at over FaceTime

Cue everyone eavesdropping on their arguments

Goes on power walks

Yells at people when they listen to loud music with swear words 

Honestly, always yelling at people

“Can somebody get me my slippers? Arthur? John? Hosea? AnYoNe!!!”

Kieran 

Spends the least time in the bathroom because he’s afraid of getting yelled at 

Does everything in five minute increments 

Except for showers, when he allows himself ten minutes

Barely 

Most of what he eats is just microwave popcorn and shredded cheese

He’s the one asking people if they want to go on “family walks” with him

Literally no one joins him 

Also tries to play board games with everyone

This goes a little better at least because Hosea will sometimes play and if he’s there, a few people will definitely join 

Very bad at monopoly

The most conscious about wearing a mask 

The others wear them but Kieran is the one who wears double masks, gloves, and carries around Febreeze 

Also will get mad if anyone forgets their “safety equipment” 

Or if they’re within six feet of him in public

Props to him though for staying healthy 

I’ve mentioned this before, but... Spends most of his time playing games on a big tablet wearing headphones

Candy Crush and FarmVille and Words with Friends and stuff like that

Though all of his internet friends are weird old ladies he doesn’t know 

Everyone is mad at him for sending non-stop game notifications, too

Hosea is the only one who responds to any of them 

He’ll never admit this, though

Also tries to start doing arts and crafts 

Mary-Beth started telling him about the various crafts she’s been doing, so he’s started trying to follow along, too 

Things like crocheting or popsicle stick art 

His stuff all looks bad, but he’s just happy to be doing it

And to be FaceTiming Mary-Beth

When he gets to choose a movie, he’s picking a “family-friendly” movie like Inside Out or Lilo and Stitch 

Everyone starts out being mad but they all end up watching the whole thing without complaining 

Heated debates ensue, too 

For example, like about whether Flynn should’ve cut Repunzel’s hair in Tangled 

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG?” 

Charles + Arthur vs. Dutch + Bill

Makes meatloaf or Hamburger Helper like once a week

They’re basically the only thing he knows how to make 

Sides with Arthur when he suggests getting a pet

Wears a Snuggie 

Doesn’t change his socks 

Javier

Plays his own music very loudly and won’t turn it off or down if you ask 

Either that or he’s practicing guitar 

It’s not really that bad but when you can’t escape it.... People get mad 

The only saving grace is that the singing is usually in Spanish so it’s not as bothersome

The door to his room is always closed

Refuses to open it

To talk to him, you have to knock and then he’ll exit

Dutch is the only one allowed in and he thinks Javier’s rules about entering are creepy so never does it

Javier cooks his own food and won’t share

Only makes enough for exactly one person so even if he wanted to, there’s not enough

Eats dinner in his room to prevent people from bothering him or asking for some

However, he has the biggest stash of quarantine snacks… 

No one knows where he gets them

And getting him to share is like trying to do a drug deal, but he’s not against it as long as he gets something in return 

He didn’t personally cook all these snacks so the rules are different 

His room is full of scented candles to make it smell better since the whole house kinda smells like Boy 

Buys a gamer chair at the start of quarantine 

Claims it’s more comfortable than the office chair that Dutch and Hosea chose for everyone

Everyone is jealous

Wears fuzzy pajama pants only 

Sean

Sean is the one sleeping in

Never sleeps in his bed and just falls asleep wherever, basically

Usually the couch

Because he’s always snoozing, he’s the one who watches the most TV

Micah claims this isn’t “fair,” despite doing the same thing

And even if he’s not watching TV, he’s just using the couch to watch Tik Toks full volume 

Tries to make his own Tik Toks, but they either stink or no one wants to participate

Constantly having people get mad at him for recording them 

Stopped wearing clothes the moment quarantine started

Always in a tank top and his underpants 

It’s kinda weird 

People cared at first but by now they can’t be bothered to complain since they’re 

1. Used to it 

2. Probably start doing the same thing

Leaves his laundry laying around

Also won’t share anything he’s eating 

Gets mad when people steal food

Doesn’t address anyone in particular though, just walks around yelling about how “nobody has the common decency not to steal” 

Has food delivered almost every other day 

No one knows where he’s getting the money from, either

Everyone think it’s a waste

Mostly because he doesn’t share, but also because all hell broke loose when Hosea found out about an expense called “delivery fees” 

Also has a stick up his ass about wasting food 

Started yelling about this randomly, too 

If he can’t force someone else to finish leftovers, he forces himself to finish them 

Probably gets caught watching a certain type of nasty video a lot

Lowkey it probably happens to everybody at least once

Yells at anti-maskers 

Tries to wrestle the other boys and gets his ass handed to him

Bill

Possessive of everything 

Usually he’s not this bad but being cooped up with a bunch of thieves and liars doesn’t make him confident that his Circus Animal cookies will last very long 

Doesn’t share anything and very adamant about making sure there’s labels on things so nothing gets mixed up

Also makes his own space in the fridge with tape 

BILL’S SPACE DO NOT TOUCH 

And will start yelling in anything is moved 

Not as bad as Sean though because he only cares about his own stuff

The whole thing is super hypocritical though, because he definitely steals other people’s stuff

If he gets caught, claims “it’s only fair” 

Hosea has to buy him soap because he won’t buy it himself

Definitely the one who learns how to make prison hooch with cranberry juice and yeast

And the one who eats all of the ice cream 

Even the nasty flavors 

Wears the same clothes everyday because since he’s not working, “they’re not dirty” 

They start getting holes in them, though

If anyone tries to suggest something for him to do, he gets mad and claims he “knows how to entertain himself”

Also constantly accusing people of being in his space or business 

Ends up starting a ton of fights over this and then complaining about how mean everyone is to him 

He’s not doing it on purpose, though 

Ends up buying some kind of gaming console to pass the time

If he buys an Xbox, he shares with the rest of the boys

If he buys a nintendo switch, he starts playing Animal Crossing and doesn’t put it down for weeks 

Out of everyone… He’s the one who takes the pandemic the least serious 

He follows the rules because he doesn’t want to be eaten alive by any of the boys, but he probably thought the virus was a hoax at first 

He learned his lesson the first time he tried to go out without a mask and got locked in the car, though

Forgets to flush the toilet 

His room is dirty

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #HOPE U ENJOY ANON SORRY IM SLOW #and will probs continue to be slow #my car broke down at mcdonalds today LOL and by the time it got fixed mcdonalds WAS FUCKING CLOSED #i was so sad my mom actually ended up taking me to a different one #but they didnt have what i wanted LOL #but it was fine bc i was happy with just fries #also y'all.... my sink is fixed and let me tell u #I AM NEVER PAYING FOR A PLUMBER AGAIN #i took that bitch apart and snaked it myself #and enough hair to make a wig came out of it but she was fixed #and i saved so much money my mom bought me lunch as a reward #LOL #anyways i love u all thanks for reading hope this shows up in the tags and u like it #i hope i put enough!! #and lmk if i should republish in a new format #i keep getting scared to make a new post and not answer anon directly #oH WELL JUST CATO PROBLEMS #also went back to work and it was... fine i guess #idk #Anonymous

[fimflamfilosophy]

Characters Akimbo, and How to Create Them

A long time ago, I wrote an article called “OCs Akimbo and How to Make Them”. This was in the golden age of the internet when people still owned their own websites and we walked uphill, through the snow, both ways because it was good for our glutes. We didn’t need to be fed a constant stream of memes produced by bots in Malaysia because we were not yet living in a post-ironic, dystopian future where many are forced to work from home or not at all. The joy came to us naturally in those times, and a “meme” was a thing that saved bandwidth, so you couldn’t spam them – bad memes were a waste of money and a waste of good internets.

But that article has been lost, swallowed up like so many other web-ventures of old by the insatiable beast known on Walstreet as FANG (Facebook, Amazon, Netflix, and Google; Netflix is in there because the acronym is rude otherwise). Also, people don’t write articles anymore. They’re too efficient and only run ads at the top and bottom of the page without interrupting what you’re trying to read, unless the author is one of the sub-human monsters that puts ads in the middle of his articles and makes you scroll past them just to get the rest of his insipid opinion. Rest assured, my insipid opinions come without ads in the middle. And likely without ads at the top or bottom, either, because maybe only a hundred people will read this and that’s worth about $0.01 today.

So characters! You want to make a character! Put your hands down, we’re not taking questions until later, so for now we assume you’re reading this because you want to make a character for something. I don’t really care what. Whether it’s for a roleplaying game, which has become more in vogue recently thanks to the show “Stranger Things”, I hear, or because you want to present yourself as a foxy cat-girl getting busy with a catty fox-man in your dirty, filthy Discord group.

If you’re designing a character for amorous roleplay, I assume the reality is that you are fundamentally playing yourself, with all the same excruciating hang ups and personal insecurities, except as an animal. But suppose you didn’t want to play as yourself? How to go about that. Well, there are several ways of thinking about it, but since I’m the author, I will use my tyranny of the mic to write as though my perspective is the only valid one.

You Choose Your Shirt, You Choose Your Life

We’ll start with the basic way to make any character and have it work. Figure out how they feel, and then play everything around coping with those feelings. No, seriously, it’s the simple banality of human existence and anything else you can think of is just going to be taking a back seat to whatever your personal psychosis is. That’s all you are – a wet sack of flesh with crippling mental problems and a strategy to overcome them.

To put this in terms you shouldn’t understand, think of how you choose to put on a shirt in the morning. Maybe you choose the shirt because it says something on it, or because you like a specific color, but how do you know you like that color? How do you know you like the band, or the terrible joke you should be embarrassed to wear in public? When asked these questions, many people will try to draw a string of logic. They’ll say that red is a dominant color, or they want to support their favorite musician, or they’re being post ironic and the point of their joke shirt is that it’s not supposed to make anyone happy.

But these are all falsehoods. Every time you put on a shirt, you don’t actually examine the whole wardrobe on an intellectual level and compare their relative advantages and disadvantages on factors as minute as color. People who do such a thing are considered to be obsessive compulsive, which is considered a disorder because they are barely able to make choices. The more time you spend trying to logically examine such a thing, the less able you are to do anything. The truth is, you pick your shirt on a whim because you feel like it, and you like the color red because it reminds you of succulent berries, or your monkey ancestor’s big red ass, or something. The insistence that red is a “power color” is just something people make up.

Many snap decisions come down to your lizard hind-brain and your feelings. People argue that their intellect is so huge, this is no longer true for them, but emotions actually control most of our decisions because emotions work quickly and easily. If you see something and it makes you scared, or angry, you react accordingly and right away. You don’t have ten minutes to evaluate the sight of a snake and determine based on its colors and head shape whether or not it’s venomous. If your kid climbs a tree, you don’t get to do a lot of math about their weight and the height they’re climbing at before you get nervous. Your instincts and your emotions are the same thing, and it’s how you make the majority of your choices.

There are some exceptions, when you have time, where you can try to evaluate facts and figures and try to let that shape how you feel about something, but in this day and age I’m sure everyone has had enough heated political arguments to realize that for many people, feelings can be difficult to change. In fact, much logic is only presented to specifically alter your feelings, and not necessarily to provide you with more comprehensible information. Ultimately, even things you spend a lot of time thinking about eventually get processed on an emotional level.

The Past and the Future are the Same Thing

So what does all this mean for making a character? Well, let’s divert into a little anecdote. I enjoy role-playing games as a hobby, and learned to play in a group that enjoyed a lot of theater and acting. We often shunned systems that were heavy on rules and templates, and focused mainly on having dynamic character personalities with clear motives, then playing those games around those characters. This made running games fairly easy for the guy in charge, because all he had to do was invent a colorful cast of faces for the group to interact with, and then see who they hated the most, then go from there.

But most groups are not especially fond of acting. Dungeons and Dragons is handily the most popular roleplaying system out there, and it’s no coincidence that it’s also one of the most restrictive in terms of describing your job within the group and telling you what you’ll learn as the game progresses. In D&D, the fighter fights, the wizard wizzes, the rogue steals everyone’s money and has to do everything in secret or otherwise the whole rest of the table declares a spot check every time he does literally anything.

And it was while running a game with a D&D sort of group that I first encountered a player who had written four pages of backstory for their character. Just to reiterate, I learned to play with a group that focused entirely on character motives and acting, and I had never been given a four page backstory before. Once we had enough experience, my old group could typically sum up a character backstory verbally, in a few sentences. It would be easy to remember and you wouldn’t write it down because all the important details were short.

There’s something to delve into regarding brevity, but to focus on this four page character – none of the backstory made sense or really conveyed how the character felt about anything. This character, as far as I can recall, obtained magic powers because he walked down an alleyway, was accosted by cultists, the cultists cast a spell, the cultists exploded, and then the character could cast magic. I think he may have also been some kind of zombie, but I don’t remember because it wasn’t an element that was integral, except, I believe, the player used it as justification to hide their magic powers. They were embarrassed about being undead, or something, and even though the rest of the group was doing magic, the character thought their magic would be linked to their lack of pulse. It wasn’t even useful magic – it was the ability to throw fireballs, so hiding it was the best possible way to make the character non-functional.

The rest of the writing was irrelevant. There was information about family history, past work, blood type – whatever – I barely remember it because it was frosting with no cake. The player never wrote a character. They wrote an expository list of events that were all linked to one person without any sort of personality. That is, the player never really understood how this character felt, or how that shaped their life, and it’s clear they hoped that by writing enough things, eventually a character might take shape. As though you might learn a lot about a man by listing what kinds of weeds were growing in his back yard, or by listing the cities he’s lived in, or by listing a chronological sequence of events the person was present during.

This player, and frankly nobody, should ever require a four page back-story for a character. When it comes to writing a character, the core element of who they are, the past, present, and future are all the same. If this person has anger problems, they probably have a pattern of lashing out, and solving their life’s problems by being too frustrating to deal with. If they’re timid, they probably have a history of conflict avoidance. If they’re smooth talkers, they think they can talk their way through everything. Whatever emotional way people engage with the world around them, they’re likely to behave like that through their past, present, and future. You can know who someone is in the present and know who they’ll be in the future without examining an in-depth historical report of their past. Indeed, how else could we interact with other humans if this weren’t the truth?

People get confused easily, and will quickly insist that the backstory makes the character because they see on TV, constantly, stories about the past. A show will say, “this man is like this because of something that happened to him years ago”. But what you have to realize is that when TV does it, and when it does it well, it’s not the past that defines the character. The past events being described are conflict. Say it with me: CONFLICT. Not character.

Conflicting Over Conflict

Conflict is what a character reacts to, and it drives the story forward. So let’s consider, if you were to show a character’s past, how is that story structured. Well first you begin with a character, right? Because without the character, how do you know how this person will react to conflicts? You don’t. So the character is designed before the backstory. So what is this story of the past? It’s a story about some conflict and how the character interacted with it.

If your character in the present is a knife-wielding maniac, then one plausible story about their past would be when they were confronted by a problem that was solved by stabbing the problem. What this shows you is that the character moved towards this behavior of violence, and it worked for them so they kept doing it. Over time, they came to believe that most problems could be resolved by stabbing things, and that’s just how they live now, but it still takes a specific kind of person to try stabbing something the first time.

If you imagine a violent person, you may also imagine they tried conflict avoidance and it didn’t work. Perhaps they tried being confident, and they were quickly ground down. Finally they resorted to violence and achieved success, but that may have been after a long progression of abuse, which is why they also don’t form personal attachments or trust anyone. These looks at the past can add a lot of flesh and explanation to why your character feels certain ways about certain things – why they feel their life’s coping strategies are the best ones. That’s why when you see them, a good story of the past gives the viewer the feeling that they’ve developed a better sense of who the character is.

Whether the past defines the character or the character defines their past is a chicken and the egg question, and something you as a writer would have to decide. There’s no one answer and there are good ways to go about both approaches, so long as you know who your character is before you start doing any writing at all. Because whatever you write, the event you describe will merely be a conflict, a moment, and how the character reacts to that conflict tells a viewer who that character is.

In and Out of Character

Speaking of role-playing games: you’ll find the overwhelming majority of players are on about the same level as those guys pretending to be cat-girls in their filthy, unspeakable Discord group. That is, most people just play themselves, but with a gimmick. They play themselves, but with a stutter, or they’re french, or a they’re a cat-girl, or a they’re a samurai, or they’re a robot; they can be anything, but not anyone.

This gets a bit more into acting, which actually does play in to every work of fiction. To act properly, you need to be able to put yourself comfortably in the mind-space of your character and behave as though you only know what your character knows. The generations-old story of the rogue that steals from the party is a great example of the challenge at work here.

Imagine you’re facing a lot of life-and-death situations back to back with somebody, but this person is also slippery and difficult to trust. They never let you down openly, but they’re constantly wrangling you into bad contracts that benefit them, and you think they might be embezzling the group’s funds. In terms of writing a story, this is a good opportunity for conflict. A good role-playing group can handle this on the fly, while a typical role-playing group absolutely can’t.

A typical role-playing group always has the same response. Whenever the rogue tries to skim a little money off the top, the whole table rolls “spot checks” to catch the thief in the action, and then prevent him from stealing there in the moment. This is what the people playing the game regard as an enforcement action to prevent stealing – as long as the whole table rolls, someone is usually going to roll high enough to catch the rogue before he gets away with it. But how does every character in the game know to be hyper vigilant all of the sudden? Well, they don’t, and just rolling dice at people isn’t how we solve conflicts like this in the real world.

A good group will actually start to develop suspicions they’re being stolen from only after it happens, as they do their accounting and realize they’re short some cash. They may suspect the rogue, but they rely on him to find and disarm traps, and he’s somewhat irreplaceable. So the conflict now becomes trying to solve that problem without simply executing the rogue on a mere suspicion. The other players have to go out of their way to try set some bait or catch the rogue in the act, and if they prove what he’s done, then there can be a punishment. If the rogue keeps getting away with it, perhaps the party starts establishing rules to try to cull the potential for stealing, and now the rogue has to work around these new restrictions.

The second group is more nuanced and more believable. They’re facing a conflict and trying to figure out a way around it, instead of just using game mechanics to stop it entirely. And while this may seem like it begins and ends with roleplaying groups, the logic here works for most every other medium. You can never just have characters behaving as though they know things they aren’t supposed to know, and the way your characters react should follow the fundamentals of how they feel. Characters react to what they know, not what the audience knows.

Another example that would follow closer to other fiction is the following: quite recently I played a super hero game as a “reformed villain”, which basically meant I was playing a villain. The main hero died, leaving a vacuum in leadership, and at the same time a new, young hero joined the group. My villain character quickly swept in and began mentoring this fresh, young recruit, introducing him to as many morally gray aspects of the job as possible. Using deception to get closer to villains, fighting people who were too insane to know better, sometimes even doing lasting harm to ordinary people in the heat of the moment.

As the game went on, the group demonstrated that being a super hero was a very fine line that was difficult to apply idealism to, but my villain never quite killed anybody. He maimed people. He once dressed as a pizza delivery guy and threw a pizza so hard it knocked somebody unconscious. He sold hotdogs on the street without a permit. All while mentoring this kid and showing him the advantages of tap-dancing on that fine line.

Until the villain did kill somebody. A super scientists who was building deadly “Iron Man” style suits for a gang of terrorists used an ejection seat to try to escape the scene, and the villain threw his shoe. The shoe was thrown so hard, it caused the scientist’s head to burst like it’d been hit by a cannon ball. It all happened in the blink of an eye, against the wind, as the ejection seat rocketed off at dizzying speeds, and the villain claimed the murder was not intentional, even though it was clear at the table that I, the player, the author, had killed the scientist on purpose. It’s something I’d done as a snap decision in reality, because I thought the scientists was dangerous and it seemed in character to make that choice.

What ensued was much less in character. The young ward my villain had been mentoring turned on him instantly and carried on, from that point forward, as though the villain had intentionally killed an innocent man. He used the justification that my villain was very accurate and “never missed”, even though my villain missed his aim plenty of times throughout the adventure. He did not respond to any argument about the potential threat of the scientist, or about the very real possibility of an accident in the heat of the moment.

The player knew it was on purpose. The player felt his naive young character was a fundamentally good person. Ergo, he and the villain were now at mortal odds and could never reconcile. It’s a delicate situation and something that some actual writers could fall into, where the audience is shown the intent behind an ambiguous situation, and somehow the characters come to the same conclusion the audience does even though the characters don’t have the same information.

In television, this is sometimes due to run time limitations. Perhaps the character was supposed to gather more evidence before coming to the conclusion the audience was given, but the evidence gathering was cut to save time. But in a book, or a roleplaying game, there’s really no excuse. Everything should be handled based on what the character knows, and not on what the audience – or in this case the player – knows. At least if you’re a purist. I will be honest and admit there have been some popular works of fiction where characters side with the audience in spite of, in narrative, not even having the same moral system as the audience, let alone their knowledge of the plot.

What you actually should have between the villain and the ward, is a major point of conflict. Not in that the ward knows the villain killed someone on purpose and has an issue with it, but that he doesn’t know if the villain intentionally killed someone. That, in and of itself, is a very real moment of awakening to anyone with idealistic opinions on a job that entails violence and apprehension. It requires soul-searching, and even coming to the conclusion that the villain did kill someone and that it was wrong revolves around a complex set of emotional and moral beliefs.

Such a moment is pivotal to a character. It puts them at their lowest point, where they question all they know and all they ever wanted. Where they doubt everything. And how they come out of that situation? That’s the character’s arc. Denying them of that arc, and simply using the audience’s knowledge to make a fast choice obliterates the character’s development and robs them of an opportunity to tell a story within themselves and to their audience. Using the audience’s knowledge is quick, and keeps you on the same page as the viewers, but it is dirty and tells a less interesting tale.

And Your Point Is…?

So like I mentioned at the start, none of this is actually universal. Some stories are more event-driven, and expository writing can be fascinating as well. You really could write a tale about a sequence of events so long as the events were interesting and kept the audience reading, so a strong character isn’t even always necessary. But for what it’s worth, I think knowing how to make a character in such simple terms makes the whole process of writing much easier. If you know your character, you know how they’ll respond to conflicts, so every story is as easy as thinking up a conflict.

But hey, it’s also true that in some settings, trying to follow the rules of a good character or a good story may hurt you. A lot of role-playing groups will shun that type of thing because they’d rather roll dice at the rogue, and they think the person playing the rogue is in the wrong for trying to skim money from the party, because these people aren’t playing characters, they’re playing a game. They don’t care about an opportunity to have a character conflict with the rogue, they want their money, damnit. The fact they have nothing to spend it on in 5th edition D&D is another matter entirely.

#essay

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Thor & Steve helping hands

Request 

Summary:  could you do a fic/hc where the reader is self-harming and anorexic and Thor and Steve get like really overprotective and slightly overbearing)

Warning: ( As someone who has suffered from self-harm and struggles with gaining weight and appetite this story took a lot out of me. I pulled from my own experiences. So please if you have negative options and comments keep them to yourself) Self-harm, anorexia, language, fluff 

Thor Odinson

head canon 

I don’t think Thor would have a lot of experience with self- harm or anorexic. Asgard seemed like a very body positive place that wouldn’t even me something he heard of and self-harm is more of a private situation. If it was happening very little people knew about it.

Asgardians are a very prideful and strong people

Being with Anorexic Thor would notice when they’re not eating are eating very little. But at first he wouldn’t say anything he knows how Misgardian are about their diets.

It isn’t until he starts paying a bit more attention and starts noticing how their health is actually deteriorating that he actually becomes concerned.

It start watching them paying attention to their eating habit and patterns. He’ll even try to feed them or persuade them to eat of course they’ll turn him down or eat very little.

He’ll even try to do his own research using the internet and Jarvis. Unless it was to the point of them seriously ill I don’t think Thor would involve anyone else.

After a sometime, but not too much, he’ll finally pull them aside and ask them “what’s up”, “what’s wrong”, “ how can I help you”, “please, let me help you”

If they say yes trust and believe Thor will do everything in his power to help them. He will due his research, he’ll use Jarvis, Thor will do everything he can without telling anyone (unless they give him permission to talk others)’

Although he will have them come clean with the others about their troubles and struggles as well so everyone can help. 

Now if they say no Thor is going to go “fuck it” and tell the others what is going on so that everyone can work together to get them the help they need.

Thor will not let them go through this alone whether they want to or not. 

Self-harm can be defined as cutting ones self, punching ones self or a wall, burning ones self, pulling out ones hair, poking objects through body openings, breaking bones or bruising ones self.

If Thor sees something like this he is definitely going to say something whether it be to them or to someone who knows but he’s going to have questions. 

When he first sees it he’s going to assume it was from a mission but if there is no schedule or surprised mission and they’re still hurt he’s going to know something is up.

I think with this Thor is just going to straight up ask them “What’s up?”, “are you okay?”

As an individual Thor will do everything in his power to learn about their condition and their problems and help to the best of his ability.

He will also tell the others. Yeah, there is no hiding this He’s going to tell someone else Bruce most likely as he has a medical background. 

They are going to need medical attention and professional help.

In both Anorexia and self-harm he’s going to be upset their going through this and that they feel like this that they’re going through this alone. Upset that they think they have no one to talk to. 

