#ao3 team deserve an international award

[fan-dweeb]

I have nothing saved,,, I don’t wanna overwhelm the server,,,,, but I have needs,,,,,,,,, My sanity is derailing rapidly

#when you don’t have twitter so tumblr is your only gateway to updates on ao3 #ao3 server still down #drifting into insanity #i hate everything #but slay #ao3 team deserve an international award

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Bed Sharing

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Sheep Whisperer by RurouniHime Rated:  Mature Words:  13674 Tags: Sheep & Goats, Alternate Universe - Canon, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Love Confessions, Angst and Humor, Jealousy, Moving In Together, Don't copy to another site Summary:  No good deed goes unpunished, especially if the deed is Draco Malfoy’s. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Trouble With Good Sense by RurouniHime Rated:  Mature Words:  7863 Tags: Humor, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Partnership, Alternate Universe - Canon, Post - Deathly Hallows, HP: EWE, Hotels, Bar Room Brawl, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Auror Conference, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstanding, First Kiss, Don't copy to another site Summary:  When you fill a hotel with flying quills, hands-on demonstrations, and too many Aurors, someone is bound to get cranky. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 the in-betweens by derekmaliknurse Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  42759 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Roommates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Parvati Patil/Daphne Greengrass, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Found Families Summary:  A tale of inter-house unity, Dirty Dancing, the various charms of certain Gryffindors and the Slytherins who fall for them, and Celestina Warbeck, in which Harry James Potter shares a room with one Draco Malfoy and despite seven years of past seething hatred, has the time of his life. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 And There Was Only One Bed by defective-talos Rated:  Not Rated Words:  Unknown Tags: aurorpartners, dracomalfoy, drarry, enemiestolovers, fluff, forcedproximity, harrypotter, magicaltheory, mutualpining, onlyonebed Summary:  Draco and Harry have to spend the night together during a routine Auror mission, but there's a small problem: there is Only One Bed. ----- A narrative version of OTPshipper98's memefic by the same title! ❤️ Read on Wattpad

📜 Cabin Fever by cloudings Rated:  Explicit Words:  15012 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Anal Sex, Sharing a Bed, Wet Dream, Masturbation in Shower, Trapped, Forced Proximity, Sex Toys, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary:  "We're trapped! We're fucking trapped!" Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his hands above his head and turning away in disbelief. "I'm trapped in a fucking love-cabin with Harry Potter!" Harry and Draco end up trapped in a twisted, perverted, and royally fucked up house in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, also known as a Love-Cabin. Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Muttering Retreats of Restless Nights by lumberjackbeards Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1195 Tags: Pre-Relationship, Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, Sharing a Bed Summary:  So there they were, stranded in the middle of nowhere in fucking Wales, and the supposed “inn” they were forced into only had one room. With one bed. And Draco smelt of sheep. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve this. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Once Upon an Eighth Year by ladyroxanne21 Rated:  Explicit Words:  35416 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Sharing a Room, Sharing a Bed, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Confused Harry, Humor, Probably a little crack, UST, Slow Build Summary:  When Harry goes back to Hogwarts for a so-called Eighth Year, he's told by McGonagall that he has to share a room with Draco and that they had better both behave or else they'd *both* be expelled. Rather than grumble, both try to make the best of the situation with Draco providing (non-sexual) comfort each night when Harry has nightmares. Slowly, Harry grows ever more confused about the gorgeous Slytherin. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Such