He’s going to be very upset but at the end of the day he’ll put his feelings aside to help them.

“Have you eaten today?” Thor asked as he gently dabbed the cut on their thigh with an alcohol pad. (Y/n) had a small relapse today but they had come straight to Thor afterwards and told him what they had done. This was a sign of progress in his option but it’s definitely something to talk about with Bruce. He was the medical professional after all. 

“I had a sandwich. I finished it too. You can ask Bruce he watched me this time.” (Y/n) said. At least they were able to do one good think today. 

“How did this happen?” Thor ask as he finished taking care of their thigh. 

“I... I don’t know. I just felt like it and I didn’t stop... I’m sorry”

“No, you have no need to be sorry. I should be sorry for not being there for you.” 

“You were on a mission. You can’t be everywhere.”

“I can try my best. How about we go get a snack” 

“I don’t want to.

“ I wasn’t asking. I talked to Bruce the other day he says you’re still under weight. We’ve got to fix that.” Thor said cleaning up the blood and standing up.

“By over feeding and stuffing me to the max.” Thor held out his hand and smiled 

“Of course”

“You know this is equivalent to bingeing, right?” they said taking his hand and stand up. 

“Bingeing, when you eat a whole bunch in one sitting then fast for a long time.”

“Yeah”

“But you’re eating everyday now, right? You’re not fasting how is this like bingeing? How is this the same? ”Thor asked confused 

“Because I’ll eat regularly everyday but when you leave for a mission for a day or two you come back and demand I eat all you didn’t watch me eat.”

“You need to gain weight” Thor said in a matter-fact tone and motioned to her as if it was obvious. They snatched their arm away from Thor immediately. 

“Don’t you think I know that. I’m sorry but I’m not going to gain weight with the snap of your god like fingers. And I don’t need you constantly reminding me what I’m lacking the mirror has already got that covered.”

“(Y/n)... I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Whatever, I just... I’m not hungry anymore. Go snack without me.” They said as they left the room.

“(Y/n)-”

“Relax I’m going to see Bruce.” 

“... I’m sorry” They didn’t hear him. 

- 

(Y/n) sighed as they sat across from Bruce who quietly worked on his experiment. He had already looked her over and he had documented their relapse.

“you know you don’t need to sigh heavily and loudly to get my attention. You could just ask for it or start talking.” Bruce said 

“Sorry didn’t realize I was doing that. I’m just frustrated.”

“With Thor”

“How did you know?” they said sarcastically “He’s just ... so overbearing. Always hovering like a helicopter parent.” 

“Can you really blame. You need help but you seek the bare minimum.”

“I don’t want everyone in my business. I don’t want to looking at me with pity eyes and holding out their hands like they’re waiting for me to fall. I get enough of that from Thor. He treats me like I’m fragile like I constantly need to hold his hand. I just... I know I’m shit, I know I’m weak, and hopeless I don’t need everyone else to know that.”

“You’re not shit, weak, or hopeless. You just think that and that’s why Thor is constantly hovering” Bruce said putting down his experiment and approaching them. “ You think terrible about yourself. You’re falling apart. Thor is just there to piece you back together and remind you how amazing you are.” he kissed their forehead. “Stop trying to push away the only person you’ve let in. Let him take care of you. There is nothing to be ashamed of in being taken care of.” 

They sighed leaning forward putting their head on Bruce shoulder “ Why are you so smart?”

“I’ve got a lot of PhDs” they laughed.

-

“I’m not hungry” (Y/n) said as they slowly approached Thor he was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of popcorn and watching a movie. “I’ve had a bad couple of days and I don’t think I could really take food right now”

Thor put the bowl of popcorn and the far edge of the coffee table. She sat next to him and curled into his side he tossed a blanket over them.” I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I was just worried that since you …that maybe you weren’t eating enough either.”

“Just cause you’re not here doesn’t mean I don’t do what you ask.”  Thor pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it over the both of them. Kissing their forehead. 

“I think we’ve both have a long way to go”

“...I ate your poptarts” 

Steve Rogers 

Head canon 

Despite no experience Steve will still handle this better than Thor 

He might not understand it at first but he will no what it is and he will do his research. 

Steve is going to sit back and observe them at first. See with their doing is this serious. Like this is what’s happening and it’s not a misunderstanding like this is legit what is happening. 

Once he got the proof he needs Steve will confront them. He’s going to talk to them he’s going to try and find out why they’re doing this, when this started, why did they feel like doing this, how can he possibly help, or understand their situation better. 

He is going to try his best to ask question and better understand their situation from them without making them uncomfortable. Although this is an uncomfortable topic so that much can’t be avoided. 

Steve is going to do his research both with and without them to better help and understand them. 

If they wish to keep the situation private he will, but he is also a little shit. If they’re anorexia he will make them come to every team meal time therefore forcing them to eat in front of everyone as to not expose themselves and raise suspicions. ( You can not tell me that Steve is not a manipulative little shit. I guarantee you he is)

They’re involved in Self-harm he will do frequent and surprise body and medical checks to make sure they aren’t hurting themselves anyway. 

He’d also do room checks to make sure they don’t have anything to hurt themselves and keep track of the weapons they take on missions, if he lets them on missions

Steve is the type of person that will keep the situation private and will do the best in his abilities to help them but the moment things get to much or go to far he will get professional help involved without their consent 

Unless it starts to affect their work. 

Like if in mission they started purposely jumping in harms way and getting hurt. Then, yeah, not only is he going remove them from mission until they get help and assigned off by doctors but he’s going to tell the others as well.

Behavior like that won’t until get them hurt but jeopardize the mission and put others in danger as well. He won’t go for any of that. 

He would encourage them to get professional help on their own but if they don’t he’ll still ne there to help them. 

For anorexia he would start tracking their eating patterns and nutrients making sure they get them food and nutrients they need. He’d probably even help them get a nutritionist to help. 

For self harm he’s help them find new coping mechanisms to distract them. He’d probably introduce them drawing and art to help. 

At the end of the day Steve will put them in therapy whether it be by force, free will, manipulation they will get therapy one way or another. 

Even with all the help he provides Steve will know at the end of the day he is not a professional and they will need a professional to full recover. 

Steve watched as (Y/n) sat on their bed and drew small patterns all over their thigh using the skin safe markers he got them not to long ago. He had just pulled them from the gym as he saw them pushing themselves too hard again. 

“Hey” he said as he stepped into their room. 

“It was just running, Steve” they immediately went on the defense.

“well I count running until you can barely stand or feel your legs as a form of self-harm. Over exercising, it’s a thing.” 

They sighed capping their pen “ Is there anything else you need father?” “Ah, yes child, I’d like to know what you’d like for dinner.” 

“I don’t know. Something light”

“Something heavy, got it.” he hear them groaned as he turned to leave “ kidding, don’t worry I got you. I won’t force you to choke anything down but I do encourage you to eat more please. Also … room check” 

With that said Steve immediately began to look through their draws for anything he deemed dangerous or had to ability to use to harm ones self. They watched him unnerving as he went through all their things nothing left unturned, unseen, nothing private. 

“I’m trying.” (Y/n) said Steve turned around as he heard their voice crack. He saw they furiously wiping tears. 

“I know you are. And I know it’s hard I’m so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished you’ve come a long way from where we use to be.” 

“I... I got a therapy appointment the day after tomorrow. Going to finally talk to a professional about my fuck up. And tomorrow I’d like to tell the team.” 

No one on the team was aware of their situation and what they had been going through beside Steve, and Bruce although they never actually talked to him about their situation in depth Steve often went to him for medical advice on the situation. No one had noticed and (y/n) had kept there situation very private allowing only Steve to know and help them. But now (Y/n) was ready to open up themselves more to the others not entire but some. 

(Y/n) had been going through recover for a while now with Steve but now they were taking the steps to get more professional help and make sure she doesn’t relapse or fall into should despair again. 

“That’s good. That’s amazing” Steve sat on the edge of the bed a hold of their hand. “ Hey, everything is going to be okay. I’ll hold your hand the whole time. 

I know you don’t like it when I got through your room or check your body but I worry about you. And I feel that it is necessary just to make sure you don’t have an accident and relapse. I just- I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to be healthy, happy, and safe.”

“Yeah , I know” They leaned forward and hugged “ thanks dad” 

Steve laughed at this. 

“Now clean up and put all my shit and get the fuck out of my room” 

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#Thor Odinson #thor #Headcanon #requests #request #anorexia #self harm

[ne-fe-li-bata]

Aye yo CORPSE!  ...

Dead ass;

You can't convince me that Corspe was/is/does ; 

in no particular order..

• Deserve to be held ( I would smother him with my chest and hold him tighter than he has ever been held) & protected from this world

• Pyro! Mans loves🔥🔥🔥 - mostly his fav elemental  (Leo is a fire sign); “WOOO... now that’s a fire!”

•  Loves knives/weapons- has a collection (quite a nifty 1, ay thank-a-you) & even knows how to use butterfly knives/ tackle combat.

      Has a collection of weapons (brass knuckle, daggers, swords, knives,etc.)

•  Highly interested in combat/training. Most likely has training in some sort of combat. Loves any form of physical combat < UFC,MMA, Boxing, any type of martial arts>

•  Absolute proper gentlemen / clearly has the utmost charm/cunning

      I.e holds the door open & will slap yo ass on the way in, moves you away from street side when walking, pulls chairs, defends your honor, etc.

• Takes A . L . O . T  to truly capture his attention- but once you have it ..%100

•  With his person; protective/obsessives/ possessive/ sensual/ affectionate .

              < mine is mine. me no share -like absolutely not at all>

             “ You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for ya“

• RP'er on DeviantArt/chats had his own OC. (also prob had his fav person to RP with) 

         <prob even talked to them in MSN or private chat>

•  Watched mostly nothing by anime/cartoons (nick/CN) as a kid & also mostly watched certain shows/movies as a kid well into his teens

         (could recite quotes/scenes as second nature)

•  Not a major musical theatre type of kid. But musical movies/shows was 1 of his favs- but still highly interested/ in love with theatre/musicals/preforming arts none the less.

-EYES DON’T LIE

•’staring problem’ he’d just stare at you -deep in his head (both good & bad) you’d have to bring him back to you ..”babe- eh, come *snap*back to me. What’s on your mind my love?’

•  Genuinely a really warm person- but only to certain people, but comes across cold & distance 

•  Grew up in the internet & knows the way around the 'business' & 'faceless' YouTubers/celebrities

•  His teens/ late adolescents consisted & grew up on YouTube O.G videos/ video game commentary/content;

  Cry.. <Cry was a huge part of my life & still hold a special place in my heart. Corspe just like I was most likely devastated with the shit that went down> 

Jack

Nova

Sp00n

Jontron

Smosh

Nigahiga

Shane

Jenna

Hanna Hart

Phil/Dan

KevJumba

Ray William Johnson

Pewds

Machinima

EMT

ERB

Wassabi Prod.

VlogBros, 

-etc

• Has an oral fixating (lovebites indefinitely <like dead ass ya’ll be chillan/ out & he’d attack you> & just needs something in his mouth always)

• Fidgety af, always need to be playing with something in his hands/playing with 

•  Is a goddamn absolute certified freak--but also super soft bean boi. (can't stress how this boi needs& deserves to be protected)

• Constant hand/arm touching/stroking for comfort.

• Daddy{papi} / Mommy(mamá) . Master . Sir  kink - hard control kinks- but highly sub. 

hard(er) kinks

• Lovebites = M I N E 

obvs fishnets/ crossbody straps/ lingerie

lace

collars/ restraints 

toys

     •RP

degrading/praising

sub/dom switch

showing/proving your actually/completely & utterly his/ he’s completely & utterly yours..

& of course you know it's go time when 1 - if not both of you has kitty ears on. 

over stim 

*no touchy/ don’t let me go*

“look at what I’ve done to you”

“you kno only I can do this to you”

“look how greedy you are for me”

“look at the mess you’ve made because of me’ 

“cum on my face”/’cum for me”

“who do you belong to” / “you belong to me & only me”

100% all black clothing 🖤

*that once we get home / I swear I’ll deal with you right here, right now* look 

primal play  “when you run from me, it only makes me want you more” “you know imma find you kitten”

pet names (beast< i feel like you call this man “ (a) beast”-he about to lose his absolute fucking mind> , “oh Corpse/______, you absolute fuckin’ beast- my God” kitten, babyboy/girl, baby(e), bae, my love, lover boy, my darling, slut, needy little bitch, cum slut, lil’ whore, master/mistress, king/queen”

“only yours” “just ______” “ no-one but _____” “only____” “only you” 

‘I’ll keep you so no one can find you or bother us’

“that’s my girl” / “that's my boy”

“would you like to/ I saw----”

“look at me” “don’t look away from me”

GROWLING / talking through clenched jaw

not breaking eye contact 

     • his name & ‘Corspe’ being cried out 

“cry out my name for me baby. know who you belong to”

video/sexing/teasing 

breeding kink

voyeurism

abrasions

aftercare af 

impact play 

24/7

edging 

accidental stim; “holy fuck- I’m so turned on by you rn”

rope bondage 

begging 

worships 

•  But also soft kinks; 

MEME SENDING

head on lap/chest

naps

playing with hair 

matching outfits

voice messages 

always touching (somehow)

no space between bodies

picture taking together/ just of you

body rubs, head rubs

massages

competition 

play fighting

“this reminded me of you”

“I remember you said” “I know you...”

“you know I love you”

“I can tell by your eyes”

“ugh- I swear to shit imma marry you 1 day”

“nothing really made sense until you”

“do you wanna watch”/ “WAIT!? YOU HAVEN’T SEEN?!”

“damn- you really do love/like me, eh?”/ “you are SO fucking mine”

“that’s my girl”/ “that's my boy”

pet names/ “MY_______” “YOURS”

long stares

dates- stay at home dates are his fav, as your attention/focus is just on him 

choker/necklace/ jewelry (that 1 of you bought- NOT LIKE HIGH PRICE TAG, but like seen it & was like ‘omg ____ would so wear...’) 

cuddles with movies /anime watching time

just being in the same room/on call- even in silence 

* emojis*- just some sort of communication 

inside jokes/ puns/dark humor

seeing 1 another with kids

future kink (family, travel, etc)

playing video games 

dancing/ singing with 1 another

Sitting on the ground, wrapped around his leg when he streams/edits

Nerf gun fights 

Watching him record (tracks/editing/streaming)

•  Loves- loves surprises <like dead ass would set up a surprise date/ do a scavenger hunt for you/ surprise you with your fav thing>

•  Loyalty is everything & his best attribute (& pride) 

• The music that he make is from the soul/heart. He pit everything has has/what he has left into his art

•  No one has seen the real him - a side he truly hides

•  He's both book & street smart

           Taught himself through YouTube/Reedit/online 

•  Fav actors; Jim Carrey/Robbin Williams/Will Smith (?)

•  Man’s straight up dangerous. we only know like a  quarter of him & people fall at his feet. ( h e . i s . n o t . t o . b e. F U C K E D . w i t h) 

•  Hates silence 

         ( constantly needs background noise)  <also can't fight me on this babyboi cuddles pillows/blankets for night-night time>

•  People don't understand the pain he is in every day, unless they have fibromyalgia/GERD/high functioning (sever social)anxiety/depression/ agoraphobia 

(my mom suffers with fibro/depression <I myself have GERD/ sever social amenity/depression>& I wouldn't wish those illness on my worse enemy...)

• Over all pain has changed him

• Has dealt with self harm since a young age- most likely 9- 11 yrs old. (as someone else who’s suffered with SH for years- when you become so numb it 1 of the only ways to feel some sort of anything/makes you feel like you’re alive)

• Addiction (drugs/people/things)

•  Wrote & read a lot of fanfiction

        (most likely his main source of reading in pre/teenage years)

• Is a hopeless romantic but has his guard way up

•  Obsessed with Japan / Studio Ghibli

• Doesn't think he deserves any of the recognition/ fame he's gotten--but definitely deserves it all as he's creative & inspirational as fuck. Also he’s worked so hard for it & had put himself through so much

    Contrary is highly appreciative of those that are supporting

• Doesn't do it for the fame but for the fact he know how he's gotten people through hard time (just like those on the internet got him through)

• Was a scene boy that vibe’d of myspace/ listens to a lot of  ‘scene’ pop-punk, emo/ scene band shit (band?)

•  Also is/was a major tumblr boy

•  Would be a phenomenal father

•   His love language: physical touch & words of affirmation 

• He would flinch at touch movement but would melt in your hands

• Face caresses would trigger anxiety/ tears.. but once he’s calmed/comfortable would burry his face in your touch. neck & chest

•  Still caught up in daydreams

•  A part of him is still never satisfied even if it’s exactly to the pin point detail of what he wanted  

•  Has at least 40/50(ish) songs he hasn't released

•  Mommy & daddy issues (not saying his home life was really- really  fucked - but non the less- it certainly wasn't the best).. Also wants to protect/provide for his family (especially his sister) & was prob closer to a grandparent/aunt/uncle)

•  Definitely prefers to be by himself, as every time people come around, it's like;‘"this is why I'm okay (ish)with being alone" 

• lost an important person to him due to O.D/ suicided..

•  Also most likely to of heard his "friends" shit talking 'Corpse' or something correlated with him

•  His pride is his biggest sin (next to lust)

•  Has single-handedly defined a huge part of 2020 ( in the best way)

•  Went through a fighting stage where he was ready to fuck anyone up on a drop of a dime (middle/'high school'/street fights- possibly even under ground)

          but also a stage where he cut absolutely everyone off for a solid couple years

•  Most likely obsessed with 1 of 3 creatures; lion, dragon, wolf ( 5ish- possibly bear/fox)

•  Dinosaur obsessed 

• Internet & video games raised him

• He raised himself

Quick to adapt to surroundings/situations.

•  Mighty Morphin Power Rangers was his shit ( I CAN SO SEE YOUNG BABYBOI RUNNIN AROUND THE HOUSE IN A POWER RANGER SUIT) "IT'S MORPHIN' TIME MOTHER FUCKER"

              fav ranger- green 

•  Has up until next year planned out & is working on the next 'version of corpse' ( PR, vids, music, etc)

•  Also med/high key this man was most likely in a physcward (more than once) ..

•  This man deserves more than he'll ever give himself recognition for & knows in the back of his mind--people will hate just to hate

•  Rose is his fav flower  🌹

•⛈️🌧️. >🌞.  Loves storms/ rain & prefers them over sunny days

•  Loves the moon/stars/space (?) < observatorium dates = fuckin mint>

• Pixar/Disney lover

        <still believes- deep down in happy ever after ... but thorough an twisted yet not so twisted- simple(??), dedicated process(?)>

•  Fav Pixar movie.. either Wall.E or Toy Story 

    •  Pixar > Disney

         •  But fav Disney movie- Beauty & the Beast (?)

• Most likely had a Jackass obsession's (doing dumb hoodshit)

•  Fall is his fav season (?)

•  Horror/ thriller movies/shows over everything (obvs)

•   Had an escape place in town where he’d hide from the world- that absolutely no one knew about. 

•  Was really into graffiti/ street art 

•  Arested as a youth - but charges dropped- or was still considered a mirror (either fighting/ possession/ trespassing/ vandalisms)

• Arrested on heavier charges (also same as above - but not tried as an minor)

•  also-ALSO ... thou he feels like he owes people something. HE DOESN’T OWE ANYTHING TO A N Y O N E . His mental & well being is the most important.

•  On a side & major note. You can't deny that this man single handily is a (in my opinion) the 2nd biggest “C” that define 2020.

•  Was most likely really into skateboarding/BMX

• Late night drives/impulsive road trips & playlist/ sitting at lookouts, just in silence & touching 1 another. 

• Clingy af-.. but could also be distance & cold af- especially on high pain days. stormy brain days. PTSD episodes.

• Slow dancing/ dancing around the apartments. with or without music.

• Rocking out with each other- screaming lyrics in each other face.

• “hey baby- how you feelin” 

         *grunting* *shuffles over & lays on chest* 

• Huge comforts for 1 another;

      Especially when going out, being wrapped around him for comfort & reassurance. Even being at home alone together- panic attacks are shit, PTSD episodes are even more shit. helping each other with bathing & caring

     When he’d be hiding from his reflection- or stares just a little too long. Going up behind him & worship him (vise versa)

• He’d be your biggest hypeman/ #1 fan (vise versa)

• Would LOVE you wearing his clothes/jewelry & would love to wear you things.

Was probably engaged to his ex (that's why he gets offt when people mention "corpse wife"

There'd be days where he'd be so distance & cold.. & tell you to leave but wouldn't let you.

He'd sit in the bathroom with you when you shower/have a bath.

As he doesn't sleep most night. He'd be up just watching you sleep & caressing you.

Lil spoon > big spoon.

<more to be added>

I love you... genuinely . turly.  madly. deeply.

#dear cropse #if youre seeing this #i kno youll be okay #im sorry for everything you've had to go through #plz kno #to me #you are my brightest star in a universe of supernovas #you make everything okay for me #till fate do us part #i kno 1 day we'll meet #the universe will bring me to you & you to me

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 6

Title:  I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 6 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 28016 Warnings: Language, internalized homophobia

AO3

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

Present

The week seems to just drag on and on and come Friday, Isak is exhausted. It takes just about everything to get out of bed, his limbs feel all heavy and his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, and overall he feels like he’s coming down with the flu or has the worst hangover of his life.

At least Friday is the only day he doesn’t have morning classes, but even getting up at 9 o’clock instead of 6 doesn’t do a whole lot for him – not when he’s spent the better part of the night tossing and turning because he just can’t seem to fall asleep. At all.

Isak’s always had a bit of tendency to insomnia, something that had gotten severely worse after – well, after. But after a while, when he’d really started to get on with Jonas and was figuring things out with Mahdi and Magnus, it had gotten better. Mind you, there was still the odd night with no more than two hours of sleep, but those were the exception rather than the rule.

Things haven’t been this bad for a while and Isak can feel the anger bubbling away inside of him.

He had been getting better, he was going to be better this year, and now he feels all out of sorts in his own home. He’s terrified of walking around in Oslo or on campus grounds because what if he runs into Mikael, what if he runs into Even – no matter that by studying bio-science he’s in a completely different section of the university, the thought that Even could be within walking distance at any moment in time makes Isak terrified.

Isak stumbles around the flat noisily as he tries to get ready. He splashes water onto his face three times, but it has little effect on waking him up and no effect on getting rid of the slowly turning more prominent dark circles underneath his eyes. The two cups of coffee help a little wake him up, but he also ends up feeling a little sick from drinking too much hot coffee too quickly and too early.

He’s always been organized about his things so it doesn’t take long to gather his books, his notebook – just in case, because mapping out formulas and equations on a laptop can be goddamn awful – his laptop, the charger and stuffed his phone in his pocket, he should be ready to go.

He’s already put on his jacket and a beanie to hide away the atrocious state his hair is in, he should probably be bringing out a scarf soon if the wind is going to be so persistently cold already.

It’s that thought that makes him take one last look around his room. He isn’t even looking for his scarf, isn’t looking for anything in particular, but maybe that’s what sets him off.

Isak’s room isn’t empty. It’s furnished, he has curtains up, posters on the walls; one of the periodic table and another of the atomic structures for alcohol, caffeine and adrenaline drawn with funny faces on them. He has bed sheets and lamps and a bedside table and everything that should make his room feel like a home.

And it just, doesn’t.

It feels like someone has cut Isak’s strings and everything just feels so overwhelming for a second, like that walls are trying to close in on him, this apartment that he three years ago never would’ve thought would need to be a reality, his reality. Because Isak’s reality had been Even and their shitty one room apartment on the fourth floor with no elevator and their tiny kitchen and it had been their life together.

Maybe it’s from his surprise run in with Even or maybe it’s the recent thought he’d had walking through the apartment, how there are personal pictures hung around everywhere but his room, but now the thoughts and the feelings are there and they won’t go away.

All of it has just been building up to this moment and now that it’s finally here it hits Isak like a freight train and all he can do when his knees give out is aim at landing on the bed.

He bounces, once, but it’s enough to make him almost slide down onto the floor. Isak curls his hands into the duvet, scrunching it up and making crease marks that go across the stripes printed on the fabric. He keeps looking around the room frantically, like maybe the next time he looks, something will have changed, something will be different and he’ll be okay.

Because the truth is Isak isn’t dealing with it. He hasn’t been dealing at all for all of these years, and as much as he is constantly running on fumes and denial, it isn’t helping him. Not in the long run, and Isak hates that he can’t continue like this, because as much as he hates the anxiety and the constant stress of worrying, it’s much more preferable to the thought of everyone knowing.

Isak stuffs his wrist into his mouth in reflex to muffle whatever noises threaten to slip out. He can’t remember if it’s always been this hard to breathe.

OOOOO

As much as Isak lets himself struggle when he’s on his own, when he’s in public, no one would be able to tell there’s anything different from this Isak to the one two, three, four and so on weeks ago.

He walks the halls with his back straight and an indifferent look on his face, like nothing in the world could possibly bother him. He pays attention in class and takes notes and tries desperately to look like he actually understands what’s going on, tries so hard to focus in on the words droning on and on and not on anything else. And if people stop to talk to him, he smiles and he laughs and he makes nice all the while ignoring how every single interaction drains him until he’s worried there will be nothing left of him by the end of the day.

While the bigger part of his first year had been a bit of a shit-storm, once he’d gotten on Jonas’ good side it had seemed necessary to fall in line with how he, Mahdi and Magnus had been acting, which meant all the university parties Isak had only been attending to get embarrassingly drunk he was now attending to still get drunk, but under the guise of talking and trying to get with pretty girls.

It had been stupidly easy to imitate the guys, so easy to mimic their body languages, to smile at the girls like he was letting them in on a secret just between the two of them, easy to talk smoothly and slowly gain the reputation of a flirt despite not having kissed a single person.

What wasn’t easy was everything that came after that. Girls wanted to talk to him, but most of the time they wanted a lot more than just talking, and Isak has absolutely no reason to feel guilty about the prospects of getting to hook up, but guilt is a lot easier to handle than the at best indifference and at worst disgust at the thought of having to hook up with girls.

He could explain the guilt away – just gotten out of a serious relationship, he still feels weird about being close to other people, blah, blah, blah – but the other parts? Those were a dead giveaway.

So he makes nice and counts down the minutes until he can go home.

During the last fifteen minutes of a lecture, his phone pings with a message from Sana reminding him about their scheduled study session he honestly had forgotten everything about.

Remember we’re meeting in the library in 20

Isak groans and ignores the dirty looks the people next to him send for interrupting. He gets another text before he can reply.

You did remember, right?

Isak scoffs even though he knows Sana won’t know.

Course I did. See you there

Guess he’s doing this, then. His body feels heavy at the thought alone, so he stops at one of the on-campus cafés and gets two large coffees to go.

“Hey,” Isak greets as he sinks down into the chair across from Sana, bringing out his laptop and debating whether he should get out his book already as well or if they’re probably just going to be browsing the internet.

The internal debate means Isak ends up not realizing the complete silence from the other side of the table before it’s been stretched out long enough to be uncomfortable.

Isak looks up – sure enough, it is Sana, he hasn’t gotten the wrong table, but it’s a Sana who looks like she’s just bit into a lemon the way she’s scowling at him.

“I’m not late,” Isak snaps, because he isn’t.

Sana scowls even harder.

“And I didn’t forget we were meeting.”

He had forgotten.

“You did,” Sana replies. Isak doesn’t even bother looking outraged or protesting because, yeah, he had, sue him. “That’s not my problem.”

Isak has enough problems already, thank you very much. A deep sigh escapes him involuntarily, and he regrets it immediately because all it amounts to is Sana now looking angry as well. “What is your problem, then?”

Sana doesn’t reply. She looks at something past Isak’s shoulder, and Isak almost turns around in his seat to see if he isn’t the problem but someone behind him is – which, honestly, would be a well-needed break clearly brought by the gods above finally looking out for him.

“You need to do something for me.”

Hold the phone, sister. Isak’s hand freezes from where he’d been about to type in his password on his computer. “What?”

Sana rolls her eyes. Isak can only just manage to see it from where she’s now scowling into her book that’s opened on the preface.

“I think it’s called, ‘I need you to do something for me,” Isak points out. “At least, that’s how you ask it when you need a favor from someone.”

Sana shrugs and still doesn’t look up at him. “I said what I said.”

Isak stares incredulously at her. Honestly, what?

Sana sighs long-sufferingly and finally looks up at him. “It’s only because of something Noora said.”

Noora? Isak mentally goes through every single girl he’s ever shared a class with who also probably has shared a class with Sana and comes up with… no one.

“Noora?”

Sana stares at him like he’s the idiot and not the one who apparently has to know every single person in the science department.

“Yes, Noora,” she bites at him. “Friends with Eva and Vilde? Don’t you know her?”

Isak knows a Noora – the possibility along with the probability of it being the same Noora should be quite slim to none. He does remember that Eva has a friend called Noora, but he can’t recall her for the life of him.

“No.”

“Well, Noora is our friend, moving on,” Sana slams her book shut when it’s clear she can’t keep on the pretense of it being more important than what she’s trying to talk about. “You need to –“

“Hold on,” Isak interrupts, holding up a finger to silence her before she gets too far ahead. “Are you asking me for a favor?”

And Sana has just taken another bite of a lemon.

“Because it sounds an awful lot like you’re asking me for a favor.”

“I’m not asking you for a favor,” she makes a face at the word like it has personally offended her. “I’m merely proposing working on a common interest.”

“In which I will be doing all the work and have absolutely no idea about what interest I have in it?” Isak clarifies.

“Common interest,” Sana repeats, leaning back in her chair. Her eyeliner is heavier today than it had been the last time Isak had seen her, and if she’s wearing it for the intimidation factor Isak has got to give it to her that it’s working. “We need you to get Magnus’ head out of his own ass.”

Isak lets out a mix of a surprised whine and an indignant squawk of outrage for someone who has probably only met Magnus a handful of times to talk like that about him.

Sana, being Sana, just fixes a glare at him. “Him and Vilde.”

“What’s wrong with Magnus and Vilde?”

“The fact that they since the start of the second semester have been trying to get together only to cockblock themselves every single time?”

Isak pauses. “How?”

To be honest, he hadn’t even noticed Magnus had been trying to hook up with Vilde. With every single party the boys dragged him to, it always seemed like it was a new girl for all of them except Jonas, who’d dutifully spend the night looking after Eva unless they were smoking.

“All they ever talk about is cats!”

“Cats,” Isak repeats, deadpan.

“Yes,” Sana snaps. “Cats.”

“Are you sure they’re not talking about –“

“Cats.”

“Alright!” Isak holds up the palms of his hands and leans back in his chair to get some space between them. “Again, why?”

“If I knew, do you really think I would be asking for you to interfere?”

Isak came here to study, not be berated about his friend’s life decisions. “You don’t think it could just be a… bonding thing?”

By the look of it, Sana does not particularly look like she thinks it could be a quote unquote, ‘bonding thing’.

“Like, a, ‘hey, do you prefer dogs or cats’, kind of thing?” Isak winces when Sana raises one eyebrow at him. There are weirder conversation-starters and icebreakers – Isak would know. So far he’s never met anyone else whose first conversation involved ISO-settings and a B&E. Without actually breaking anything. An E.

“They’re meowing at each other.”

“Jesus,” only Magnus. Or, apparently, only Magnus and Vilde. Isak rolls his eyes and shakes his head to stop looking at Sana. This really wasn’t what he’d been prepared for when he sat down.

It’s difficult trying to wrap his head around any of this. He’s exhausted to the bone, he’s spent the entire day trying to pay attention and stay busy. Having to suddenly think about woes of love hits a bit too close for Isak not to lose his breath.

Different situation, different people, he tries to keep in mind when he turns back to Sana.

“I don’t know what exactly you expect me to do,” he tells her. “I don’t even know when they’ll be in the same room, let alone talking to each other!”

Sana frowns quizzically at him. “Do you not know about –“

A sudden flurry of movement to Isak’s right startles them both out of their bubble. They both snap their necks to the side so quickly Isak feels a crick already forming from the mild whiplash.

“Hey!” Emma grins. Oh no.

Oh no. Isak’s day is going badly enough already, he does not need this.

‘This’ referring to the first year eagerly waiting for a slice of Isak’s attention to be on her like it’s all that’ll ever matter. She’s practically vibrating where she’s standing next to him, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic about life and Isak doesn’t know how to connect with her, besides the obvious reason.

Emma’s a sweet girl, really. With her journalism major and outgoing personality, she isn’t exactly lacking friends or popularity. She just, apparently, hasn’t gotten the memo that Isak doesn’t stick around, isn’t there for anything serious, and also isn’t there for something not serious.

So now he’s got a lot of unanswered DMs he can’t even bring himself to leave on ‘read’.

Isak’s just staring at her. It actually feels like his mouth has been sewn shut. Isak is usually the one who approaches girls; he doesn’t get approached outside of a party, and now that he has it feels a bit like he’s been thrown into the deep end.

What is he supposed to say?

He only startles out of it when the hardcover of Sana’s book smacks against the tabletop with unneeded force.

“Hey,” Isak tries to smile back. He has a feeling it looks more like a grimace, especially from the way Sana is looking increasingly amused, but Emma doesn’t seem to pay too much attention to it, thankfully.

“You kind of disappeared last time I saw you,” Emma toes an inch closer and Isak has to resist the urge to scoot backwards to maintain the distance between them. She shrugs. “’S a shame.”

Isak doesn’t recall having been anywhere near her, doesn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her.

While he doesn’t know a lot about girls, he does know you do not tell them something like that.

“Yeah,” Isak stutters out instead, shrugging in lieu of an apology. Maybe he can pull off the you know how it is half-assery. “Hopefully you weren’t too disappointed.”

It always leaves a bad taste in his mouth, flirting with anyone, even if he only ever flirts with girls. Maybe that part also contributes to the sour taste that sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Emma giggles, all prettily and Isak thinks he should like her; she’s pretty with the short, brown hair and big, brown eyes. Isak has to bite himself in his cheek when his thoughts try to stray towards blond coifs and blue eyes.

“Maybe you could make it up to me?” She casually puts her hand on the table, only a couple of inches away from where Isak is resting his arm. It would be too obvious to pull away, even if that is all Isak wants to do.

Jesus, that sounds like a line. Isak pointedly ignores the snort Sana attempts to mask as she slides further and further down behind her book and laptop that are propped open in front of her.

“Oh, uh –“ Isak fumbles. He should keep on looking at her, any guy would keep on looking at her. Isak looks around the room to find inspiration for any apology or let down he can give her without it coming back to bite him in the ass. “How would I –“

Emma was clearly just waiting for that opening, even if Isak doesn’t get to finish it. “I heard you’re having a shindig?”

A what?

“I’m having a what?”

Sana snorts again from the other side of the table, but Isak is magnanimous enough to fully ignore her. He repeats to himself that he shouldn’t divert his attention away from Emma, because none of the other boys would’ve done that.

“A shindig,” Emma laughs, reaches her hand out to lay it on his arm and squeezes once. Isak’s arm burns uncomfortably when she pulls her hand away again. “Or your housemates are. It sounded like it was for all of you.”

A what?

“So?” Emma smiles, bats her eyelashes once. “Am I going to have to beg for an invite?”

She takes another step closer. By now she’s close enough that Isak can smell her perfume, it clogs together in his throat, but he barely pays attention to it from how fast his thoughts are racing through his head.

A what?

Emma falters when she see Isak floundering. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” it comes out too weak, so Isak clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’m – I’m great, yeah. Uh, I don’t – I don’t actually know anything about any kind of ‘shindig’.”

It sounds like a lie. It feels like a lie, and it isn’t even one. For once Isak doesn’t have to lie to get out of something, yet it’s also the one time no one seems to believe him. Emma most certainly doesn’t look impressed, and Sana, who isn’t even a part of this conversation, doesn’t really seem to fully believe him either.

“Right,” Emma says. It sounds too clipped and she takes a couple of steps back, putting some distance in-between them. Shit.

Isak tries to grin. “It must be a pretty exclusive party if I can’t even get an invite.” And that also sounds like an excuse.

“Right,” Emma repeats, but it comes out too stiff and a bit clipped. Her arms are folded across her chest and Isak wants to stuff his face into his hands and groan from having to deal with this on top of everything.

He doesn’t.

“What did – where did you hear about it?” he asks instead.

Emma’s looking everywhere but at him. “I just heard it around. Supposed to be the place to be tonight.”

Isak gulps. Shit, that does not sound good. Both in the sense that if this is true, his home will be flooded with drunk students and he’d rather not deal with the aftermath, but also that, if this is true, Isak hasn’t been told about it.

Isak… doesn’t quite know how he’s supposed to feel about that.

“Oh.”

Emma looks uncomfortable, looking down at her shoes she keeps scuffing the toes of around. Isak doesn’t doubt he looks uncomfortable as well.

Whatever Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus are planning aside, Isak can’t spend the night also having to worry about Emma. The way he constantly has to be thinking, is this the right way to behave around her, am I actually pulling it off, does it seem like she likes me, and most importantly, when can he leave.

But he also can’t afford to just turn down a girl without an obvious reason, and right now everyone seems to be on the Emma-boat and Isak is left to drown.

“Why don’t you keep your phone open, then?” Isak tries to grin, but he feels a bit too shaky. It almost feels like he’s coming down with something; cold shivers running through his body and he feels clammy, but he knows he isn’t getting sick.

Emma’s phone starts to buzz in her pocket. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she switches between looking at Isak and fishing the phone out of her coat and check who is calling.

“I’ll text you if I find out about something?”

He sounds too hesitant and Emma doesn’t look convinced either, so Isak pinches a small bit of skin by his wrist in-between two fingertips to pull himself together. It doesn’t hurt as badly as the rest of him does.

“After all, is it really a party if you aren’t there?”

She looks a bit more placated at that, even as most of her attention is on the phone. “Text me later, then. Or next week – we’ll do something. Hello -”

Isak doesn’t get the chance to reply before she’s bounded out of there again, leaving him staring into the air of her vacated space.

A snort sounds from across the table.

“What?” Isak snaps, rolling his shoulders back to try and relieve some tension. “Shit.”

“I’m sure she would’ve taken it much nicer if you’d just let her down easy instead of talk your way around it,” Sana leafs lazily through her book despite that they both know she isn’t looking for anything.

Isak scoffs. “Can’t exactly let her down easy when I don’t even know what she’s talking about, can I?”

Sana stops mid-motion, the page falling down onto its place without her assistance. She blinks once, twice, then looks up at him. “Huh?”

“’Shindig’?” Isak quotes, knocking his arms out. “What the hell is this?”

Sana doesn’t move, doesn’t stop looking at him either. It’s unnerving as all hell and Isak would just like to get some answers, thank you very much.

He doesn’t get any. Sana just shakes her head, closes the book and turns her attention onto the computer. “Take that up with the troublesome trio you live with. Let’s get started!”

OOOOO

Isak hears cupboards banging in the kitchen and he follows the noise until he can see Jonas bent over in front of their chips-and-other-miscellaneous-unhealthy-crap cupboard, riffling through the contents as a note and a pen lie on the counter in front of him.

It used to be so easy. Isak could walk up to Jonas and just say, ‘Hey’ or ask about coursework or football or how Eva is, how are the both of you, all of it seemed so easy.

Now he’s staring at Jonas, mouth snapped shut and no matter how much he begs his body to, it won’t open. He’s screaming the questions in his mind, but no sounds gets out and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this, this panicky anxiety that’s filling his body. Just the thought of actually saying something is making him twitchy.

“Hey!” Jonas smiles when he sees him standing there. “Did you borrow my scarf?”

“Are we having a shindig?” tumbles out of Isak’s mouth before his brain can catch up that he should probably answer Jonas’ question first.

Jonas frowns at the change of topic, but diligently answers him. “Yeah? Didn’t Magnus tell you?” and then realizes what he’s just said.

Jonas squeezes his eyes shut so tightly his nose and cheeks wrinkle from the force of it. “Shit, sorry, man, should’ve just told you myself. It’s been planned for a couple of weeks by now.”

A couple of weeks, holy shit. Isak stuffs his hand into the pocket in his jacket to hide how much he’s shaking. A couple of weeks puts it right before the night, and if Magnus didn’t have a tendency to get distracted already, he definitely would’ve had enough reason to when he ran into his idol.

“Right,” Isak stammers out when Jonas doesn’t seem inclined to give him any more information.

“It’s just a small thing!” Jonas hurries to placate, but that only makes Isak feel worse.

A few weeks ago there wouldn’t have been a need for him to be placated about his friends holding a party. Yeah, he’d be grouchy he wasn’t told, panicky about who’d been invited, but nothing like what he’s feeling now.

“Swear,” Jonas doesn’t pause so he probably hasn’t even noticed Isak’s internal struggle. “Eva and her friends are the only ones who are definitely coming. Although, Eva mentioned that Noora might be bringing someone.”

Eva and her friends, so Sana is coming. If anything, he can just hang up against her all evening with the excuse of getting to know his study-buddy. Something that is so like him and not likely at all to raise questioning eyebrows. Shit.

Jonas scratches the back of his head. “Mahdi’s invited a couple of people from the football team, and I think Magnus has invited some from his media classes. But none of them RSVP’ed, so…”

Jonas shrugs like that’s that, like that means it’ll still just be a small gathering of Eva and her girl power group, when Isak knows that they’re not exactly the generation to ‘RSVP’ and that he himself more than once has crashed an invites-only party, it’s bound to come and bite him in the ass at some point.

Also the fact that people are apparently talking about it like it’s the party of the year doesn’t exactly bode well either.

“Do you want to hit some people up, ask if they can come?” Jonas sounds hesitant. Isak feels so out of place in the doorway to his own goddamn kitchen. He isn’t supposed to be feeling like this. “It’s a bit last minute, but maybe someone is free?”

Isak can’t tell if he’s angling for Isak to invite some girls over, maybe even Emma, but Isak feels sick and uneasy enough already, he doesn’t need the added worry if he looks straight enough.

He shakes his head. “’s all good.” He doesn’t mention there’s no one for him to invite – no one he’d want to come. “Hey,” he clears his throat and points down the hall in the direction of his room. “I’ll go finish some, uh, stuff. Just get me if you need help with anything, yeah?”

Is that an appropriate thing to ask? Should he just barge in and ask directly if there’s anything they need him to do? It’s not that he minds Eva or Sana and he hasn’t really met the three left, but it doesn’t change the fact that this ‘shindig’ that supposedly was for all of them is feeling a lot like it’s only for some of them and Isak is only invited because he lives here.

Jonas nods, something guarded in his eyes that makes it difficult for Isak to swallow. “Yeah. Yeah, man, definitely.”

Isak nods, and then once again when he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. In the end, he just slowly starts to shuffle towards his room, leaving Jonas behind in the kitchen.

OOOOO

“Oi!” Magnus pounds his fist against Isak’s door so harshly it slams up against the wall. “Isak, my bro, my best bro, have I told you recently –“

“I’m not helping you get laid,” Isak groans before rolling onto his stomach, any following dismayed noises muffled when he shoves his head into his pillows.

“Please!” Magnus whines, throwing himself on top of Isak with zero regards to his spine. “I’ll help you!”

Isak snorts, or he would’ve, had he any air to do so.

“Get off of me,” he groans and tries to turn onto his back, but Magnus is stubbornly persistent in not moving until Isak agrees.

“You always know what to say and what to do,” Magnus whines, rolling onto his back until he’s awkwardly planked horizontally across Isak, his back forced into a unnatural arch. “Teach me your ways, I beg of you!”

“Your only bargaining tool was you would help me get laid, yet I’m the only one who knows how to do it?” Isak asks, except his face is smooshed into his pillows and Magnus is honest to god quite heavy, so it comes out a muffled garble of mour mon marg moo mou mel maid mam meon mow moo-hmm.

Magnus stills on top of him.

“Alright, I didn’t understand a word of that.”

Isak folds his arms up underneath his torso and pushes up until Magnus has to roll with it or be pushed onto the floor. Magnus yelps, his arms flailing as he nearly topples over, before he clings onto Isak’s hoodie, holding on for dear life.

“Isn’t this a problem for the crisis window?” Isak grumbles, referring to the nook in the kitchen, the window that’s just long enough that all four of them can sit side by side on the sill that had unintentionally turned into their version of a psychiatrist’s couch – too little room on the couch, and it feels like an invasion of privacy in their rooms. Or just a place to smoke if that’s what they’re in the mood for.

Magnus frowns. “Would you actually move into the kitchen for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then it’s a problem for Isak’s bed!” Magnus moves around a worrying amount.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Isak flops onto his back before Magnus can climb back on top of him, “considering I didn’t even know we were having a party two hours ago.”

Magnus winces apologetically and looks at Isak with those big, sad eyes he knows no one can resist. Manipulative bastard.

“I didn’t mean to forget!” Magnus insist, snuffling closer to Isak in a way that’s probably meant to look like a puppy begging for forgiveness, but just makes it look like he’s stuck. “And I did say I’m sorry.”

Isak sighs and rolls his eyes, but he lets it go. There’s so much else going on in his head, he can’t deal with having to be angry about a missing invite to a party. “Alright, then,” and asks. “Who’d you invite to the party?”

A long list of names bubbles out of Magnus’ mouth, none of which ring a bell, which could both be a blessing and a curse, but then Magnus starts categorizing them after which class they share, which tutorial group, friends before going to university, the lady in the grocery store who, admittedly, had looked a little too old to be interested in a uni party, but Magnus is still holding out hope she’ll actually show up.

Despite rejecting his offer immediately after Magnus had told her about it.

“So what you’re telling me,” Isak interrupts once it becomes clear Magnus is about to go off topic about what he wants to suggest they watch in film club, “is that you want my help with hooking up –“

Magnus nods wildly.

“– when you haven’t invited any girls?”

Magnus stops nodding.

Isak shakes his head. “There’re only so many miracles I can perform in one night, and your requests are starting to increase in size.”

Magnus snorts. “Like the size is what’s stopping you from fulfilling my hopes and dreams.”

Oh, that one’s just too obvious. “Maybe it’s only one miracle we need if the only thing we need is to change the size of your –“

“Hey!”

Isak’s grown up enough to admit the punch to his shoulder was probably well-deserved.

“Asshole,” Magnus grumbles, rolling onto his stomach when he flops around uselessly. Isak honestly can’t tell what he’s trying to do.

Isak should feel worse about kicking Magnus when he’s already down, but there’s a few hours left until the shindig ahem-party-ahem is supposed to start, and Isak had hoped he could spend at least some of them asleep.

So he should probably try to actually help Magnus, then. Jesus, Isak doesn’t have the emotional capacity for this.

“Alright, ignore who is and isn’t coming,” Isak tells him. “You see a girl you like – what do you want?”

He does feel a bit bad when Magnus looks up at him with these big eyes, like he hadn’t thought Isak would actually help him.

Yet he’d still turned to him for help. These damn creative-minded artsy kids – Isak honestly has no idea how their minds work.

“I –“ Magnus hesitates, biting his lip. “I want to say something funny so she’ll laugh.”

Isak nods, that’s a good start. Seem approachable, relatable, try to be funny. Smiles are good when humans want to connect with each other.

“And then, later on, I’d like to press her up against the wall and –“

Isak groans like he’s dying, because he honestly might be. Magnus isn’t even deterred when Isak gets the pillow under his head out and smothers his face in it.

This was not what he’d signed up for.

Although, he probably should’ve been expecting it – Magnus has never been particularly quiet about what he likes, including what he likes in bed, which is what Isak’s currently being painted a lovely picture of.

A lot of leather is involved – a bit surprisingly – a lot of sex in various positions, most seem unbelievably unrealistic – not surprisingly at all – and how good it’ll be.

Something that is surprising is when Magnus doesn’t stop at the end of the night.

“I can’t cook pancakes,” Magnus reminds Isak. “So either one of you guys could do me a favor, or – oh! Maybe she likes cereal! Most people do after all – I could get her my special mix, you know the one where I mix –“

“You want her to stay for breakfast?” Isak interrupts, frowning.

“Yeah?” Magnus looks honestly perplexed. “We’ve just had the most incredible night together, why would I want her to leave?”

“Erh, well, you see –“

“I can’t expect her to stay and not feed her.”

“That wasn’t really the point I was trying to make –“

“Oh! And then, after breakfast, we could go into the city – no, wait! I could take her to breakfast at a café!”

“That definitely isn’t really hook up protocol –“

“Yeah, that’s probably a way better idea. I don’t want to scare her off with my bad cooking!” Magnus is laughing and Isak is grimacing.

“No, yeah, but –“

“And then after we’ve eaten, we could come back here and have sex again. You know I saw this thing in a porno once, where the girl ended up stuffing –“

Gross, gross, gross! Where is the bleach, Isak needs it. Desperately. Goodbye hearing, goodbye brain, there is literally no need for either if he has to spend the rest of his life remembering just exactly what, where, and how much that poor girl had stuffed.

“And in the evening I could take her somewhere nice. There are all sorts of romantic places in the centre of Oslo, right?”

“There are, but –“

“So we could go there and be all cutesy-and-shit,” a description every girl wants their relationship to have, “and then we go swing ‘round her place to get her some clothes. Or! We could just come back here again, and the next day she’d just have to wear something of mine. That’s hot, right?”

“Objectively, it is, but –“

“And I could fall asleep all folded up around her, and make sure she’s warm enough and comfortable. She could fall asleep on my chest – wait, no! We’re spooning – and I’m the big spoon,” he points at Isak like he dares him to disagree with that.

It honestly isn’t the bit Isak has the biggest issue with.

“And the next day we could get ready for the week together. We could do homework together and she could tell me all about her degree and her modules and her essays, and she’d listen to me rambling on about –“ Magnus pauses for a second, like he just remembered it’s Isak’s room he’s in. It doesn’t leave much doubt what he was about to say, but Isak’s frozen in his seat so he doesn’t comment on it when Magnus clears his throat and continues like nothing had happened. “ – and my education, and my work.”

Magnus gasps dramatically with a sudden epiphany, any lingering awkwardness at the near slipup clearly forgotten. “I could show her Even’s movies! Do you think she’ll like them? Oh, I really hope so, because we’re watching all of them. And she could show me her favorite movies – we could do several film nights!”

Isak’s mouth feels too dry. He’s pretty sure his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth permanently now.

“And I would find little pieces of hers all over in my room, like, some clothes lying on the floor, or a hair tie, or a book for class. And I could clear out a drawer for her things, and she could slowly take over everything in my room so I have the drawer I’d originally cleared out for her –“

Isak stills as what Magnus has described registers. His heart beats a little too fast and he feels cold all of the sudden, even as he can feel that his skin is actually rather warm.

It’s all said so matter-of-factly, like Magnus has never experienced the rush of emotions, the giddiness and the excitement and the happiness and the nerves and everything related to falling in love, because that’s what Magnus is describing. Love.

Isak doesn’t have a lot of expertise in the hooking up culture; he’d been so young when he’d met Even, just at the age where his classmates were only starting to gain interest in parties and kissing, so he’d never learnt what it meant, what you had to do and why it was supposedly so fun to participate in.

But what he’d lacked in that area, he’d learnt a lot more in another. And what Magnus is talking about? Isak already knows enough to know that isn’t what you do with a hookup, that’s what you do with a person you’re in a relationship with.

It’s suddenly very difficult for Isak to draw in another breath.

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” Magnus finishes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Really wish I had invited some girls to hook up tonight now –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, a bit clipped. “That’s not what you do when you hook up.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what you do in a relationship.”

Isak’s so terribly thrown off kilter. He’d expected to bluff his way through guiding Magnus into getting a hook up, but now he has to fake not knowing about what Magnus is talking about, because Isak’s done all of that and no one knows. He doesn’t want to share it either, but it’s like something is being ripped from his past that he’d tried so hard to bury, and it’s both painful and makes him feel numb at the same time.

Magnus glares at him, but there’s no fire behind it. “What do you know about relationships?”

Isak feels freezing and boiling hot at the same time. It’s like it takes everything in him to put on a strained smile – luckily, Magnus isn’t looking too closely.

“You basically just described Jonas and Eva, you know that, right? You’re not interested in finding someone to hook up with. You want to find your Eva.”

Magnus hums, rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “Suppose,” and then out of the blue asks, “Is that what you want, too?”

Isak’s skin feels too tight and the laughter that bubbles out of him is too high-pitched, too wrong. “Why do you think that?”

Magnus shrugs. The fabric of his t-shirt snags against the fabric of the duvet, making it look like a weird, awkward shuffle instead. “Like, is Emma your Eva?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, man!” Magnus knocks his arms out. “I just – don’t you think it could be nice? If that isn’t what you get to do with a hook up, then what’s the great thing about it?”

Isak can’t answer, because he doesn’t know the answer. He hates that he doesn’t know the answer, he should’ve figured it out ages ago, yet here he is.

“The freedom,” Isak tells him stiffly, but he tries to make it come out light and excited, like he should be feeling. “You can do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

A knot forms in Magnus’ brows. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

It’s hard to swallow.

“Nah,” Isak leans back so he can look up at his ceiling. The familiarity of it is comforting; the same cracks and patterns as all the other times he’s looked up at it. “Think the other way around gets too crowded.”

Shit, Isak needs to get the conversation moving to somewhere else. He’s going to end up saying or doing something he’ll regret if he doesn’t.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight, though.”

Magnus snorts. “Yeah, going to meet lots of girls to a party where none of us has invited any.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Eva’s coming,” which, maybe don’t bring up a girl who already has a boyfriend – a boyfriend you’re currently sharing a flat with at that, “didn’t Jonas say she was bringing her friends along?”

Magnus lets out a disheartened sigh. “Going by my track record, I don’t think any of Eva’s friends are going to be in my league.”

Alright, that’s any melodrama Isak can handle for the day, he needs to figure something out. If Magnus doesn’t think he has a chance with any of Eva’s friends, then he’s just going to have to –

Eva’s friends.

Sana is one of Eva’s friends. Sana has already mentioned another one of Eva’s friends.

He has an honest-to-god light bulb moment. He might as well pull up a ding to go along with it – Isak’s sure there’s an app for it. There’s an app for everything, nowadays.

“What about the one you’ve spoken to before, then?” Isak tries to ask casually. “What was her name – Mille? Hilde?”

“Vilde?”

“That’s the one!” Isak snaps his fingers, like that’ll make this conversation go faster.

After this, Sana can never claim he’s never done anything for her. This favor extends very, very far.

Except Magnus doesn’t start blabbering on about Vilde. He remains quiet, twiddling his thumbs in circles and carefully avoids looking over at Isak.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I don’t think she really likes me.”

Jesus Christ, Isak is getting a scientific degree for a reason – he doesn’t know how to do this, never learnt how to be confident enough in himself to spread it to his friends.

“Course she likes you. Why wouldn’t she?”

Magnus shrugs again, but he doesn’t add anything to it. So it’s actually serious, then, if Magnus doesn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s just –“ Magnus sighs. “Nothing seems natural. I always seem to say the wrong thing and – I don’t know. Shouldn’t it feel easier, somehow?”

Isak doesn’t feel like he’s in his room, on his bed, talking to Magnus. He can vaguely see his desk and his books, but it feels like it might be in a dream and he’s only seeing what his brain is creating for him to see.

“Falling in love should be easy – that’s what all the movies make it seem like. The pain usually comes after, once something has gone wrong, not during.”

Panic is sizzling away underneath his skin and Isak both simultaneously wants to get up and run away and stay here and get under the covers to hide away from the world.

“Shouldn’t it feel like a whirlwind from the start? Completely crazy and all-empowering and all you can think about?”

He’s tired. He’s tired of trying and constantly failing, because this was supposed to be his year, yet all he’s done is manage to fuck everything up. He was supposed to make it work with the guys, both by being a better friend, but also figuring out how to be a good flatmate, but so far he’s managed to scare them so badly they’re constantly walking on eggshells around him and Isak doesn’t know how to feel at home in his own apartment in fear that they’ll say one thing, one thing, and they’ll figure it out.

“Like you’d do anything to be with them, to be near them. You’d do anything to make them smile and you want the best for them. I think that’s what I really want the most out of anything.”

It’s stupid to think it, but the thought still somehow sneaks in, because what if that is the reason Magnus is talking about this? So many things just hitting a little too close to home, how easy it was to fall in love with someone, how overly encompassing it was, all the emotions and how it seemed worth it that it might bring pain, because it had also brought love. Isak has spent so long trying to forget all of that.

It’s what makes him finally snap, because he needs for Magnus to shut up. “If what you want is a relationship, maybe go talk to the Casanova, instead.”

“But Isak,” Magnus replies in a sing-song voice. “You’re the Casanova. Jonas would be, I don’t know – Romeo or something.”

It makes the anger swirling in his stomach boil over until it spews out everywhere. There are so many things Isak has spent ages avoiding getting near or getting into conversations about, and now he feels like tearing out his own hair and screaming and crying and he wants to hurt someone, anyone. One person.

“Get the fuck out of here with that shit.”

He sounds furious, voice dripping with venom and it’s surprising Magnus doesn’t pick up on it.

“So Emma isn’t going to be your Juliet, then?” Magnus nudges him playfully, but too many of Isak’s red flags have been prodded at and he can’t take it anymore.

“Absolutely not.” It comes out too harshly. “And I really can’t help you if what you want is some fairytale meet-cute, go talk to Jonas.”

“But isn’t that what everyone wants? Isn’t that the point of going out and meeting people, to see if you find someone worth sticking around and hurting for?”

Isak laughs. It sounds mean. “It really isn’t what everyone wants.”

Magnus is looking a bit confounded, what with the way he’s frowning at Isak with furrowed eyebrows, biting his bottom lip as if he’s contemplating something. “What about you, then?”

There might be a bit too much contempt in Isak’s voice when he tells him, “I have no interest in Romeo and Juliet whatsoever.”

OOOOO

The bass is pumping from the speakers and Isak can barely hear his own thoughts from where they’re being drowned out by the music. There are people all around him, talking, screaming, dancing, making out, taking shots. This is what uni is supposed to be about and Isak can figure out how to fit in, even if he isn’t going to be drinking excessively throughout the night.

It all feels a bit foreign, and it shouldn’t, because this is what Isak’s entire first semester of university had been about; booze and blunts and the noise, because that had seemed to be the only things that made his head quiet and body numb. Maybe it’s just the lack of alcohol swimming around in his body that makes Isak feel like a fish out of water.

At least it’s much less of a party-of-the-year and more in the likes of a pregame. Isak’s already heard several people talking about finding a club somewhere after, so he just has to hold on a few more hours.

A few people shout his name as he makes his way past them. They’re all grinning and raises they various drinks, cans and bottles at him in greeting, probably inviting him to come join them.

Isak nods a greeting, but doesn’t make his way closer. He doesn’t recognize any of them, figures they’re probably some of the blurry person-shaped edges he has in his memories of those nights back during first semester.

“Hey, man,” Jonas comes up to him from behind. He’s looking at Isak like he has to be careful of something, and it isn’t helping with whatever dangerous cocktail of emotions currently swishing around in Isak’s body.

Isak raises an eyebrow and tries to tease, “Bit of a ‘shindig’, huh?”

Jonas winces and looks at him apologetically. “Yeah, things may have gotten a bit out of hand.” And as much as Isak hates that the boys didn’t tell him, he hates this more – this, this guarded carefulness they all have whenever they’re speaking to him. It’s driving him insane and makes him want to scream, but that would only serve to make them worse.

So he tries to laugh and ignores the tightness in stomach. “There’s no problem. This is fun, right?”

Jonas doesn’t look convinced, but Isak doesn’t know how to convince him anymore.

Usually, he would’ve flung his arm around Jonas’ shoulders and shouted too loudly in his ear, ‘let’s go do some shots!’ and that would’ve been it, but he doesn’t do that anymore – drink heavily, or the other bit, actually, come to mind, because Jonas constantly looks guarded around Isak, and Isak can’t tell if that means he wants him close or he doesn’t want him close.

He doesn’t have to worry about it for long, because the front door bangs open when Eva lets herself in.

Jonas lights up like he always does when he sees her, and she sashays her way over to him to kiss him hello. And then some. Isak ignores the pang in his heart at the sight and looks over to the side of them to look at the rest of the gang.

Sana rolls her eyes when he nods at her, so of course he has to roll his eyes back. It’s basically their thing by now, as much as they both seem to hate it.

“Halla,” she greets. “Found out about the ‘shindig’, then?”

Isak feels short of breath, but it’s still easy to put the mask on, grin and pretend like everything’s okay. “Little less than two hours ago, actually,” and tries not to sound self-deprecating or like there’s something wrong.

He doesn’t pull it off. Sana’s frowning – when isn’t she, but all her attention is on Isak, which it usually isn’t, because that isn’t normal.

And he can’t have her say anything, he doesn’t know what he would reply, what would be appropriate and what wouldn’t, what could be worked as a joke and what would just give him away. “Worked wonders for not having to set anything up, though.”

She snorts and takes a step back, going further into the apartment. “Knew you were a slacker the moment I met you.”

“Hey!” Isak protests, whines a bit, but Sana doesn’t wait around to hear whatever defense he could manage to pull up, disappearing into the kitchen with the girl who never stops giving Isak bedroom eyes – Chris, he thinks.

An arm slings around Isak’s shoulder, the smell of beer more pungent than the smell of weed – Magnus, then.

“What the fuck?” Magnus points over at Jonas and Eva who are locked at the lips and oblivious to the world around them. “Is this allowed?”

“Stop,” Jonas breaks away long enough to groan, but Eva’s quick to cup his jaw and draw him back in.

Vilde’s standing next to them by now, and it looks like she’s only giggling politely with little clue to the context of Magnus’ comment, but Magnus’ is grinning back like he’s just won the lottery.

Usually, Isak would at least try and be a good mate and play up whatever had just been said, make it funnier than it actually was without drawing the attention onto himself, but his head had barely been in the game when the party had started, it definitely isn’t when the supposed Noora and her plus one enter their flat.

Because Isak knows that plus one.

“Now the party can sta-ha-ha-art!”

Isak knows that voice.

Isak knows that voice.

Eskild is dressed as loudly as his voice – neon pink and, oh god, are those feathers? – and crazy sunglasses that most likely don’t work if Eskild can stand wearing them inside.

“Ho-ly mother of God,” Magnus breathes out, eyes wide as he stares at Eskild. “Who on earth is –“

“Isak!”

Isak doesn’t even have time to wince from his name being bellowed straight into his ear before he has an armful of Eskild clinging onto him and shaking him around as he hugs him – or squeezes the life out of him.

“What are you doing here?” Isak’s voice is muffled from where his mouth is pressed against Eskild’s shoulder. At least Eskild’s close enough to be able to make it out anyway.

“Noora brought me!” Eskild steps back, but doesn’t let go of the arm he has slung around Isak’s shoulders. He points over to the blonde girl standing next to Sana.

“But – but –“ seriously, Isak’s mind is melted. “But that’s Eva’s Noora.”

Things do not compute.

“Are you telling me,” Isak continues, magnanimously ignoring Eskild’s snort, “that Eva’s Noora is also your Noora?”

“Technically, my Noora is also Eva’s Noora, because I had her first,” Eskild insists indignantly, pointing accusingly over at Eva who only rolls her eyes fondly, skips on close to fold her arms around Eskild’s side. “She’s just lucky she’s cool enough for me to hang out around her as well.”

“Yes, of course, darling, that’s why,” Eva laughs and then bounds on into the kitchen to get something to drink.

“But –“ Isak’s worlds are collapsing. He – but – what?

Eskild barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, that face is excuse enough for ghosting me the past couple of weeks.”

“I haven’t ghosted you,” Isak tries to protest, but Eskild doesn’t let him. It’d be a lie, anyway, kind of. He just – Eskild will know, because that’s what Eskild does, and Isak can’t – he can’t have people he cares about worrying about him again, can’t let them know that their faith in him is wasted. He can’t lose everything else too.

He finally catches sight of Magnus and Jonas out of the corner of his eye, both of them looking frantically between Isak, Eskild, and then finally over to Eva and Noora for some type of explanation.

“Oh, uh –“ Isak wracks his brain for the words that seem to be evading him. “Gutter, this is Eskild – Eskild, this is –“

Eskild holds up his hand in front of Isak’s face, startling him badly enough that he stops talking. Isak blinks confusedly.

Eskild narrows his eyes as he stares at Jonas and Magnus. Jonas and Magnus’ eyes, in turn, widen at the scrutinizing glare they’re currently on the receiving end of. Isak’s been in their place before, when he’d sneak out to see Even and come back in the early morning to Eskild hiding his worry behind reprimanding scolding and demands that he leave his GPS on next time he wants to go out ‘partying’.

Isak doubts Eskild ever thought he was out partying, mostly because he never came back hung over or drunk still, and he didn’t reek of booze, no more than the beer or weed Even would share with him on rare occasions. But it’s not like Isak could tell him what he was actually doing, and it’s also not like it was outside the realm of possibility considering how Isak and Eskild first met.

“Don’t tell me,” Eskild removes his hand from Isak’s face to point between Jonas and Magnus. “Are they the ones you left me for?”

Isak blinks, again. Magnus still can’t get his eyes off of Eskild, but Jonas is looking decisively more worried in Isak’s direction.

Isak sighs when Eskild keeps pointing. “I didn’t leave you –“

“Aha!”

Magnus jumps a foot into the air and nearly trips of the doorstep leading into the living room. He bumps into one of Mahdi’s jock friends instead, who in turn spills beer all over the floor. Great.

“So they are the ones you left me for!” Eskild finishes, not the slightest bit perturbed over the chain of events he’d just put in motion.

“What are you even, they – no,” Isak flaps his hands about, resorting to poking Eskild’s shoulder when he looks less and less inclined to believe him. “This is Jonas and Magnus, whom I’ve only been living with along with Mahdi for less than a month, and you know this, because I told you this back in July.”

Eskild mulls it over, still glaring at Jonas and Magnus, apparently to Noora and Eva’s amusement, but whatever he finds can’t be too bad when he immediately switches over to a blinding smile and introduces himself to them properly.

Isak hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, nearly still doesn’t until it all comes rushing out of him and he suddenly feels a little weak in the knees.

“How d’you know Isak, then?” Jonas asks, sounding more polite than terrified, which is more than what Magnus is managing to do.

Eskild opens his mouth, ready to launch into the tale of woe of how the two of them had met, and Eskild playing the part of the hero and taking in the lost duckling wandering the streets, drunk and completely out of his mind.

It’s not like it’s something Isak’s ashamed about, and he knows Eskild would never tell anyone about the part where he’d apparently begged him not to make him go home, but Isak –

Isak’s entire life is built on lies upon lies – lie about your mom not feeling well, she’s fine, she’s just stressed, don’t tell anyone you’re gay, don’t tell anyone about Even, and on, and on, and on, and somewhere along the way, Isak’s sort of forgotten how to share any parts of himself that aren’t just on the surface.

So he cuts in right as Eskild gets out how it was a cold, dark night – which isn’t true, because it was spring, so it was at most chilly – and says, “I used to live with him in a Kollektiv, back before uni.”

Magnus’ eyes widen impossibly further. “Shit, you’d already moved out in high school?”

Isak shrugs, ignores the feeling of Eskild’s eyes on him, considering how he was technically barely in high school by the time he moved in, and ignores how incredulous the looks he’s given from the people who don’t know the story make his stomach feels like it’s turned to lead, or maybe the opposite, like it’s so light he might be sick.

Eskild saves him. Eskild always saves him, and it doesn’t make his stomach feel any less like it’s filled with lead when Isak thinks of how he has been blowing him off and ghosting him.

“And then he left me. Depraving me of my son –“

“Fuck off –“

“My only son –“

“And I didn’t leave you –“

“Herre Gud,” Noora laughs. “How dramatic were you when I left for Spain, then?”

Noora is a goddamn savior and Isak will go down fighting for her. He can’t help the wince, though, because he knows, and he’s fairly certain that Noora knows too, just how much Eskild can talk once he gets going, and nothing can get him going more than Noora literally fleeing the country.

He physically takes a step back, and whilst Magnus is still looking incredibly confused, Jonas is now looking mildly concerned, and Noora, bless the girl, is trying her best to keep face.

Eskild narrows his eyes. “If you take away the ‘s’ in Spain, what are you left with?”

Isak frowns. Judging by the put-upon look on Noora’s face, this isn’t the first time she’s heard this.

“Pain,” she sighs.

“No,” Eskild sasses. “You’re left with me, in Oslo, where I’ve been abandoned.” Pauses dramatically. “And the only feeling I was able to feel when you abandoned me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Isak groans, pinching at Eskild’s side to get him to let go of him, then flays his hands around in everyone’s direction. “Kitchen’s that way, living room’s the other, do not have sex in my room, Eskild.”

“Why am I being singled out?”

Isak doesn’t deign to answer, just levels Eskild with a look until Eskild nods, goes, “fair enough,” and giggles with Eva.

God, Isak wants a drink. He wants many drinks, but the thought of having more than the one beer he’s been nursing so far makes him feel a bit ill, so he heads into the living room instead of the kitchen.

He doesn’t know why it’s so difficult. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t know why the thought of standing near Eskild makes him feel so anxious, why he feels angry when he sees Eskild laughing with Eva or Noora, why he can’t be at ease just like them. Guilt and shame mixes uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He plasters on a grin when four guys recognize him, cheering and waving their beers at him.

He doesn’t walk over to them. He’s fairly certain they’re in some of Jonas’ classes, but he’s not certain enough he’s willing to chance making a fool of himself. He feels like he’s slowly creeping out of his own skin, like he’s inches from falling apart. It’s exhausting. Isak’s exhausted. And the apartment’s in a tip and he can feel a headache coming on from the music, and he doesn’t know when he became this person.

Or – he does, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

This is better, Isak tries to convince himself. If it isn’t better than – than that, then it’s at least better than when he was drinking himself into oblivion any waking hour, when he was drinking so much he’d wake up still drunk and then just start drinking again. The fact that he came away without having to get his stomach pumped even once is more of a miracle than Isak thinks anyone will ever get to experience.

There’s a movie playing on the television, the same one they’ve had streaming pretty much since it was released. It’s one of Even’s. Somehow, Isak doesn’t know why, but somehow Magnus always manages to talk them all into giving him TV-rights to choose what will be playing, and it’s always one of Even’s movies.

This time it’s ‘Circles’, Even’s newest one that Isak hadn’t been strong enough to not watch it in the middle of the night about a week after you’d been able to stream it. The recommendation taunting him whenever he’d wanted to relax until he’d caved. But he’d been strong enough to not check out any of the reviews for it. Except then Magnus had ended up yelling how it’s been nominated for an award, but Isak still counts it as a personal win that he hadn’t looked it up himself. Baby steps. Just enough to fool himself into believing he’s getting better.

Maybe if he fools himself long enough he’ll actually start to believe it.

At least either the volume is too low for Isak to hear any of it, or everyone around him is too loud for Isak to hear any of it.

He finally makes his way over to the window. He wants to crack it open, but he knows that’s a bad idea. They’re bound to get a noise complaint sooner or later, opening the window would only make it much sooner.

Maybe he should open the window. He can see Jonas and Eva’s reflections in window, can hear Magnus’ laughter from another room, can see a glimpse of Mahdi chatting up some girl Isak doesn’t recognize. He scowls at all of them, feels something ugly swirl around in his stomach.

No. No, he reminds himself, presses his face against the glass pane, shivering at the cold shock it brings. They’re his friends – his best friends – and just because this year, the year that was supposed to be Isak’s year, has gotten off with a bit of a bad start doesn’t mean Isak can take it out on his best friends. It’s not their faults Isak’s such a fuck up.

Besides, it’s not like it’s too late, really. Surely if Isak just tried harder, things would go back to normal. Better than normal, even, because that had been Isak’s goal when he moved all his stuff into the room at the end of the hall, put on his blue-striped bed sheets and listened to Magnus waxing poetry about some sex dream he’d had and Jonas and Mahdi taking the piss out of him.

It’s not just the boys, though, is the thing. Isak knows he’s been shitty to Eskild too. He can hear him out in the kitchen, laughing and chanting chug, chug, chug and generally encouraging a mess Isak’s bound to be the one cleaning up later.

This is the year he’s supposed to get things right, to stop feeling so wrong all the goddamn time, and that’s not going to happen if he’s sulking in a corner the entire night.

He’s just got to get better at acting, Isak convinces himself. Squares his shoulders, straightens his back, and just breathes.

If he gets better at acting, then the boys will stop acting so awkward around him. They’ll stop walking on eggshells and they’ll stop looking at Isak like he’s a stranger in their house.

He walks away from the window, hand clutching his beer bottle. He’s shaking and his palm feels clammy from sweat. He really hopes it isn’t noticeable, any of it. Not just the shaking and the sweating.

“Isak!” A hand clamps down onto his shoulder so harshly it jostles Isak’s forwards until he nearly falls flat on his face. “Jesus, how much you had to drink?”

Isak turns to see some guy, one of Mahdi’s football friends by the looks of it, going off of the build and the muscles.

Isak tries to grin as he worms his way out from under the guy’s hand until he’s facing him. “Not nearly enough.”

The guy cheers and holds up his own cup of brown sludge that Isak doesn’t particularly want to witness him downing.

He’s lucky for once. Football-guy gets distracted when a girl accidentally puffs to him when she passes. He spends approximately fifteen seconds staring at her ass as she continues on her way, all of which Isak spends judging him.

“How you been, man?” the guy tries again. “Haven’t seen you since that party at Mikael’s.”

Something lurches through Isak’s body, cold dread that he has to fight to clamber down into nothing he’ll accidentally give away. He should open his mouth, he’s about to – should say Oh, yeah, wasn’t feeling well, and then immediately follow it up by a question that’ll give the guy talking.

Except he’s saved from having to do any of that.

“Who is Mikael?” Eskild slithers up from behind Isak. He tries his best not to jump or tense up, because it’s Eskild and there’s no reason for him to be tense. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. It’s all stupid. “And why have I not been introduced to him?”

Isak still tenses at the touch, but it’s Eskild, so Isak tries to not make it too obvious.

“Magnus’ friend,” Isak has to twist his head to the side so he’s nearly shouting directly into Eskild’s ear. “I don’t really know him.”

Present tense, because Mikael might’ve changed. He might not make the same kind of jokes or like the same action movies with far too many explosions for them to be contributing to any kind of storyline anymore. He might not like a cool glass of saft when he comes home or to lounge around outside when the weather’s nice anymore. He might not even be in contact with Even anymore and the party had just been a one-off.

“Oh. By the way, Mahdi told me to give you this and to tell you to stop leaving it around everywhere,” Eskild sounds bored as he hands over Isak’s hoodie.

Isak’s heart feels like it’s stuck in his throat when he grabs on to it.

“Can’t believe you’ve still got it, it’s so old.” Eskild turns his attention onto the jock instead. “And who might you be, then?”

Isak rolls his eyes so hard he actually misses the introduction. He tunes back in when Eskild lingers in the handshake and the guy is grinning nervously, switching between looking at Isak and looking at Eskild.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” the guy says when Eskild has buggered off somewhere else, even as he had walked away while looking over his shoulder on too many times for it to be anything other than intentional.

Fear flashes through him. Half of the sip of beer splutters out of Isak’s mouth while the other half blocks his airways until Isak is coughing and red-faced and looking incredibly unattractive.

“Eskild?” Isak grimaces. “No. No, no, no. Definitely not my boyfriend.” Shit, does that sound like he’s denying it too much, thus reversing the intention and effect of a denial?

Why would he even be asking that? Is it only because of Eskild or has Isak done something that would warrant – Shit, Isak can’t think about it now, he’s at the middle of a party in his own home, he can’t leave.

“Oh,” the guy looks taken aback, even as his eyes wander off towards the direction Eskild had disappeared in. Oh, indeed. “There’s nothing going on between –“

“He’s my old roommate,” Isak cuts in, and says with a finality that hopefully sticks, “that’s it.”

“Oh,” the guy repeats. He isn’t even looking at Isak anymore. “Do you mind then if I –“

“Go for it,” Isak slaps him on the back, steps around him and gets the hell out of dodge. Jesus, has he unintentionally become the designated matchmaker? A lot of people seemingly have a lot of faith in him for that particular job, despite Isak having zero interest in most people.

The flat is a mess already and the party has only been going for about an hour. There are empty cans and bottles on every flat surface and Isak shouldn’t, he shouldn’t start cleaning. He should be mingling and helping Magnus hook up with someone and rip into him with Mahdi and Jonas when he starts asking the wrong question. He shouldn’t be isolating himself by cleaning.

Isak sighs, deep and long-sufferingly, and grabs a clear plastic bag from the cabinet and starts collecting the cans, avoiding any he can feel liquid still swishing around in the bottom. The metal clanks against each other in a way Isak more so feels than hears over the music pounding in the entire flat. They’re going to get noise complaints, for sure. Isak has no idea how the guys had thought this would ever have been a good idea.

Except, had they asked him those weeks ago if he wanted to help host a party, Isak probably would’ve agreed to it. He would’ve been keyed up and he would’ve participated, and he would’ve been drinking properly instead of how he’s been nursing his single bottle of beer for the entire night before he’d finally given up after a few sips.

He doesn’t know how he’s come to feel like this, doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to be drinking excessively, that this was the year he was going to actually try and succeed. So far it’s only felt like one failure right after the other.

He hasn’t become a better friend. Instead, they’re all tip-toeing around him because they’re too afraid when he’s going to snap and run off again. The need to run is constant, but Isak has a feeling that the snap will be happening because of something else entirely if the boys don’t cut it out.

He hasn’t become a better student – he’s barely understood half of the lectures and he’s less than impressed with the homework he’s been doing. Sana’s going to kill him if he doesn’t get his act together soon.

Failure after failure. But the not drinking part, that Isak can gain control over, or so he hopes. Maybe he doesn’t fully trust himself, hence why he hadn’t dared more than the beer.

There’s a couple making out up against the wall next to their front door that’s open and has more people spilling in. They all clap Isak’s back when they pass him, seemingly knowing him because they all shout out his name in greeting. Isak doesn’t recall meeting any of them ever, and wonders if it’s because he’s just inattentive to anyone he doesn’t think of as his friend, or if he’s actually met these people and just can’t remember them because all they’d been was a means to get drunk.

“How are things looking?” someone, Sana, yells into his ear.

Isak stumbles back, startled, but it just turns to annoyance when he sees Sana looking way too smug. He opens his mouth to tell her off, but she seems to be able to predict what he’s about to say so she just rolls her eyes and interrupts him.

“With the plan.”

Isak groans. The plan. The plan he was supposed to have but most definitely doesn’t.

“I tried!” He hadn’t. “It’s just that –“

Oh god, one of Sana’s eyebrows arch up into her forehead. Shit, Isak’s in trouble.

“Last I checked,” she drawls, actually drawls, “I haven’t seen you near Magnus, and you didn’t even say hi to Vilde when she came in.”

The most amount of trouble. Sana levels a very unimpressed look at him.

And Isak doesn’t have a single excuse.

To be fair, the Eskild-thing had kind of distracted him quite a bit, but he doubts Sana has the empathy required to let him get away with such a statement, so Isak doesn’t even bother.

“Magnus is in the kitchen, go.” Sana pushes him along the way, making him stumble over the floor.

He turns around to level a glare at her, but she’s managed to disappear before he can, and then when he turns around again to head into the kitchen, he nearly runs over Vilde in the process.

“Fy faen, Vilde!” he exclaims, reaches out to grab onto her shoulders to steady her, even as he hadn’t actually touched her. “Shit. You can’t just stand behind –”

Vilde’s frowning at him. “Why does Emma Larzen think she’s welcome here?” she asks in lieu of a proper reply or greeting. “Isn’t she a first year?”

The dread isn’t a welcome feeling. It’s chilling and hot at the same time, and Isak feels clammy and disgusting as his heart picks up its speed and he glances around the room, whatever of the hallway, frantically, but trying to downplay it so Vilde doesn’t question him about it.

“Is she here?” he manages to get out.

“No. But she DM’ed me, asking for your address and said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Isak wants to groan, wants to throw his head back. Wants to kick all of these people out.

He wants to go to bed and sleep for an eternity, or maybe just go to sleep and never wake up, but that’s a bit too gloomy for his own taste, so he ignores that stray urge.

“Just –“ he tries to think of something that wouldn’t seem odd. “Just ignore her.”

That just makes Vilde frown further. “I can’t just ignore her,” she protests. “I’ve already read her message. I can’t just leave her on ‘read’.”

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Isak side-steps her and heads for the kitchen. Jesus, this isn’t going very well, but it’ll be easier to finagle Magnus into doing his bidding than it would be Vilde, Isak is fairly sure.

Unless Jonas is there. Or Mahdi. Then everything will be downright impossible and Isak will sue Sana.

Both Jonas and Mahdi are in the kitchen, and they’re both talking to Magnus, as if they can’t stand in group formation literally any other time during the day, because it’s not like they live together or anything. Fuck, this is going to take a lot more effort than Isak had originally imagined.

Mahdi is the one who spots him first. He looks annoyed, but not at Isak at least.

It’s not helpful enough to not make Isak feel horribly out of place, though.

He shuffles closer at Mahdi’s beckon just in time to hear Magnus blurt out some nonsense that doesn’t make sense out of context, something about word just spreading.

“It’s a lot more people than we’d agreed on,” Mahdi fills him in once he’s close enough. He looks at Isak like he expects him to back him up, which – alright Isak isn’t thrilled either, but he wouldn’t have been thrilled with half the people who’ve shown up either. He wonders when that happened; when did he become the grumpy friend who just wants to stay in and be alone? And why can’t he shake himself out of that funk?

Jonas is frowning, eyebrows curling and filling most of his forehead. “Alright, so it’s a couple more people than anticipated, but – why are you so mad? You’re usually pretty chill about everything –” and shuts up at whatever face Mahdi makes at him. Isak elects to ignore it, though, as he’s fairly certain Mahdi was gesturing to him.

Jonas does have a point, though, but Mahdi is also the first one to give any of them shit for messing up. Isak is definitely willing to count the group of girls giggling about a spilled vodka bottle a mess-up.

“What happens if we get a noise complaint, huh? If our landlord sees this mess, we’re fucked. We’re never getting that deposit back.”

Magnus snorts. “We weren’t getting that back anyway – remember the incident when we moved in?”

“We agreed not to mention that ever again,” Mahdi glares at him.

“Hey, I covered that up fantastically, thank you very much. We could’ve at least fooled him into giving the money back,” Isak protests, magnanimously ignoring Jonas snorting about handyman Isak, which had been a nickname Isak had worked extremely hard to get rid of. “Why don’t we – let’s just start cleaning, alright?”

Shit, he hadn’t meant to sound so tired. Jonas is giving him ‘the eyes’ again and Magnus is looking at him oddly for no going bigger on the ‘I told you so’ he’s never been shy at shoving in their faces. God, how did Isak manage to fuck up twice in one sentence?

“Isak –“ Jonas starts, but Isak doesn’t let him finish. Doesn’t want for him to.

“I’ll start getting rid of the cans. Just –“ he turns to Mahdi, “relax, alright? We’ll fix it,” and then hurries to get out of there before one of them can grab a hold of him.

It’s surprisingly easy enough to ignore the feeling of his heart being wrenched out of chest and the insurmountable panic and worries looming over his head when the music really is so damn loud and there are so many people within the enclosed space. Isak has to push over a couple making out in front of the built-in closet where they keep the cleaning supplies and the clear bin bags, and the soundtrack of lips smacking together disgustingly shouldn’t overpower the sound of the stereo, but somehow it does.

They shuffle over willingly enough, at least, probably barely noticing they’re being moved if Isak’s being honest with himself.

And whilst he’s being honest with himself, Isak knows Mahdi’s issue isn’t the party or how many people have shown up or how much a pigsty their flat is currently in, or whether or not they’ll get back that stupid deposit that wasn’t that much in the first place. No, Mahdi never would’ve even noticed all those things if it had been any other evening before the party at Mikael’s, before Isak started acting weird, because Mahdi would’ve been in the bathroom or his own room smoking from his stash and making friends and probably figuring out which girl he’d want to kiss at the end of the night.

What Mahdi’s issue is, is Isak. And Isak hates that feeling clawing at his chest at the thought. Hates that he knows that’s what this is about, that the boys can’t even be subtle enough to hide it.

It’s not even the fact that the only reason Isak isn’t being interrogated by them is because of how much he apparently scared them with his disappearing act that’s bothering Isak. Or that they’ve supposedly been so focused on Isak and whatever the hell his problem is that they’re walking on eggshells around him, yet he was still so forgettable they didn’t even mention they were throwing a party that he not only was to attend but also invite people to join. It’s not the guilty, pitying glances they keep throwing him, and the halfhearted explanations and apologies that won’t stop no matter how many times Isak insists, “it’s fine, just an honest mistake, don’t worry about it, we’re good, I’m fine.” It’s not that he’s entirely unable to sleep anymore, just tossing and turning in his bed instead until he slips into a fitful slumber in the wee hours of the morning until his alarm wakes him up.

Or maybe it’s all of those things. Because what’s bothering Isak is how he can’t get this to quiet down.

Not the party. Parties are always loud, and this one is no exception. He doesn’t need people around him to stop talking, because lord knows the guys are already filtering out most of their sentences and conversation just to not accidentally say the wrong thing. It’s inside his head he can’t get things to shut the hell up.

He rips two bags off before figuring he probably won’t keep at it for long enough to fill them up, and then stuffs everything back in the closet. There’re already plenty cans and bottles lining every single flat surface, so it’s easy enough to pick up two empty cans and make his way back into the kitchen to make sure they’re fully drained.

Mahdi isn’t there when he gets back. Both Jonas and Magnus are still there, but Magnus is talking to someone Isak doesn’t know, and Jonas has Eva pressed up against the wall. Isak has a foreign twinge to go over there and so something stupid like, right in front of my salad?, because that’s something he would’ve done – has done, back when they were moving in and Eva was helping out, because who’d know how the place would’ve ended up looking like if they didn’t make a system from the get-go.

But then the other feeling is back, the one he can’t seem to shake. The one that makes him walk over to the sink instead, turn his back on both Magnus and Jonas, and just stare as a couple drops of beer spills into the sink and he can dunk the bottles into one of the bin bags.

There are enough empty, used, and opened bottles and cans on the kitchen counter as well, so Isak systematically goes through each; drains them, dunks them, repeat. He can hear people talking around him, laughing, cheering, and it feels oddly isolating not to be doing the same.

“Hey,” he hears, his heart jumps into his throat and he whirls around only to see Noora.

She’s nursing a glass of water, Isak fairly sure because he doesn’t think she drinks. There’s a tiny smudge of red on the rim of the glass from her lipstick, but it isn’t noticeable on her lips. She’s smiling at him, small and friendly.

“Hei,” he greets back, maybe straining too much to sound happy for it to come off as authentic, but Noora is nice enough to not let her judging show or to react to it at all. “Everything alright?”

She nods, takes another sip of water. Isak’s hands itch to do something, but he thinks it’s too rude to turn his back on her to continue what he was doing, so he can’t do anything but let the twitchy anxiety settle over him.

“Du vet, with all the times I had Eskild moaning how you never did any housework, I never expected to see you get started on cleaning with the party still going on.”

Isak laughs, ends a little too short and stilted. He feels weird talking about Eskild, guilty at not having spoken to Eskild for so long. He’s gotten so used to no one knowing anything about his life previous to university – besides just very general things. It had been easy to play along when the boys had been moaning about how simultaneously hard and freeing it was to finally have moved out of their parents’ home instead of having to admit Isak hadn’t living his parents for years at that point. Having someone know that, having them know about Eskild, and having Noora who’s lived with Eskild too and knows exactly his quirks and personality traits and how much of a saint he can be but also how goddamn annoying leaves Isak feeling on edge around them.

“Nei,” he looks down at his feet so he won’t have to look at Noora. “Mahdi was freaking out about the mess, though, so I figured I’d just get a head-start, you know?”

She doesn’t nod and doesn’t say anything, and Isak doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Anyway, it’s nice to be able to see the counter,” he tries, then actually looks at the counter and wrinkles his nose. “Or maybe not. God, I swear it’s not usually this gross.” He chances a touch and instantly pulls back much to Noora’s amusement. “Christ, that’s sticky. Alright, don’t touch that.”

“You can’t still be grossed out a sticky stuff after having lived with Eskild, can you?” she laughs. “God knows what the state of his bedding was like when I wasn’t cleaning it for him while you lived there.”

Isak blinks. Why would she – why would Isak know what the state of Eskild’s bedding was like? Why would she think he was in Eskild’s room, on Eskild’s bed? Was she –

“Hallo!”

Isak jumps, startled out of whatever spiral he’d fallen into that only would’ve ended with him pathetically defending his straightness and possibly yelling at Noora, to look at Sana pissed face. Fuck, Isak does not need any more problems.

She arches an eyebrow at him, like that will do anything. Isak tries arching one back, but he thinks he just ends up raising both of them.

She scoffs at him, which – still isn’t helpful – and then levels her best glare at him. Isak does a body wiggle he knows to be equally unhelpful, and he only relishes a little bit in how Sana manages to look even more annoyed with him at that.

In the end, she only needs to say two words. “The plan.”

Fuck.

Isak is so done.

He levels his own glare at her, sneers a “Fine,” that at least sounds more sassy than angry, and worms his way through Noora and Sana with the two bin bags only partially filled.

He’d just seen Magnus, he could definitely get him to follow him around until they end up bumping into Vilde, who better not have already found someone to make out with or Isak will actually leave.

It’s by total accident and perfect surprise when he turns around to get to Magnus and accidentally bumps into Vilde for the second time that night.

“Ah, Vilde, perfect!” Isak hands over the two bags filled with empty bottles. “Do you mind taking these down to the first room on the left? I’ve kind of got my hands full here,” he shrugs, all apologetically and the worst part is that it works brilliantly.

Vilde is wide-eyed, as she always is when someone starts speaking to her, and she clearly isn’t fully prepared when Isak transfers the handles over to her hands – her phone is in one of her hands like Emma is still trying to get a hold of the party info – but all it takes is a gentle puff and she’s on her way down the hallway.

Isak counts to five until he snags a hand around Magnus’ elbow, drawing him out of whatever conversation he’d been having.

“Shit, Mags, there were some weird chirping noises coming from your room. Did you leave your window open again?”

Magnus groans and shoves his half-filled beer bottle at Isak, who barely manages to catch it without spilling it all over himself. “If there’s a freaking dove inside my room again, we are moving, I don’t even care –“

And off he goes. Isak should put this on his resume – professional cupid, as long as it doesn’t concern his own relationships where he will flop epically.

Yeah, maybe not. Except for how Sana looks begrudgingly impressed with Isak’s ingenuity. That’s a novel look on her.

“You know,” Noora clinks her soda can against Isak’s newly acquired beer. “You shouldn’t refer to girls as birds.”

Isak snorts. “I’m just introducing them to a different version of the ‘cat and mouse’-game. Cat-and-bird, in this case, I think.”

Noora groans. “Oh god, no more cat-talk, please.”

“I don’t know,” Isak raises the beer to his lips, ignoring the voice in his head screaming about germs and the other quieter one, telling him he’d agreed to stop. “Maybe this is the push they needed to get the cat out of the bag.”

Noora rolls her head back. “Det var kattens.”

“Are you two seriously just making cat-puns over there?”

OOOOO

It’s just gone past half two in the morning when enough people have fizzled out of the apartment that Isak doesn’t feel guilty for sinking down on the couch with a heavy sigh. There’s a boy and girl making out in an armchair in the corner of the living room, too wrapped up in each other to notice how few people are left. Maybe Isak should get up and tell them to head out, before the state of that armchair will be questionable at best and ready to throw out at worst, but Jonas is closer and has spotted them already.

Besides, Isak’s exhausted, physically and mentally. He’s just – done.

He blinks tiredly as Jonas gets the couple’s attention and nods towards the door. The girl giggles, fixes her clothes as she gets off the guy’s lap and stands up. Thankfully neither of them get mad for the interruption – Jonas looks tired, too, but happy tired. A I’ve-spent-the-entire-evening-having-fun kind of tired. A tired completely opposite to Isak’s kind of tired.

There are bottles and cans lined up on the coffee table that Isak knows he should probably clean now before they have permanent stains on the surface. Eva will fuss over those every time she comes over, but it’s too hard work trying to get his limbs to cooperate, let alone actually get up and do something, so Isak just remains there, sitting and staring and thinking of all the things he should be doing instead of this.

Eva’s half-asleep on the other couch, leaning against Vilde who keeps sneaking glances over at Magnus incredibly non-subtly – well, then again, everything is relative, and she certainly is more subtle than Magnus’ blatant staring – as she talks to Noora about something.

It’s startling a bit, the contrast of how quiet it’s gone. They still have some music on in the background, but it’s a lot quieter than what had been playing earlier, and someone’s changed it from the party-playlist to the one with miscellaneous calmer songs they’d jokingly put together to play whenever one of them are in a bad mood. It’s been mysteriously absent considering just how much Isak’s been messing things up the last little while.

Eskild slumps down next to him, or, more so fully on him. He’s warm and sweaty and Isak is at least a little bit grossed out, but then he remembers that the first time he met Eskild, he’d vomited on his shoes. Suddenly, warm and sweaty doesn’t seem as bad, even if there is a threat of other bodily fluids still being on him.

“How was the big jock, then?” Isak teases. Eskild smiles up at him dopily, all dazed and blessed out, and maybe Isak would worry if he didn’t know what that particular face means.

“Klaus,” Eskild corrects, making Isak rolls his eyes, “was great, thank you very much.”

“You done enough hooking up for the night?”

Eskild sighs, very put-upon in the exact way he always does when he’s about to sprout off some older ‘wisdom’ at Isak. “This is a university party, Isak, not some little high school gathering you might be used to.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but doesn’t interrupt Eskild to remind him this is his second year at university.

“I don’t waste my time on menial hook ups.”

“What have you been doing for the last hour, then?” Isak questions before he can consider the consequences. “Discussing refugee crises?”

“Very funny,” Eskild dead-pans. “And don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Unless you’re prepared to know exactly the places my mouth and his mouth have been –“

Isak lets out an unintelligible string of noises to cut off Eskild. “You just said you didn’t kiss him!”

“’Kissing’,” Eskild uses two fingers on each hand to make quotation marks. “You never mentioned anything about sex.”

Isak groans, rolls his head back onto the couch while Eskild cackles as he sits up properly next to him. “Please tell me you at least didn’t do it in my room.”

Eskild shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Like it would’ve been the first time.”

Isak definitely does not squeak. He yells out indignantly.

“It was the room with all the fit lads plastered onto the walls,” Eskild takes a sip of his beer. “Can’t have been your room, then, your straightness would’ve felt attacked by the mere presence of someone cuter than you near your bed.”

Isak rolls his eyes again, but doesn’t comment on it. Mahdi’s room then, if Isak guesses correctly based on the various FIFA paraphernalia Mahdi has collected over the years. He should remember to remind Mahdi to wash the sheets before he falls asleep there.

Maybe not right now, though, he thinks as Mahdi falls down onto one of their beanbags, laughing back over his shoulder at something Magnus has said.

It doesn’t matter that Eskild is technically as ‘out’ as one can be, the thought of gossiping about what Eskild, a boy, has done with another boy is enough to get Isak’s heart pounding a beat too fast.

He hurries to look away from both Mahdi and Eskild, turns his head to the left instead and looks as Jonas wrinkles his nose at the armchair that had nearly been used by strangers. Isak makes a mental note not to get close to the chair for the next while unless he be the one getting stuck with cleaning it.

Jonas sandwiches himself down on the other couch between the armrest and Eva, who immediately leans up against him, grinning widely. Magnus drags a chair over, Chris claims the other beanbag, and Sana settles on the opposite armrest to Jonas’, the one next to Noora, who immediately wraps her arm around Sana’s middle to keep her from falling off.

It’s unnerving how seamlessly it all plays out, like this isn’t the first time they’ve all been together at the same place, with all of them aware of the others’ presences, at least.

“Are you seriously telling me,” Mahdi groans, ”that out of all of us, only one got lucky tonight?”

Isak immediately notices how both Magnus and Vilde flush a brilliantly matching red and refuse to look at each other, but he thinks he might be the only one with how Eskild’s cackle and Jonas’ immediate complains steal everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got Eva which means you’re perpetually happy,” Mahdi waves off Jonas without listening to anything he’s said, and holds his fist out for Eskild to bump.

“I think this might be the straightest thing I’ve done all night.”

Isak snorts. “That doesn’t say a lot,” and tries to smother his laugh at Eskild’s affronted look.

“Noora,” he immediately whines when Isak refuses to give him any sympathy. “Come sit with me instead of this grumpy boy,” batting his eyelashes for extra effect, as if that’ll be enough.

Noora coos at Eskild from the other couch, but doesn’t move. She does, however, diplomatically add, “I’m quite sure dissing is reserved for those who haven’t gotten laid.”

Isak grumbles unintelligibly as Eskild gleefully grabs onto his shoulder and shakes him around. It’s mostly groaning noises coming out of Isak’s mouth, but it doesn’t really matter with how loud the rest of them are being.

“C’mon, baby grump,” Eskild needles him, still managing to poke him more often than not despite Isak’s best attempts. “Gimmie the gossip, the 411.”

He’s waggling his eyebrows dramatically until Isak rolls his eyes and pushes his face away.

“Oh, come on! It’s the least you can do after practically dropping off the face of the planet for the last forever!”

Isak’s stomach churns with guilt, and it’s so familiar – especially over the last little while – but also so dizzily overwhelming Isak nearly throws caution to the win and just chugs down the remaining half of the vodka bottle from earlier that he knows is still in the kitchen.

He doesn’t.

He remains sitting on the couch, surrounded by his friends and he doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he tries instead, even though it has. He makes half-assed attempts of excuses, because he’s apparently both a shitty person and a shitty friend. And he sees how Eskild just knows it’s all bullshit, but because he’s Eskild he doesn’t comment on it and just lets Isak get away with it, probably realizing that confronting him right now would amount to nothing seeing as Isak is a mess barely holding on by a thread.

Mahdi and Magnus are suddenly worryingly quiet compared to the girls and Eskild, and Isak knows, okay, he fucking knows what they’re thinking about, what the real ‘411’ is. How a world-famous, award-winning-and-nominated movie director apparently knows Isak, and how Isak would literally rather run away than deal with it, scaring his friends into keeping quiet even as they can tell something is really, really wrong.

That gossip. Shit, Isak feels sick. He always does nowadays, and he’s sick of feeling sick.

He can’t tell if Jonas thinks he’s being sly or not, the way he looks at Mahdi and Magnus as if reminding them to keep quiet, Isak can only tell that he really fucking isn’t being smooth or covert about it at all, but pointing it out also means pointing everything else out, so Isak stays quiet. As always.

“You can go into his room and stare at his four non-decorated walls, and then you can walk to campus from classroom to classroom and go visit the library,” Jonas lists on his fingers. “That’s the extent of Isak’s 411.”

Eskild blinks comically.

“That’s it?” he blurts out, much to Sana’s amusement. Isak levels a glare in her direction that she not so smoothly pretends not to have seen. “Seriøst?” and levels a majorly unimpressed look at Isak. “Seriøst?” he repeats.

“What?” Isak knocks his arms out. “What did you expect me to do? Go frolicking at a uni club? Hook up in a storage closet? Chug my body weight in shots at the student union?”

“Yes. All of the above.”

Isak wrinkles his nose. “’Seriøst?’” he mocks.

“Seriøst!” Eskild doesn’t even comment on the sass. “Where are all the stories? The juice? The mind-blowing sex parties and crazy exes?”

Mahdi snorts and his face is relaxed, but his shoulders are tense. “Pretty sure Isak is the most drama-free out of all of us.”

Isak almost wants to laugh at that – if it didn’t seem more tempting to fall down a hole and stay there for eternity – or at the very least at Eskild’s very comically disbelieving face.

“Isak?” Eskild asks, pointing at him. “This Isak? This very specimen of an Isak? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Isak?”

“You forgot about the coffee shop he insists on visiting before a study session so he’s late for every single one of them,” Sana deadpans, her façade only cracking when Isak flips her off.

“Coffee dates, at least?” Eskild asks him hopelessly, slumping back on the couch way too dramatically when Isak shakes his head. “So you don’t go out – does that mean there’s just a slew of people coming in and out of this place?”

“Hey!” Isak objects, vaguely affronted at the insinuation, smacking Eskild’s arm. “And just how many times did I have to walk in on you doing it because you couldn’t move from the living room to your bedroom?”

Eskild doesn’t even have the gall to flush – life is unfair. Both Noora and Eva are cackling and pointing at each other whilst wheezing out half words, but it’s enough for Isak to conclude Eskild probably hasn’t stopped that habit after Isak moved out.

This is good, though. Moving the topic away from Isak’s antics when everything in his head is screaming at him, too close, too close, they’ll find out, they’ll just know.

“You never bring anyone back!” Magnus calls out and why did he think now was a good time to rejoin the conversation – and with that remark?

Eskild gapes over at him. “Isak isn’t scoring anyone?”

Magnus frowns. “I mean – I guess he isn’t. Shit, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“That can’t be, though,” Chris interrupts. “I’m in an entirely different program, but even I hear girls talking about him.”

“Uh, hallo, I’m sitting right here,” Isak reminds them, thankfully sounding more sassy than terrified. Fuck, his throat feels tight.

“Lots of talk,” Noora agrees, holding the rim of her glass against her red lips. “It’s got to be the curls.”

“Must be,” Eskild frowns as he looks Isak over. “That grumpy frown is an instant mood-killer, after all.”

“Not to mention the ugliness,” Mahdi agrees, grinning when Isak gapes over at him in faux betrayal. He doesn’t know how he manages to play it off so well – his heart is pounding and he’s scared Eskild’s sitting close enough to hear it.

“It’s your fault Emma Larzen has been blowing my phone up all night,” Vilde adds, and Magnus – still not able to look at her – snaps his fingers in her direction.

“He even had one served on a silver platter,” Magnus holds his hand out flat like he’s a waiter presenting said platter. “Ready for the picking, and he turns her down.”

A flush rises to Isak’s cheeks as he tries to groan indignantly. “I told you! I’m getting all these psycho-vibes from her, I don’t –“

“He doesn’t have to get with her, if he doesn’t want to,” Jonas points out, but it sounds half-hearted and falls flat even to Isak’s ears, which, admittedly, are mostly filled with the thrum of his pulse and his blood rushing.

Mahdi looks at Jonas like he’s stupid for even thinking that, and Isak doesn’t dare look at any of the girls, just in case he’s secretly breaking unspoken guy-rules only girls know about, and by breaking them they can tell something is up.

“Is he still sneaking out all the time?” Eskild asks, as if it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear Isak’s life is excruciatingly boring, meticulously so, because the last time Isak let his life not be boring things ended up really fucking shitty.

Isak steadfastly ignores how Jonas is looking over at him. He grabs one of the bottles on the table instead and starts scratching at the paper already peeling by itself from the damp caused by the condensation.

It’s stupid, because it feels like the only reason why is because Jonas knows, that he’s managed to figure it out and he knows, but that isn’t logical. It’s Isak’s fear playing tricks on him, but knowing that doesn’t lessen the actual fear one bit.

“Thought you were being all smooth, did you?” Eskild laughs, kicks lazily at Isak’s leg with his knee. “Thought we didn’t hear you coming and going and locking yourself in your room for a, seriously, insane amount of hours.”

“What are you, my babysitter?” Isak grouses, feels Jonas’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his head. He tries to scratch at a spot that sticks stubbornly to the bottle, but all it amounts to is a wet lump of paper falling off next to the spot Isak had been focused on.

Now he also doesn’t dare look at Eskild. He doesn’t want to see if he’s pretending to be or if he’s genuinely hurt from Isak constantly being an asshole to him about being overprotective, when Isak knows exactly why Eskild has always treated him a little gentler than he would anyone else.

“This is great!” Magnus laughs, nearly toppling off the chair when he throws himself backwards too hard. Mahdi catches his leg at the last second and hauls him back upright – Magnus doesn’t even look the slightest perturbed at possibly having avoided breaking his neck, and yet Isak is over here, physically safe but feeling like he’s one look away from a full-blown panic attack.

There’s only so much mean comments and eye-rolls can cover up, and going off of how consciously Isak can feel Jonas looking at him, Isak guesses he’s at the end of the rope.

Somehow, for some reason, his brain interprets that as if it means that’ll be the end of the traumatic, off-handed comments that can be spewed off about him for the rest of the night.

Maybe that’s why what comes out of Eskild’s mouth next leaves Isak so stunned – or maybe it’s just the revelation itself.

“I swear to God,” Eskild nearly spills his beer with how far he leans forward, “I’m pretty sure he was never alone in his room, like, ever.”

Suddenly all the noises that had built up fall away – in his head. Around him, there’s laughter and a wolf-whistle, and Isak hardly hears anything.

His heart is pounding.

He’d always known Eskild knew he had someone over, mostly because that was the only times Eskild would ever knock on his door instead of just plainly burst in, but he never stopped to think about how much does Eskild know?

Could he hear that the voice inside his room was deep, clearly male? He’d been careful never to leave Even’s jacket or shoes out in the hallway, but had he slipped up? It only would’ve taken once and everyone would’ve noticed. Or had he noticed how articles of Isak’s clothing kept disappearing, and then new yet clearly worn ones would pop up in their place?

“I didn’t –“ he licks his lips. “I wasn’t –“

All the sounds rush back. The others’ laughter is so loud, it feels like drums, like the noise is closing in around Isak and he’ll have to tear his way out of there.

Surprisingly, Noora is the one who helps him. “Like you’re one to talk, Eskild!” she laughs, plops herself down between Eskild and Isak and slings her arm around Eskild. “Or do I need to remind you of that one time where I –“

“Okay,” Eskild sasses. “You’ve made your point.”

She removes her arm from around him and holds them both up, palm flat in front of her chest instead. “I’m just saying – who has ‘The Lion King’ on their sex playlist?”

Jonas guffaws and there’s a round of sniggering, but Chris is leaning forward in her chair.

“Depends,” she points at them. “Which song was it? Personally, I’m quite partial to ‘Be prepared’ on my sex playlist.”

“Oh my god,” Eva wheezes, holding a hand over her face.

“What?” Chris knocks her arms out. “Way more appropriate than ‘I Just Can’t Wait to Be King’ or ‘Hakuna Matata’.”

“’Can You Feel the Love Tonight’,” Mahdi calls out. “How did you miss ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’?”

“Shit!” Chris swears and goes to knock the palm of her hand on her forehead, except she’s still holding her bottle of beer.

They’re all giggling messes when Chris has spilt beer into her hair and onto their beanbag, and the girls are trying to help her, but they’re all laughing too hard and Chris keeps moving because she’s laughing too hard.

And Isak finally feels his lungs expand so he can get in a lungful of air. His heart is still racing her he breathes it out heavily through his mouth, but it doesn’t matter.

He got to breathe.

The next morning, or more like afternoon, Isak wakes up, cramped up on the couch with Magnus’ feet shoved in his face. Mahdi is folded up on the beanbags and Jonas is simply passed out on the carpet they really need to vacuum before the day is over.

 Past

For ages, Isak’s teachers had been screaming about how big a change it would be to start high school, and now that Isak’s a first year it’s incredibly underwhelming.

Maybe it’s because there just… isn’t a whole lot different. It’s still just a school; he has classes and homework, but at least now he gets to take more science classes and gets to look at new people – or at least people other than Elias, who, if word on the street is correct, has become a bit of a dealer, so good riddance.

Or maybe it’s because something that’s supposed to be scary just doesn’t compare to all the actual scary things that have already happened in Isak’s life – including the things that aren’t supposed to be scary but are so fucking terrifying anyway.

Having to move out of his childhood home after his dad left and his mom got too ill and freaked out, meeting Even and daring to be with him, even if it’s just behind closed doors, and working so hard to keep the existence of the two of them secret from everyone. Changing tram stop really doesn’t compare.

Out of all of that, it’s probably the secret that weighs the heaviest on Isak’s shoulders and in his heart.

It’s not that he wants anyone to know. That’s not it. There are times where he looks at Eskild, and he knows it wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things if Isak were to tell him, “Hey, I have a boyfriend,” yet the thought of opening his mouth and letting the words out make him feel ill in the worst way possible, mainly disgusted with himself.

Having people know something like that about him? Absolutely not, no thanks.

It’s not about Even, either, it’s about Isak. There’s nothing wrong with being in love with Even, anyone who’s ever met him and hasn’t fallen head over heels in love with him doesn’t have their head screwed on right, according to Isak.

He’s not even sure about what it is he’s so scared of. All of it, maybe. Definitely. The thought of the looks following him around wherever he goes, hearing people talk about him, about it, behind his back, knowing that everyone knows. Being called names, even if he should be used to it at this point, what with how much he’s been called homse for ages by now, but it still makes his pulse spike. Having people determine what he’s like before they’ve even met him, just because he’s the gay guy when in reality he’s just Isak – an Isak who met his Even and got to fall in love with him. The thought of being reduced to nothing but his sexuality is enough to make any stray, however brief, thought of just saying it out loud disappear faster than sunshine in Bergen.

Isak doesn’t exactly know what Even’s reasons are for not wanting to say it either. Probably a bit of the same, he reasons, when he takes the time to observe Even as he’s thinking about it.

Maybe there’s something else, too, but something Isak can’t quite put his finger on. The way he moves, how he talks sometimes. The way he looks at Isak, like he’s simultaneously in love and scared in the same way as Isak but also differently. The way Isak has out of the corner of his eye caught him looking when Isak has to leave for a little bit to avoid Eskild knocking to check in – like he’s both bracing himself for the sight of Isak leaving and is resigned to it. Isak doesn’t know what that means, but he hates that that is how Even always looks whenever Isak walks away, like he’s expecting it.

The actual ‘keeping it a secret’ part is different for the two of them, as well. In some ways, Isak grumbles that Even has it easier, but in others Isak can admit that he’s the one with the advantage.

Keeping a secret is easy when there’s no one else but you, when you’re all alone. Even has parents; parents that he still lives with, and Isak doesn’t. Parents, who ask him where he’s going, where he’s been, and for how long he’ll be gone when he leaves next.

Even has friends he has to keep up appearances with. The only people Isak comes into regular contact with that he doesn’t mind are Eskild and Linn, and it’s rather easy to just walk out of his room and into the kitchen or into the living room and talk to them or watch a movie so that they don’t constantly question what he’s doing.

Although, Isak can and does argue, Eskild, whilst nothing close to being Isak’s parent, can certainly be as overbearing as one, coming to knock on Isak’s door to check if he’s still alive, which always serves to send a stab of fear through his heart when Even is in his room with him.

Even has his bus. Though most of the people there are his original friend-group, so Isak doesn’t think that should count fairly high. Still, there are people there that Even chooses to socialize with beyond his immediate squad, and Isak… doesn’t do that. Doesn’t dare to. The more people he keeps close, the more time he has to spend lying, and Isak is just too high-strung and exhausted at the mere idea.

Even’s got a job. That bit is still fairly new – just a few months ago when one his many media teachers mentioned an old friend of a friend in the Norwegian film industry had been looking for an assistant, and if that was something Even was interested in.

Needless to say, it definitely was, so now Even’s the assistant to an assistant to an assistant to so many links of assistants Isak can’t wrap his head around it to an actual film director. And Even gets to be on an actual set – in the very background, but on the set – and witness his dream career in the works. Isak loves seeing Even like that when he finishes a shift and heads straight for Isak’s room, still reeling off of excitement and complete giddiness and full of stories.

Seeing Even excited, though, doesn’t quite make up for the unpleasant jealousy inside him that flares up when Even suddenly doesn’t have as much time for Isak during the day. It’s an ugly possessiveness he’s struggling with when he already has to spend all of his time with Even in hiding. It’s childish and stupid and Isak actually hates himself for it, which is why he makes such a big deal out of never letting Even know.

It doesn’t really matter, in the long run, Isak can admit to himself when he forces himself to think rationally about it. Because technically, Even can stay overtime at work, he’s allowed to, but he always comes back to Isak on the dot instead. He chooses Isak, and that’s enough to reel the disgusting green monster back from tearing apart everything that Isak loves.

Even chooses him.

He goes to the Kollektiv, even as it’s a twenty minute longer journey from his workplace than if he’d just gone home. He tells Isak as the first person all about his day, and he shares his dreams of when he doesn’t have to observe the work from the back wall but be right in the middle of it all.

He never hesitates to lean down and kiss Isak when Isak tilts his head back, lips pursed just the slightest if he wants Even to move even quicker than usual, and he never waits for Isak to prompt him before he just has to lean down and kiss him, even if he’s technically in the middle of talking.

It’s easy, Isak observes, his arms folded underneath his chin as he rests on his stomach, and Even sits at his desk supposed to be finishing up some homework but just too distracted to actually be productive. It’s easy to be content and excited and happy and ecstatic all in one when they’re like this.

Isak’s lying on his bed, wearing boxers and Even’s hoodie and Even’s seemingly can’t stop taking his eyes off of him.

It’s one of Even’s favorites, the hoodie, Isak knows, because he’d spent ages painting the drawstrings multiple colors that he’ll tell everyone who sees it they’re just the colors he had when Isak knows it’s the colors of the rainbow and the pink, yellow and blue for a reason.

The tiny i-s he’d written on the backside of the left one maybe should’ve brought Isak into a state of panic, because that’s just too close, too big of a hint, but it doesn’t. And every time he can get away with it, Isak steals this particular hoodie, because it’s soft and too big and it smells like Even.

It’s an added bonus that Even loves seeing him in it, loves seeing him wearing only that, and Isak can’t resist giving him coy smiles whenever he catches Even looking.

I want to marry him keeps repeating in Isak’s head. He can’t stop smiling. I want to marry him.

OOOOO

Isak doesn’t mean for it to happen the way it does.

It’s summer. The weather is so hot it leaves all the rooms in the Kollektiv feeling stifling and clammy until its residents-plus-one can’t stand to wear much more than shorts and the thinnest t-shirt in their closets.

It seems like the sun takes forever to set these days, and Isak both mourns the relieving chill of winter and relishes in golden colors and red spots dancing across his eyelids as he basks in the sunlight, sitting propped up against the foot of his bed.

Eskild’s gone out for the night to some southern European-inspired party to celebrate the unusually hot weather, and he’s dragged Linn with him to make sure she actually gets some vitamin D when she insists on sitting cooped up in her room all day.

Isak had, naturally, high-fived her when she pointed out that most people got plenty of vitamin D in the bedroom, and then Linn, after all of Eskild’s scowling, had gone with him without complaint.

Even’s working late this evening, staying overtime at the studio for the experience more than the money. Isak had texted him half an hour ago that the coast was clear whenever he does make his way over.

Even had texted back a heart ten minutes later but no possible timeframe on when that might just be, so Isak’s resigned himself to sitting back and melting into a puddle on the floor for Even to find.

He’s not sure he likes the silence.

It’s rare to find himself home alone in the Kollektiv – Eskild usually zooms his way through as he does with everything else in his life, but Linn is pretty much a constant presence in the small home they’ve made for themselves.

And if his flatmates aren’t home, Even is usually there with him, and time with Even has never made Isak feel alone in the way keeping secrets from your friends will do to you.

He feels… isolated, maybe, is the closest word to the tightening of his chest. Whether it’s isolation from the world or from himself, Isak can’t tell.

What he can tell, however, is that there is only one person in the world who makes Isak’s chest tighten in an entirely different way, in the best way.

It’s the third project Even’s been hired on to help with. This time around it’s a drama following around five different people’s stories; the only thing connecting them is the feeling of loss settling so deeply inside their bones they can’t escape from it.

Isak had joked Even’s eyes had practically lit up at the depressing nature of the theme, and then he’d spent the better of an hour kissing Even’s pout away and telling him over and over again how proud he was of him, how proud he was that Even was working towards something that makes him happy, until Even had been pink-cheeked and lips slackened and wet, and he’d been kissing Isak just to get him to stop talking.

Even when Isak’s sitting here now, in an empty home and waiting, in a room bathed in gold and with the door open in a silent invitation for the one person who’s invited in, even when he’s feeling the most alone he doesn’t feel lonely.

The Kollektiv feels like it’s waiting with baited breath for Even to arrive, and Isak’s right there along with it. The sun is moving further and further down the sky, but it’s still shining just as brightly as ever. And even with the proof of the day slowly coming to an end, with the actual embodiment shining right in Isak’s face that Even is later and later, he still only feels the need to laugh in complete giddiness and relief that he won’t ever have to feel that crippling loneliness ever again.

Waiting for Even for mere hours feels like nothing, doesn’t feel like the slightest sacrifice compared to what Even gives him back just by being there.

Isak is in fucking love, and even now, with so much time having passed since he first met Even, he still feels like he’s either about to burst with it or implode from working so hard to keep it all bottled up.

He never wants to give this feeling up. Never, ever, ever. Can’t even imagine the day he’ll have to. He hopes it never comes.

Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe he’s being both young and stupid – he’s barely turned seventeen, Even’s his first boyfriend. Isak knows the clichés, knows he’s the exact personification of the naïve child thinking they’re all grown up now, but he doesn’t feel young or stupid. He feels like he’s in love.

He tips his head back, the duvet warm underneath his head, but his body is slumped too languidly for him to actually move or do something about it. It’s soft, at least, and Isak lets the remaining bit of the day’s sunlight warm his face.

The door slams shut. Isak hums happily when he hears Even call out his name, still not moving from his spot, but he tilts his chin a bit more pointedly when he feels Even’s presence in the doorway.

Even laughs, practically bounds over to him and leans down to kiss him.

“Halla,” Even grins between kisses, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the line of Isak’s jaw.

Isak reaches up to tug Even’s mouth back to his and ends up mumbling his own greeting into Even’s mouth. It mostly ends up as nothing more than a hum, and then Even hums back, so Isak hums again.

Even’s warm. Isak can feel it radiating off of him, like he’s the actual sun and he’s the reason why Isak’s being bathed in gold and feels so loose and happy. He smells of his cologne and a hint of sweat from a long day working in this heat.

Isak tightens the grip he has on Even, kisses him harder at the happy little noise Even makes. He never wants to let go.

They do part, though, after a little while. Even starts telling him about his day, about how far they’ve gotten and how he got to chat with the director for a couple of minutes before the guy had been whisked away to deal with an issue.

He’s sitting by Isak’s desk, had gone there when Isak had moved his stiff limbs up onto the bed. His laptop is open and his body is angled weirdly so he can look at both Isak and the screen, but mostly just ends up facing the window. He’s finished regaling Isak with stories from his day, sitting there in silence for now as he tries to find something he’d been working on and had wanted to show Isak.

The sun isn’t quite setting yet, the summer days too long for it to be that late yet, but it’s started its descent and Isak knows the light will soon fade behind the tops of the opposite buildings.

Right now, though, the sun hits Even beautifully. Had it been anyone else, Isak would’ve felt weird for staring so much. It being Even, though, he can’t tear his eyes away.

He looks good, Isak notes the way you always do when realizing something you already know about someone you see every day yet are suddenly reminded of. He looks ethereal. He looks like the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Isak.

Isak doesn’t mean for it to happen.

He’s just so fucking happy, so fucking in love, and he never ever ever wants it to end.

“Marry me.”

It slips out of Isak’s mouth before his brain can catch on. He doesn’t want to take it back, though, so he just waits with baited breath for Even to say something, anything.

Even’s gaping at him, the look of surprise evident, but Isak had hoped there would’ve been a slight twinge of happiness or excitement there too – he hadn’t ever counted on Even looking sad.

“You don’t want that.”

“I do,” Isak insists. He wants to reach out and squeeze Even’s hand, but he has a feeling if he moves closer to Even, Even will pull back and flee so he just lies there.

“You don’t,” Even whispers. There are tears threatening to leak out of the corners of his eyes and Isak’s breath hitches.

He didn’t mean for that to happen. He never meant for… for Even to –

All of it doesn’t come down crashing on Isak, crushing him in the rubble, but bits and pieces do crack apart, and suddenly Isak does feel both young and stupid.

Of course Even wouldn’t want that. It’s – it’s not necessarily too soon – they’ve known each other for ages by now, have been together for just as long pretty much, and they’re basically cohabiting already with brief intermittence of Even having to leave to keep up appearances with his parents that he definitely does not have a boyfriend and that there definitely isn’t an Isak in Even’s world, like there isn’t an Even in Isak’s.

Isak had just thought –

He doesn’t know what he thought. Or, he does know, but being in love isn’t always enough to warrant that kind of proposal.

He just proposed. Holy shit.

He should’ve taken more time, more care. Even’s a romantic, he broke into the Botanical Garden just to impress Isak and get his attention, he likes big gestures, and here Isak’s blurting it out like he’s asking what Even would like for dinner. He should’ve gotten a ring – although there are a lot of questions if even that would be a good idea given their situation.

Maybe – maybe that’s it. Maybe Even does want to get married, he just doesn’t want to get married to Isak.

Isak doesn’t doubt that Even loves him, that’s not it. There’s always a nagging thought at the back of his mind when Even tells him that he does, that it would be easier for Even if it was someone else, but Isak’s selfish and he wants Even.

It’s just that there are easier people out there for Even to love, and it would be cruel of Isak not to realize that.

Maybe Even wants someone he can do the big gestures for, that he can show off, someone he can put a ring on their finger and not have to worry about pronouns and nouns and them just being the wrong gender. That person isn’t Isak, and Isak can’t ever imagine being that person who so light-heartedly can do that.

It doesn’t make it hurt less. And it doesn’t explain why Even said Isak couldn’t be the one to want that.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Isak mutters. His cheeks are burning, and he simultaneously can’t stand to look at Even, but he also can’t stand to look away, so he ends up switching between glaring at the wall behind Even and lowering his eyes to the floor, wishing for it to swallow him up. “Just – never mind. Forget it. Don’t mind me.”

Stupid, young, and a fucking idiot.

“That’s not –“ Even’s voice breaks, his words sound thick and like it’s a struggle to speak past a lump in his throat. “That’s not what – that’s – Isak.”

“Forget it,” Isak repeats. He almost wishes he was wearing a sweater, despite how bad the heat already is around him, just so he could curl up and hide away. God, he never should’ve opened his stupid, stupid mouth. “It was – it was dumb. You wouldn’t – let’s just –“

“Isak,” Even breathes out, sounding just as lost and heartbroken and Isak doesn’t understand.

It is fine if Even doesn’t want that, no matter the why, but Isak doesn’t understand why it makes Even react like that.

“That’s not –“ Even tries again, but he doesn’t get further than he did last time either. “You don’t want that. It’s not me – it’s. Isak, you don’t want that.”

The panic is still threatening to overwhelm him, to swallow him up whole until there’s nothing else left, the flight or fight instinct just too present a reaction to the hurt that’s also threatening to overtake him.

But that – that just doesn’t make sense. Isak wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want that.

Obviously, now he’s having second thoughts, but not because he doesn’t want to be with Even forever and ever, as it seems like Even is insinuating, that is tearing him apart to insinuate.

“Why –“ Isak shakes his head as if it would clear his mind of all unwanted thoughts and make him able to think rationally once again. It doesn’t work. “Why do you think that?”

“Because –“ Even’s hands are shaking. “Because I never should’ve gone over to talk to you.”

Isak’s stomach drops. Along with his heart. And his entire body. He feels like he’s weightless, floating around like nothing at the same time as he feels like he weighs a metric ton. What – what?

“You deserve so much better,” Even’s struggling to get the words out, sounds like his throat is too thick. There are tears starting to gather in his eyes. “Always, always. You – you deserve everything, and I –“

He cuts himself off. Isak doesn’t feel like he’s present in his own body, feels like he’s forgotten how to open his mouth and use his words to shout you, you are the one who deserves everything.

“What are you talk-“ Isak manages to get out, though it sounds wrong and not like it’s him who’s speaking. Even cuts him off before he can finish.

“I’m bipolar.”

He says it like it’s the answer to everything, everything bad, that is. It’s –

Isak honestly doesn’t know what to think. He always knows what to think, always has a thousand different thoughts running through his head, either knowing everything about anything or wanting to find out everything about anything. Now, there’s nothing except Isak’s growing panic as bipolar repeats in his head.

“They’d just finalized the diagnosis, and I –“

Even licks his lips, tries to buy himself time, but time for what Isak doesn’t know. Even looks like he’s just finalized his own death sentence, and that everything that comes out of his mouth past this point isn’t an appeal but his final words, his last chance of redemption before a new life.

“I just had to get out of there. I just left – the hospital and my parents. I just had to get out of there. Scared the shit out of everyone,” he laughs a bit self-deprecatingly. It sounds wrong when someone is as close to crying as Even is right now, like it’s less of a laugh and more or a sob. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”

Isak’s bottom lip is quivering. He tries to bite down on it to make it stop, but that just makes it seem like the entirety of his face is shaking.

“And I saw –“ Even cuts himself off, sniffs and shakes his head at himself. “I should’ve left you alone, I know that, because you – but you were just –“

He laughs. It’s not an amused laugh, sounds more self-deprecating and sad and desperate than anything else.

“You were lying in the dirt in the middle of the night, cursing up a storm about how the pictures you were taking of flowers in the middle of the night were turning out shit, and –“

Even’s eyes are wet, but he looks impossibly softly at Isak when he finally meets his gaze. Isak thinks he might be crying too, or at least is close to it.

“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” Even confesses, so quietly Isak nearly can’t hear it, but he does. He hears it. “And I should’ve just left you alone, but I’m selfish. It was like – like you were magical, like I was in a movie and you were what everything had been leading to.”

Isak wants to reach out to him, wants to run his fingers over his skin, let his hands curl around his cheeks, but he knows Even will draw back if he does that.

He also isn’t certain he could actually manage to do it as it seems like his entire body has stopped working, including his heart, and his lungs, and his mind, because there’s only one thing continuously whispered, bipolar, bipolar, bipolar.

Isak doesn’t know a lot – anything – about bipolar disorder. Knows the obvious or just the stereotype, maybe. He figures he could probably see hints, looking back, should’ve maybe noticed the hints way back then. Thinks that Even ranting about other people invalidating his feelings, about the tight smiles when Isak would tease how multiple sleepless nights would naturally end with him conking out for days on end, should’ve been enough to tell Isak that something, that not everything was what he’d been led to believe, that there was more to the story.

Maybe Isak should be scared. He’d spent ages trying to help his mother, been there when she wasn’t well and things were so shit he just wanted to scream.

But this isn’t his mother. It’s Even and Isak’s so unbelievably in love with him.

“I’m glad you came up to me,” Isak blurts out before he’s really thought it through. He doesn’t regret it, though. He squares up instead, stares directly into Even’s eyes and keeps his back straight.

Even’s lips are pressed tightly together, and he has that pinched look to him that tells Isak he’s about to argue with him, probably ask if he hasn’t heard a thing he’s told him, but Isak doesn’t let him.

“I don’t tell you how to feel,” Isak reminds him, has to swallow when he sees the stricken look on Even’s face. “And you don’t tell me how to feel. That’s how we work.”

He lets the ‘right?’ hang unspoken in the air, but Even still nods in agreement as if he’d said it out loud.

“And I’m telling you,” Isak has to swallow – for how steady his voice sounds, he feels incredibly shaky, “that if you thought meeting me was something magical, then me meeting you was a miracle.”

Even’s shaking his head again, looking ready to argue, but Isak won’t let him. Not with this, never with this.

“I was barely alive, back then,” Isak tells him. Even knows some of this, has probably gathered enough from what Isak hasn’t told him, all the blank spaces left unsaid and untold but with enough given to hint why they’re like that. “I was just waiting for each day to pass until one day I’d finally get to live.”

Even knows what he’s leading up to, Isak can tell that he knows. That he’s already heard the ‘you were what made me finally feel like I was living and not just surviving.’

“You saved me,” he insists. “And that’s how we work. What happens after you save me?”

Even shakes his head. His eyes are teary, and his lips are pressed together tightly. “Isak –“

“What happens?”

Isak feels the sigh Even emits all the way inside his bones, feels how it makes him heavy. Such a startling contrast to how light Even’s reply makes him feel.

Even’s voice is quiet, so, so quiet, Isak nearly doesn’t hear him. “You save me back,” is said softly, kindly, lovingly, but also tinged with a sadness that has Isak forget everything but utter hopelessness.

He refuses, though. Not when Even knows what he’s saying, what he’s trying to tell him.

“You would’ve felt like that anyway,” Even argues, is still minutely shaking his head. He’s frowning, but Isak thinks it might be to stop himself from crying. “Eventually. You still would’ve gotten to feel that.”

“I would,” Isak agrees, because theoretically, he probably would’ve. “Eskild gave me a lot. Maybe I would’ve started to feel it when I started at university. Maybe I’d only start feeling it once I got a degree and started working. Maybe I’d meet someone and fall in love and that’s when it would start.”

It’s such a foreign thought, that he could ever fall in love with someone who isn’t Even. Even also looks a bit like the thought of it is breaking his heart, even if it’s one of the points he’s trying to make; that Isak would be alright without ever having had Even in his life.

“But nothing would ever feel like how I feel, right now, and have felt all this time, with you.”

Even still doesn’t really look like he believes him, but he also looks a bit like he knows, because that’s how he feels too, so it feels a bit impossible to argue against it, like it’s a moot point.

“I don’t know a lot about it,” Isak admits, doesn’t clarify what it is, there’s no need. “And you know me – I’ll go on a research bender, and I’m going to drive you insane with it, so you’re going to have to tell me when to stop.”

Even doesn’t look pleased at the prospect of having Isak interrogate him, but he does nod curtly.

Isak digs at the skin around his nails, picking at hangnail until he’s nearly bleeding. It doesn’t make it easier to gather his thoughts, but Isak doubts anything would be helpful.

It feels a bit like someone’s swept the floor out from underneath him. He feels dizzy from it, feels like he’s lost the center of his gravity, which is stupid, because it’s still just Even. Nothing has changed, nothing important, but still –

Isak knows there are a lot of things neither of them talk about. Their entire relationship is founded on lies and secrets that’s always been more of a security blanket than whatever this feeling swirling uncomfortably around in Isak’s stomach is.

It’s not like he has told Even everything there is to possibly know about him, but he knows the important parts, and Isak – Isak just hadn’t realized they were apparently also keeping secrets from each other.

He doesn’t blame Even, that’s not it. On a scale of secrets this one is huge, and it’s not like Even isn’t allowed to keep secret, it’s more that.

That Isak thought Even trusted him.

Finding out he doesn’t, doesn’t feel very nice. It feels absolutely horrible, in fact.

“What are you thinking about?”

Isak’s never heard Even sound like that; small and insecure and maybe even a little afraid. Isak scares Even, and Isak also doesn’t know what to do with that, what to do with anything.

“I –“ he tries to swallow through the lump in his throat. It nearly gets caught instead and breathing feels even harder to do afterwards. “I just – why didn’t you tell me?”

Even looks small, sitting there on the desk chair. He feels miles away from Isak and that doesn’t feel good. He’s never seen Even look small, he’s always been larger than life, even when he was quiet and sleeping for an entire day – crashing, Isak reminds himself – Isak’s heart had always felt so full and overwhelmed whenever he looked at him.

“I still didn’t know what to think about it at first, when I met you.” Even when talking, Even is quiet. It’s awful. “And then, later, I kept telling myself you had to know, that it was only fair, but I – I didn’t want to lose you. And then you told me about your mom, and how that was why your parents were always fighting and that’s why you left, and I couldn’t –“ his voice cracks when he breaks off.

Isak’s jaw is clenched. Blood trickles out from his hangnail when he accidentally digs too hard.

“It’s not the same.”

Even doesn’t look like he believes him, but Isak doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s the only thing he keeps thinking – that it’s not the same, because it isn’t.

“It’s not,” he repeats.

“How?” Even looks resigned, and Isak would’ve thought he would sound tired, but for the first time ever that Isak’s heard, Even sounds bitter. “How isn’t it the same?”

“Because I don’t blame you for being ill, how about that?” Isak snaps. He can feel years upon years of anger and resentment and shame welling up to the surface, and it’s making something ugly inside him want to crawl out, want to lash out at everyone around him, when that really isn’t something Isak wants to do. “I’m not ashamed of you being bipolar. It’s not some ‘character flaw’ that I’ll do my damndest to avoid because it would be inconvenient for me.  I wouldn’t make the people closest to you lie about it just to avoid the social consequences of associating myself with you.”

Maybe it’s not entirely fair. Maybe there’d been lots of other shit going on between his mom and dad that Isak had never bothered looking into, because everything else was already too much and he wouldn’t be able to handle one more thing piled on top of the rest.

He’s not ashamed of Even. He’ll never be ashamed of Even. It sounds like a lie, considering the great lengths they go to, to keep each other a secret, to keep them a secret from the rest of the world, but that’s not Isak being ashamed of Even – no more than it is Even being ashamed of Isak.

“Maybe it will be,” Even points out stubbornly. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s staring straight into Isak’s eyes, but it’s like there’s something between them, something clouding Even’s eyes and twisting his mind until he can build his walls up again and protect himself from Isak. “Next month, next year – you don’t know you won’t resent me for sticking around.”

And Isak –

He wants to scream, wants to cry, both wants to prove he’ll never be like his father and abandon them, but at the same time wants to just bail, and that just makes it worse. He feels the fury inside him and wants to let it out, to show the world just how much can go wrong in a relationship and how much things going wrong can fuck someone up.

But Isak also knows this isn’t Even talking. Or – it is, but it also isn’t, because this is Even protecting himself from when shit will hit the fan, so that he isn’t caught off-guard, so he won’t end up in that doctor’s room again with pitying and worried looks constantly thrown his way until he’ll feel like he’s suffocating.

“It’ll happen,” Even promises, so sure and with certainty in his voice, that Isak wants to cover his ears and scream to block out all the noise. “I’ll hurt you, I know I will.”

In this moment Isak does feel incredibly young and a little out of his depth, but he doesn’t feel any less in love. Of all the uncertainties floating around his head, that isn’t one of them.

“You don’t know that.”

Even huffs, not believing him, and Isak’s tired. He’s tired and he’s going out of his mind and he still wants to never let go of Even, so he gets off the floor and strides over until he’s standing right in front of Even.

The room feels so much darker now compared to when Even had first gotten here, greeting Isak with a kiss and stories. God, that feels like hours, days, ago, not twenty minutes.

Even looks smaller like this, him sitting and Isak standing, but also from his shoulders hunching and body curling in on itself as he tries to convince Isak that he’s better off without him.

“No, you don’t know shit about that. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you – did you ever think about that, huh? Maybe neither of us will hurt each other. At least not so badly we can’t fix it.”

Even opens his mouth probably to protest, but Isak’s done. Done with all the hypothetical scenarios and what ifs of all the ways they can go wrong.

He wants to focus on the ways they can go right.

By slowing down time. He curls his hands around Even’s jaw and tilts his head back so he can’t avoid looking him the eyes. They’re impossibly blue and shiny from the wetness threatening to spill over the edge. Even when he’s upset like this and clearly wants to hide from the world, from Isak, Even accommodates him, lets him maneuver him into facing him.

“Why don’t we, just, take it completely chill,” Isak whispers, thumb rubbing soft circles along the line of Even’s cheekbone, “and we stop worrying about all that. Life is now, and so all that matters is, like, the next minute.”

“The next minute?”

God, Even is usually the one to say cliché things about how Isak is his baby, is his boy, and in this moment can’t help but be reminded how reciprocal that feeling is. Isak’s gorgeous, beautiful boy with a heart of gold and future bright and full of dreams.

Isak nods. “The next minute. That way we don’t have to worry about all the ways things can go wrong.”

Even sniffs. “Because even we can’t manage to fuck up irreparably within a minute?” he jokes, but Isak hears everything past the lighthearted tone, hears the worries and the anxiety and the guilt and shame and the hope.

So Isak smiles softly, continues rubbing his thumb and doesn’t comment on it when a catches a trail of wetness. Then he lets Even hide his face in his t-shirt, his forehead digging into his sternum.

Isak cards his fingers through Even’s hair, bends down far enough that he can press tiny kisses to the back of Even’s head, to the top of his neck.

“Sorry,” Even sniffles, not really crying but also not-not really crying. He’s still hiding away, so Isak just hums soothingly, only stopping when Even starts repeating himself. “Sorry, I – I should’ve told you, I know. I’m so sorry, that was – that was so fucked up of me to do. I should’ve come clean the second we started getting serious, I should’ve let you know –“

“Okay,” Isak just says, because he doesn’t want to tell Even he understands why he didn’t say anything when he’s only certain he partly knows why Even didn’t tell him specifically, and he’s also not going to lie and say he doesn’t feel fucking confused and slightly hurt at Even not telling him.

In hindsight it does explain a lot of things; the sleepless nights, the moments Even went from geared one day to little more than lifeless the next time he’d see him, the surge of text-messages to the bare minimum. Jumping from one project to another without finishing any or become hyper-fixated on one and working on nothing but.

Isak doesn’t realize why he hadn’t paid attention to it before – or, maybe he had, just a bit, felt that at times Even’s behavior was slightly off, but he never really went as far to think that – It never seemed natural to assume that.

“Breathe,” Isak reminds Even softly, the fingers on one of his hands moving down to trace the line of Even’s throat, running along his pulse. Even with the light touch Isak can feel it’s beating too fast. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

Even’s breath rattles when he lets it out. It feels warm and damp through the light material of Isak’s t-shirt, makes his already sticky skin feel clammy with it, but he just presses another kiss to Even’s hair.

“Is that what we’re doing for the next minute?” Even asks, speaking slowly to not make it as evident his body is still thrumming on the remains of adrenaline and panic, making him short of breath. He doesn’t sound mean about it, though.

“Yes.”

“And the minute after that?”

Technically, that’s against the rules, but Isak isn’t up for reminding Even of that.

“The minute after that,” he tells him instead, “we’re going to kiss.”

“That’s chill.”

Isak exhales amusedly at the irony.

“That’s chill.”

OOOOO

“Do you think,” Even wets his lips. Isak can’t tell if it’s a nervous tick or to just draw out time. “Do you think there’s a universe where I’m not like this? Where I’m easier to deal with?”

Isak’s throat tightens. He wants to cry.

It’s in the middle of the night, but Even is still lying awake next to him in bed. Eskild and Linn have long since gone to bed, Isak and Even did too, and they really should’ve fallen asleep by now, but they haven’t.

“It’s not like I’m easy to deal with either,” Isak reminds him.

Even scoffs, moves as if to turn to his side, turn his back to Isak, and Isak can’t have that. His hands fly out underneath his own body so quickly he slaps Even’s shoulder in his hurry to grab onto his t-shirt.

“I’m not,” he insists. Even’s still lying on his back and he’s not actively struggling against Isak’s hold that he doesn’t yet dare loosen. “There are probably hundreds of universes out there where – where you won’t have to hide behind closed doors to be with me, have you thought about that? Where I’m – where I’m a girl, or you are, and there’s no reason for all of this bullshit. Or maybe there’s one where no one would bat an eye at the both of us being boys, where we wouldn’t have even stumbled over the thought.”

Isak moves one of his hands up from Even’s shirt to lightly stroke against the hair curling at the nape of Even’s neck. It’s more awkward than anything, but that’s because it’s the arm he’s lying on and not because Even is resolutely staring into the ceiling, refusing to look at Isak.

“Maybe there’s one where I don’t give you a reason to leave.”

Isak shrugs, tries to calm down his absolutely pounding heart. “You haven’t given me a reason to in this one.”

Even scoffs again, but he doesn’t try to move away from Isak. Small wins.

Isak doesn’t know what happened to make Even so certain people, Isak, will leave him because of this. He figures maybe it had something to do with those boys that he’s occasionally seen him with by accident, when they’re reminded of just how small Oslo really is and that despite meticulous planning, they can’t always avoid running into each other in public.

Even talks about them, sometimes, and Isak’s always been desperate for every single bit of information he can get of Even’s life – the part of it that Isak has never had access to, anyway – so he feels like he already knows the entire group, but… the way that Even talked about them always made him curious. It made it seem like they were his long-lost friends, not people he saw every single day up until they graduated together back in June.

Even doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking, what he’s obviously close to saying, only holding himself back to avoid an argument, to avoid revealing his soul to such a terrifying, vulnerable degree, even if it’s to Isak. Or maybe because it’s to Isak.

Isak knows what Even wants to say. He wants to say that he’s already given him a reason, and if not then they just have to wait for a major episode, or maybe just a small one, and then Isak can see there’s a reason to break this off.

But this isn’t something Isak wants to break off, not for any reason. Reminding Even of that, though, wouldn’t mean anything to Even who won’t let himself process it, won’t let himself belief that it’s true, that there’s still hope for them, that they can still be ‘them’, so Isak changes tactic.

“Maybe there is one where I leave. Hell, maybe there are multiple universes where I leave you.”

Even’s not breathing next to him. Isak can make out his eyes in the darkness, but he can’t tell if they’re shiny from unshed tears or completely dry as Even remains stoic. He doesn’t seem it, though. He seems to be feeling the exact same emotions as Isak; frayed and like someone is unpeeling him bit by bit until he’s exposed for the world to see with nothing holding him together.

“But not in this one.”

Even draws in a deep breath. It sounds shaky.

“In this universe, I stay with you. In this universe, I choose you.”

“This feels like therapy,” Even grouches, but he’s still looking at Isak with that look that always serves to make butterflies swirl around inside of him, even if it’s a little withdrawn and Isak can still tell that this isn’t, that they aren’t okay yet. “I hate therapy.”

Isak can’t help but grin shyly. “Pretty sure it’s not therapy until you start paying me.”

It startles a bark of a laugh out of Even that comes out a little too wet. “You expecting me to pay you, now?”

And it’s fun, because acting like this with Even is always fun, but this, this right now, is Even talking around the subject.

“’Fraid I only accept boyfriend payments,” he says carefully, watches with heavy heart as Even stops smiling and starts looking ready to argue again.

Isak hates having to make him stop smiling, but it’s necessary. They need to do this, can’t just let it hang in the air. They do this with everyone else; talk in half-truths and leave things unsaid and just entirely in secret, but not with each other. Even knows everything about Isak, and Isak had thought he knew everything about Even, too. He’s not angry to find out he doesn’t – confused, a little, maybe a lot, hurt, but he’s not angry.

He probably would’ve been, had he found out any other way, if Even had never confessed to it, if he’d just left it unsaid until one day Isak would find out when either everything was going to shit, or it was just too late entirely.

Even must come to something close to the same conclusion, because the fight leaves his body, and when he starts talking, he answers Isak truthfully.

“I have…” he hesitates before continuing, “almost a sort of love-hate relationship with it. To it?”

“How come?”

Even tries to gather his thoughts, figure out what to say, how to explain. “I hate how it makes me feel, how out of control everything can seem. I like being the one who can decide things and it – it takes that away from me.”

Isak blinks. “And the – the other part? The love part?”

Even wets his lips nervously. “I hate feeling sick,” he says. “I hate how it takes away any feeling of control. I hate how it makes other people look at me like I’m weak, like I’m breakable.”

Isak waits. Allows for Even to let it all out.

Even’s breathing heavily, not quite panting for air, but it’s irregular and mostly superficial. Isak doubts he’s actually getting any air in, but at least he’s not panicking.

“But, if I hadn’t had that appointment, if I wasn’t ill,” Even adds, “I wouldn’t have left my parents’ side that night.”

Isak tilts his head to the side, a slight, confused frown pulling down the right corner of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have gone to Birkelunden, and I wouldn’t have met the cutest boy I’d ever seen, lying on his stomach in the dirt, trying to get a picture of a flower.”

Isak flushes, as he always does when Even talks about him like this, squirms with a bit. It’s almost like he can feel Even’s heart beating in tandem with his own; a little too quick and a little too hard.

It’s impossible not to feel it, and feeling it so strongly makes it impossible not to say something.

“I still want to marry you,” Isak whispers into the darkness.

It’s the first time Even’s stayed over for the night since he told Isak. Isak’s spent the past hour just about debating whether or not he should say something before he just went ahead and did it anyway.

Maybe he shouldn’t have, shouldn’t push these things. A lot of the websites spoke about needing a stable environment and avoiding stress factors, and Isak has this nagging thought in his head that this entire thing they have going, this – this sneaking around and keeping secrets from everyone in their life, having an entire secret relationship, everything that Isak is to Even, is quite a big stress factor.

But he doesn’t want to leave this hanging in the air, not like he’s done with so many other things. This should never be something he grows to regret not saying, and it shouldn’t be something Even should worry about was legit or not.

Even is tense next to him. It sounds like he’s holding his breath, and Isak can’t tell if it’s from anxiety or from waiting for Isak to continue or if he gearing up to argue.

The latter, Isak fears, because Even still has that look in his eyes, the one that says he still fully believes everything he said about how he was too selfish and that Isak deserves more, when Even to Isak already is everything.

“I know you’re probably thinking – hell, you’re thinking too much to keep up with, but you’re definitely thinking I’m only saying it because I said it before and now I don’t want to admit to it being a pity thing, but that’s –“

Isak cuts himself off, shakes his head, not harshly enough the bed shakes, but he can hear how his hair shifts against the pillowcase, causing crinkling noises that fill the sudden silence.

“I don’t know how to convince you it’s not,” Isak admits instead. “I don’t know how to make you believe I’m so in love with you that I never want you far away from me, that I can’t imagine having to live a life without you. I can’t think of anything other than telling you, again and again, as many times as it takes, but I also don’t know if that will ever be enough.”

Even swallows loudly next to him. He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything, and Isak doesn’t know what that means. His heart is pounding in his chest.

“If you really don’t want to marry me, then I’ll never mention it again,” he promises. “But if the only reason you have for not wanting to marry me is because you think ‘I deserve better’, then I’m going to ask you again. I’m going to ask you every single time I can’t believe I could possibly love you any more than I do in that moment.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, wants for Even to say something, to reply, to just let him know – something, anything, that Even is ready and willing to give him.

It makes it easy to hear how Even tries to control his breathing, tries to keep it slow and heavy, make every inhale deep, all the way down into his stomach. He hears it every time Even opens his mouth only to close it again. Until he finally manages to get some words out.

Isak expects – maybe he doesn’t quite know what he expects. A rejection, maybe, denial about everything Isak just said.

No matter what, he doesn’t expect, “Move in with me,” to be what comes out of Even’s mouth.

Isak blinks. Doesn’t really matter in the darkness, but he still does it. Blinks again, even. “Huh?”

The sheets next to him crinkle as Even shuffles around to face him. Isak’s gaping in his direction, he knows, but it’s too dark to see anything besides his silhouette.

“Move in with me,” Even repeats, voice deep and slow.

It’s almost like how he usually sounds when he’s close to falling asleep or just waking up, but he’s neither right now. His voice is steady, he sounds sure in himself, while Isak feels like he’s stuck on a rollercoaster.

“I’m serious,” Even says when Isak just keeps on staring. “Move in with me.”

Like Isak was questioning how serious he was. He’s been working really hard to not let those parts of the websites influence him, refuses to see Even as a child in need of a firm hand to keep him safe, but this kind of question feels so horribly impulsive the thought is the for a shameful second before Isak manages to kick it out again.

“A place just for the two of us,” Even starts painting the picture as beautifully as everything else he does. “We won’t have to sneak around, won’t have to wake up at crazy times just to avoid getting caught. You could finally wear my clothes without worrying, I could get to cook you breakfast.”

Isak’s heart is starting to pick up its pace again, for an entirely different reason now.

“Think about it,” Even prompts. “You said that Noora’s coming back from Spain soon, that’ll be one more person to sneak around, plus there aren’t enough rooms. You’d still have your safety net – you’d still have Eskild to fall back on. We could only put my name on the lease so you wouldn’t have any obligations if things fall through.” If they fall through, Isak knows that means.

“We’ll have to anyway, you’re the only one out of the two of us who’s turned eighteen,” is what comes out of Isak’s mouth instead. Holy shit, he keeps thinking, feeling, maybe, too. Holy shit.

Even lets out a startled laugh that’s too loud for the hour, but Isak’s feeling too shaky in the best of ways to shush him. Even clamps a hand over his mouth himself anyway, tries to smother his giggles behind fingers and the duvet. He sounds every bit as much of the holy shit being continuously repeated in Isak’s head.

“Are we really doing this?”

Isak feels like his feet have been swept off the ground, feels like he’s floating, flying around. It doesn’t feel scary, though. Not when he knows Even’s there, ready to catch him.

“I’m serious about you,” Even whispers once he’s gotten his laughing fit under control again. “Always. And always want to be. And I want to marry you, want to get married to you.”

Isak’s heart tha-thumps loudly in his ears as he waits for the ‘but’.

“I just want you to know what you’re getting into. I never want you to regret anything.” This, me, us.

It’s every bit the but Isak was expecting, fearing, but it’s not the worst but he’s imagined hearing.

“The same goes for you, you know,” Isak reminds him. He grabs Even’s hand, laces their fingers together and squeezes. It somehow feels more intimate than a kiss would’ve. “I never want you to regret choosing me either.”

It’s in the middle of the night on a hot summer’s night, and Even’s eyes are sparkling even in the dark and his thumb is rubbing along Isak’s hand in small circles, and Isak’s in love with him and discussing their future together. He hopes fervently that in every single universe out there, there’s an Isak and Even who find each other, and that there isn’t a single universe where there’s an Isak stupid enough to leave their Even behind.

“I won’t,” Even promises.

‘Forever’ suddenly seems impossibly short when Isak will get to spend it with Even.

Next part

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

[chittaprint]

Bad With Words

Paring: Hendery (Wong Kunhang) x reader

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, mild angst

A late christmas present to the lovely @cherrysweettea​ !! I hope you like it! Hendery is such a sweet angel, and I really tried to do him justice with this story despite not usually writing for these genres. I hope it’s enjoyable

“You need to give yourself more credit! You’ve worked so hard. Honestly, nobody deserves this opportunity more than you do,” you lectured, lightly rolling your eyes at Hendery’s, your best friend, antics. He was always doing this, thinking lowly of himself. Unfortunately, this was quite the habit of his.

“Yeah, I know, but so many other people dedicate their whole lives just to get this opportunity and done…” Hendery responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but I still can’t believe that I, out of the tens of thousands of people who auditioned, got picked…” he trailed off. So humble. Although he was facing away from you, you could tell that he was reflecting on everything that had happened all within a matter of months. Hendery often talked to you about his case of imposter syndrome, his belief that he wasn’t good enough to join the ranks of celebrities. 

While it hurt you to see him constantly tear at his self-worth, it was nice to know someone who embodied so much talent and also such humility. Too many celebrities, in your opinion, understood that they were famous, that they were talented, and flaunted it as if it were some golden VIP card for superior treatment. Maybe it was different because you knew Hendery personally; he was one of your best friends and had never used his talent as a form of superiority. At heart, he really seemed just like an ordinary, kind boy.

“Exactly!” you jumped up out of the beanbag and extended your arms. Hendery’s dark eyes widened a bit in surprise and he stopped folding the shirt in his suitcase. “And SM is going to be so thankful to have an idol as hardworking and talented as you! Or at least he’d better be, or I’m going to fly to Seoul and fight Lee Soo Man on your behalf,” you declared, swiping your arms through the air dramatically. “Korean laws be damned, mess with my best friend and I’ll come for you – CEO? Secret assassin? Doesn’t matter.”

Hendery began to laugh as he crouched over his suitcase. He tried to cover his wheezy laughter with one of his hands, but he failed to mask the sound as per usual. It was also at this moment that he realized that he wasn’t going to get anymore packing done with you around, so he stopped and stood up. “Aw, but what if you get barred from our concerts?” He pouted. “What will I do without your support?”

You arched a brow at him and recoiled slightly in seeming shocked. Bringing a hand to your chest to feign disbelief and scoffing lightly, you replied, “have you forgotten that my acting skills are what got me accepted into our high school and my dream university? You’re talking to a future actress, here! If I received As on all my acting performances throughout high school then I can get past security.” It was all true.

Hendery laughed again, this time making no effort to hide his laugh, and you smiled. “Oh yes,” he pondered between laughs, “how could I forget. You really convinced Mr. Chen that he cancelled the quiz for that class, huh.”

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips in response as the fond memory resurfaced in your mind. Ah, junior year - that had been a particularly fun year. It was also the same year that Hendery had placed second in your school’s annual talent performance contest, which was no small feat considering you both attended one of the best performing arts academies in East Asia. “Only because you caught on and helped me,” you giggled slightly before sighing. “My point is,” you continued with an added emphasis, “you deserve this so much.” The smile grew on your face as his gentle eyes met yours, causing a small grin to swing up onto his lower face

Your eyes moved down to look at Hendery’s half-packed suitcase and the entire mood in the room seemed to shift somewhat. Whereas the space had seconds ago been filled light laughter and smiles, the atmosphere had no ebbed away into feelings of melancholy and unspoken uncertainties. Even the setting sun helped add to the effect. Hendery peered at you with a questioning look on his face, not quite sure what to think of your sudden change of attitude. That was until his eyes followed yours to his suitcase, and he understood everything; nothing needed to be said.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow...” the words escaped your mouth before you registered what you had just said. Just as quickly as the words had slipped out, you realized your mistake. Eyes widening and shoulders tensing, it took everything in your power not to slap your hand over your mouth or jump right out the window on your right. Oh, was it a tempting offer right now. 

You dumb emotions! Why is now that you decide to show yourself and not when I’m on stage and need you? you shouted mentally. “I–sorry,” you stammered, glancing at Hendery and hoping that your cheeks were not a crazy mess of pink. “I just–” but the words would not come out, and in fact no more words formed. Instead, you were restrained to only being allowed to do weird hand motions. Oh god, how did you hate your own vulnerability and emotions.

You may be a skilled actress with superior command over each of your performances and personas, but you were still human. Like everyone else – maybe more than most, in your opinion – your inner emotions, thoughts, and worries you lacked control over. They were rampant and destructive, like a wild storm at sea, and you did not know how to keep them in check. To make matters worse, the storm always seemed to rage at the most unpredictable moments. And oh did you hate it. You hated it because you knew they left you exposed to everyone around you; you could be hurt by even those who had nothing but good intentions.

Nothing needed to be said, however. Hendery just smiled and pulled you into a loose embrace against his chest. You didn’t protest because admittedly you liked the feeling and this wasn’t out of the normal for the two of you. Being friends for so long, Hendery had seen you at almost all of your lowest points, and you’d seen him at his. Each time, you’d helped each other back to your feet and move past whatever obstacle had knocked you down. You quite liked the feeling of knowing that you had someone who would be there for you no matter what. But now that Hendery was leaving, were things still going to be the same?

“Ah, worried that you’re not going to be able to get into enough trouble without me,” he teased, still holding you close to him. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it made your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can get into trouble without–”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off abruptly, placing your hands against his chest to step back slightly. You were so focused on the torrent of emotions in your chest and trying to control your heartbeat that you failed to notice Hendery change his embrace, and his hands rested gently on your waist.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Do I really have the guts to tell him? You wondered to yourself. This question, again... It just loved to irritate you and invade your conscious at all the wrong times. “Yeah,” you let out a slightly shaky breath and refused to meet Hendery’s concerned yet curious eyes. “You know, you’re my best friend and I’m just a bit sad that you’re moving away from here,” you explained. Well, while it wasn’t the full truth, it wasn’t a lie either. While you were proud and ecstatic that Hendery was finally achieving a once-in-a-life-time opportunity, selfishly you were still upset to see your best friend go. Things were always like this; you could never fully express what you wanted to. Maybe being an actress and portraying fake personas was the only thing you were good at. Because while you immersed yourself in make-believe personalities and struggles, you failed time and time again to figure out your own troubles and express your own desires.

Of course, I don’t have the guts to tell him…

“You’re not going to get rid of me so easily,” Hendery clicked his tongue, almost as if he was scolding you. “I’m afraid to say,” he lifted up a hand close to your face, “you’re stuck with me,” he booped your nose. You stepped back a bit further in surprise, and Hendery’s grip on you disappeared. For a moment it seemed that something flashed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Hendery quickly walked over to his computer on the desk and began to rummage through the papers, looking for his keys. As he rummaged, your eyes skimmed over all of the photos on his bulletin board. It brought a bittersweet smile to your face as you spotted several of the two of you. All of them were happy and joyous memories, but each one left a faint bitter taste in your mouth, like a splash of lemon, as they reminded you that such times may not be possible in the future. You rubbed your arms softly as you gazed at one of the photos, in which you were both smiling brightly at the camera behind massive cat-eyed sunglasses and frilly scarves. A few months ago Hendery had taken you to visit one of his friends in Hong Kong. His friend threw a small party and there had been a massive prop box next to a photo booth. Being the ridiculous duo that you were, you’d spent over half an hour taking dramatic photos together in a photo booth with a wide variety of accessories.

“Y/n, are you sure this is a good idea? Your parents think that you are behaving yourself, and what if a photo of their intoxicated daughter gets out onto the internet.”

“Yo, easy solution – the bigger my sunglasses and hat are, the less likely my parents will recognize me.”

The memory forced a smile onto your face, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, which were clouded with a layer of sadness. Like all good things, nothing this good could last forever, surely. This really was your last night with your best friend, but it was still nice that he was taking time out of his schedule to spend it with you. That had to count for something, right?

Beneath the billboard, you spotted a yellow envelope. There was nothing that unique about it but something about the small item still called to you. You found yourself reaching for it, only for Hendery to snatch it away.

“Hey, what was that for?” You exclaimed, pouting.

“Some things are not meant for strange, prying eyes, you know,” he explained as he tucked the card into his jeans’ pocket.

“You’re not going to let me see?”

His expression wavered for a moment from one of teasing disapproval to slight remorse. “Well, maybe later, but not right now.” Then he went back to looking for his keys, as you stood by and watched.

“Okay, I got them!” Hendery exclaimed, holding up his keys. He pulled his red jacket off the back of the chair and began to put it on. “Are you ready to go to the Thai place?” His question drew you out of your trance.

“Huh?” Your eyes whipped back to his half-packed suitcase and scattered clothes on the floor. “But aren’t you in the middle of packing? Don’t you want to finish before we go out?” You quizzed, turning back in Hendery’s direction.

He just shrugged and twirled the keys around his fingers. “Well it’s clear that I’m going to get nothing done with you around, so I’ll just finish after dinner,” he explained. Before you could take a step toward the door, Hendery had moved behind you and began pushing you toward the exit. “Now come on,” he persuaded with a soft smile. “Let’s go since it’s just going to get busier and I have to sleep before my flight tomorrow.” He paused after the sentence, and you turned back to look at him. He had a strange look on his face like he was thinking about something worrying, something personal. You wondered just what was going on inside his mind. But before you could ask, he cut you off.

“Do you still want to come to the airport tomorrow with me?” He asked, but the questioned wavered with uncertainty almost like he was afraid you were going to say no.

“Yes, of course, I’m coming” you reassured, pulling your signature half-smile back into place. “How could you think that I’d let you leave without saying goodbye. I’m bringing a massive poster and everything,” you trailed off with a small laugh.

Both of you knew that you were joking about the poster, but your reassurance seemed to bring some relief to Hendery. A small smile reappeared on his face and the creases of stress began to ebb away. “Okay, good,” he replied quietly and you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or more to himself.

Why did it have to be so hard to tell him how you actually felt? Every time you mustered up what little actual courage you had and faced him with the intention of coming clean, your voice always failed and your emotions broke the dam that was supposed to keep them secure. Each time the world seemed to shake and it felt as if the sky was going to come crashing down. It was just a few simple words, just the honest truth. So why was the truth the hardest thing for you to say to him? You weren’t sure if it was because you were afraid to admit it or you were just incapable of coherent and adult conversation. While you were a skilled actress, you never had been good with personal things, and especially formulating your words. If you had any control over these feelings you would banish them because to you there really was nothing more tragically cliche than this.

Hendery took you by the wrist and began to tug you down the hallway after him, saying: “if you’re going to be this slow, then I guess I’ll just have to drag you to the restaurant.” Your heart jumped slightly at the action and that strange feeling that you hated so much somersaulted in your gut.

“Hey, you could act a bit more chivalrous,” you called out to him as you both burst out the front door into the busy, bustling night of Macau. All you got in return, however, was his usual laugh. Nevertheless, you still smiled.

Yes, there was nothing more tragic – tragically comedic? – than realizing that you were in love with your best friend, a best friend who was destined for great things that didn’t involve you. What a classic cliche modern tragedy.

                                                      •••

The loud bass of the club music was just a blurred hum in your ears; dimmed red and blue flashing lights danced across every inch of your figure and every bottle of alcohol that you were currently eyeing up from your barstool. There was something so tempting about alcohol; it was alluring and welcoming, but still dangerous and extremely destructive. Hah, it’s just like love, you realized. Your e/c eyes skimmed over each label with an intense focus as if analyzing something forbidden that you would never see again.

Lifting your glass, you downed the last of your drink. While it burned the back of your throat ever so slightly, you enjoyed even more the feelings of lightness and peace that the drink inflicted on you. You felt as if you were floating, as if the weight of all your responsibilities, worries, and unanswered questions had suddenly disappeared from your shoulders. You knew that it was only a temporary feeling paired with an unhealthy habit, but the sensation of freedom was still nice and you welcomed it.

You dropped your glass and beckoned to the waiter with your hand, immediately gaining his attention. “Yo, Eric, can I get another glass please,” you called out to him.

“No, actually she’s had enough for right now! Thank you, Eric,” Hendery spoke up next to you, dismissing the waiter. Eric, the bartender, lingered for a few seconds in confusion before several other young adults waved him over to take their orders. Meanwhile, Hendery stealthily moved your empty glass away from you.

You groaned and turned to look at him in your slightly drunken stupor. You pouted out your lower lip, slumping down on the bar. “Aw, and here I thought you were going to be more fun tonight,” you complained slowly. Spotting your drink in his hand you tried to steal it back, but Hendery just moved it farther with apparent ease. “Heeeenderrry, pleeease,” you whined, trying to reach for the glass. “I swear, I’m, like, totally fine right now. I–”

“Nuh-uh,” Hendery just shook his head and turned on his barstool to face you. “No more drinks for you, at least not for now,” he declared loudly over the beat of the music with a tone of authority. You just groaned and rolled your eyes in protest as he patted your back gently. 

God, why was he always like this, so attentive, cautious, and caring? He was acting like a responsible older brother, keeping a careful eye on their more reckless younger sibling. You weren’t sure for which reason you hated his behavior more, because a destructive part of you wanted to get absolutely obliterated tonight or because he probably saw you as a sister, and you clearly didn’t see him the same way. Maybe – definitely – it was a combination of both factors.      

You weren’t sure how long you had been zoning out, but you were suddenly brought back to reality by Hendery snapping his fingers in front of your face. You didn’t lift your head from the bar but shifted to look up at his face. “Do you want to do something or stay here and recover,” you think you heard him ask, but it was so loud in the club that you weren’t certain if you’d actually heard him or not. Maybe in hindsight, those three drinks hadn’t been the best idea. Hendery was still watching you with a mildly concerned expression, so you smiled at him through your drunk giggles. The pulsing lights decorated each angle and crevice of his face and neck, painting him like an abstract canvas. Maybe it was partially due to your tipsy state, but you remembered thinking about how special and handsome he looked in that particular moment.

Do you want to do something? The question echoed in the back of your mind, and you smiled slightly even though it was meant for yourself. If I was more capable of handling my emotions, I’d kiss you and tell you how I really felt, you idiot. But of course, you couldn’t. A part of you twinged with regret that you still couldn’t admit your honest feelings even in such a state. Weren’t people supposed to be at their boldest and most honest while drunk? Well, perhaps it didn’t matter. After all, you were with each other right now, and you both should make the most of your experience. That was good enough for you.

Slinking off your barstool with a drunk smile, you took him by the hands, pulling him along with you toward the raging dance floor. “Come on,” you called, looking back at him through hazy eyes. “Let’s go dance!”

                                                          •••

“Y/n, I have something really important that I want to tell you.” You never found out what Hendery wanted to tell you because you both got swept away by the dancefloor.

You couldn’t recall everything that happened on the dancefloor. You just remembered how loud and packed it was with young adults in similar if not more drunken states. The music had just been a blur in your ears as you moved your body to the rhythm. One thing you did remember though was holding on to Hendery’s hand the entire time to make sure that you wouldn’t get separated in the massive crowd of chaos. And as you smiled and danced next to him, he’d smiled and danced along too. For a second, everything felt normal; it was like you were the only two people on the dance floor, and the world didn’t exist around you; it had been almost the perfect reality, and you had wanted to live in that moment forever.

But then some other drunk accidentally spilled his drink all over your shirt, ruining the illusion. Like any good friend, Hendery had quickly pulled you off the dance floor toward the restrooms. There he insisted that you change into his jacket because there was no way he was going to take you home looking like that. Even drunk, you reasoned that it was better to not show up at your home smelling of alcohol so you accepted his offer.

I really do look like a hot mess right now, you mused to yourself as you tried to wipe away the smears of alcohol off your skin with a wet paper towel. You were aware that there was no feasible way that you were going to clean this all off, but at least Hendery had given you his jacket. Pushing your hair back, you zipped up the red jacket and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Well, at least you looked a bit more put together now. Behind the sharp smell of sweat and alcohol, the jacket smelled like him. Your eyes widened slightly. Whoa, hold on, now that you thought about it, wasn’t this something that boyfriends did with their girlfriends? Oh my god. At the realization, that familiar untamed feeling backflipped in your stomach, and you immediately shouted at the feeling to dissipate.

You shoved open the door to see Hendery standing against the wall in his white tank top, waiting for you. He straightened up as he spotted you exit, and for a second it looked as if he’d lost his breath. But you’d shared clothes many times before, so why was he acting this way now? It was a bit weird, but you quickly dismissed it and walked over to him.

The two of you walked outside and were greeted by the cool night air. While the night was still alive with rushing cars and bustling people, you felt a sense of peace. “Do you want to go home?” Hendery asked.

A smirk crawled onto your lips as you eyed him. “Trying to get rid of me already, huh,” you teased, laughing and punching his shoulder lightly.

“I didn’t mean it like–”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” you replied, tacking on, “let’s walk to the waterfront at least and then we can finally head back home.” Let’s just make this night as long as possible. After all, it would be your last one together for a while.

You and Hendery walked up the street, side by side, taking in all of the night festivities. Sign lights blinked, cars honked, and people bustled along the streets. You talked some, bringing up old funny and sentimental memories. While they were all sweet memories, there was now a certain bitterness to them as the reality of your situation hit you: you were scared of losing your best friend. You knew that in actuality you weren’t losing him, but the possibility of such a thing still terrified you. While the night brought a sense of peace, the storm inside your gut continued to rage, growing more vicious with each passing moment. Calm on the outside, everything was a whirlwind just beneath the skin. You only hoped that these feelings would dissipate.

But they didn’t.

And as you neared the waterfront, the dam containing your emotions broke and you lost control. Stopping in your walk, you drew in a shaky breath and Hendery turned to face you, seeming slightly concerned.

“Is everything ok–” he began to ask, but you cut him off before he could get a full sentence out.  

“I–Hendery,” your words had become like putty in your mouth, intangible and incomprehensible. You could feel your heart beat rapidly in your throat, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the words coming out of your mouth. “I–ha, you know, like, I’m bad with words, but I-uh, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What?” he replies just above a whisper, and the bewildered tone matched perfectly with how you were feeling on the inside. The way he said it though leaves you confused as to whether he didn’t understand what you had just said or was in shock because of that. But none of that mattered at the moment.

Feeling like a puppet in your own skin, you took a few steps toward him until you were standing right in front of him. You tilted your chin to look up at him, and the second you met his eyes you realized that he had his own storm raging inside of him. The look in his eyes revealed that a million thoughts and questions seemed to be rushing through his mind, but you couldn’t understand a single one of them. Your mind was elsewhere.

I’m such a hot mess, a rational realization surfaced in your mind that was still spinning at a hundred miles an hour. Yes, maybe you were a hot mess, but at least you were an honest one. You accepted the fact that you were scared of losing your connection with one of the people who mattered most to you, and you resented that you hadn’t been fully honest with him about your true feelings. And like people say, there is no time like the present; aided by the effects of alcohol, you reasoned that this was the best opportunity you were going to get to be open.

“You idiot,” you whispered as hot liquid built up in the corners of your eyes. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “D-don’t you see that I like you.”

You weren’t sure who acted first, whether you kissed him or he kissed you, but it happened. It was a soft and short kiss, but despite that you could feel the depth and emotions of affection and long-time longing behind the action. It was when you pulled away that the embarrassment of the situation finally hit your finally sobering mind.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” you pulled back and your hands flew to your face. While a large part of you was relieved that you had finally come clean, another part of you was burning with embarrassment. “I don’t know what overcame me. I just–you know–ha ha,” your explanation was no more coherent than your earlier statement, and you laughed half-joylessly half-embarrassed as you wiped a tear from your eye.

Only once your mind and gut began to calm down did you look up. Hendery was still watching you, and when you met his eyes this time you felt calm. It was strange because usually you felt the frantic wings of butterflies almost every time you were with him, but now that feeling was replaced by serenity. You weren’t sure why this was, but you weren’t sure you wanted to understand either.

“Oh, come here,” Hendery cut off your babbling by pulling you into an embrace up against his chest. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you didn’t resist. Rather, your body seemed to instinctively relax into the embrace. “I really like you, too,” he mumbled against the top of your head.

Like usual, your words failed you, and you weren’t sure how to respond so you just reciprocated the hug. Actions seemed to speak louder than words because as you stood there intertwined everything became clear; all your uncertainties disappeared, and your mind felt clear. You knew exactly what he meant, and he understood you.

After some time you began to speak again. “I would never guess you could love a mess like me,” you admitted, still smiling as you drew away from him. You both continued walking toward the approaching waterfront, but this time your fingers were just barely hooked around each other.

“Maybe I’m just drawn to destruction,” Hendery chuckled lightly at the comment. “You’re like a tornado, but a very cute and lovable tornado.”

That might have been the strangest compliment you’d ever received, but it still brought a large smile to your face and made sparks ignite in your chest.

You approached the waterfront and stared out at the open darkness. On the other side of the water, you could make out the lights aligning buildings, shops, and bridges against the night sky. You both used to spend a lot of time down by the waterfront together when you were younger. It felt sentimental coming back to it after all this time, but there was also a sense of closure.

“Um, I know you think you’re the only one bad with words here,” Hendery started, “but I’m pretty bad myself.” That caused you to turn and look at him. He looked a bit nervous, but there was still a small smile on his face, which let you know that everything was okay. Before you could ask what he meant by that, he pulled out the small yellow envelope from his pocket. It was the same one that you’d tried to pick up from his desk earlier that evening.

Hendery eyed it for a few seconds before he moved it in your direction. “I was going to give this to you later and tell you not to read it until after I left, but I guess that after this then it isn’t that important,” he explained as you took the envelope from him.

“What’s in it?” You asked without looking up.

“A few photographs and a letter...where I say I love you,” he admitted in an almost timid manner. He looked almost like a young boy shyly confessing to his crush, how cute.

You opened up the envelope and pulled out of the photographs. Another wide smile immediately manifested itself on your face as you looked down at one of the photos. You were both smiling widely at the camera in summer clothing as the waterfront rested just behind the two of you. Gosh, you both looked so young. You remembered this day. It was after your first day of high school, and you and Hendery had set off down by the waterfront to talk about your first impressions of the school and all the teachers. Now that you thought about it, you were standing in the exact same spot as that day.

Turning to Hendery, you declared excitedly, “let’s take a photo together!”

“Right now? In the dark?” He questioned, seeming confused.

You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on your hips. “Come on, it’s our last night together and I want it to be special with you. We might as well take a second to memorialize the moment,” you suggested, quickly adding, “plus, phones’ cameras have a flash on it.”

Hendery looked like he was thinking about it for a second before nodding his head in agreement and smiling. Excited, you quickly moved over next to him. Hendery smiled at your excitement and wrapped an arm around your waist, as you both looked up into the camera that you held. Behind you, the city lights reflected off the dark water. Just as you went to click the button, you felt Hendery kiss your cheek. You visibly blushed and couldn’t force away the smile on your face. You hoped that the camera captured the moment.

Yet, when you brought the phone close for your viewing, only the home screen greeted you. Wait, what?

“The app crashed!” You exclaimed in shock.

“See this is why you didn’t major in film and photography,” Hendery teased next to you, giving you a slight squeeze. “You don’t know how to operate a camera properly. We really need to buy you some professional lessons.” You knew that his teasing was all in good spirit.

“You think this is all my fault,” you gasped, turning on him. Waving your arms, you declared, “I take one photo of you and the camera breaks! You’re obviously cursed.”

“Only because I let myself be around you,” he replies as he pulls you into another embrace.  You weren’t sure what would happen now or what would become of you in the future, but you were satisfied with the present and that is what mattered most at the moment. You knew that you were a bit of a mess, but that was okay because Hendery and others seemed to love that about you. And sometimes messes were necessary because you would not be able to discover things without cleaning them up. Because while your heart may have been a mess, at least it was an honest one.

“Looks like I’m going to have to hire the best security at my concerts, hmm.”

You smiled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

#Hendery #wong kunhang #hendery x reader #kunhang x reader #nct hendery #wayv hendery #wayv #nct #nct x reader #wayv x reader #fluff #writing #kpop scenario #kpop

[tswiftdaily]

TAYLOR SWIFT: 30 THINGS I LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30

According to my birth certificate, I turn 30 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 18 and part of me feels 283, but the actual age I currently am is 29. I've heard people say that your thirties are "the most fun!" So I'll definitely keep you posted on my findings on that when I know. But until then, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 30, because it's 2019 and sharing is caring.

ONE: I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me I look . I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

TWO: Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

THREE: Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching. 

FOUR: I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

FIVE: Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

SIX: I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.

SEVEN: My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

EIGHT: I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

NINE: I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

TEN: I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)

ELEVEN: Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

TWELVE: Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

THIRTEEN: It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

FOURTEEN: When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

FIFTEEN: Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

SIXTEEN: Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey. 

SEVENTEEN: After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

EIGHTEEN: Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

NINETEEN: Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

TWENTY: Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

TWENTY-ONE: Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

TWENTY-TWO: How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

TWENTY-THREE: I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

TWENTY-FOUR: I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

TWENTY-FIVE: I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

TWENTY-SIX: I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

TWENTY-SEVEN: I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

TWENTY-EIGHT: I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

TWENTY-NINE: I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

THIRTY: My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

ELLE

#taylor swift #elle #article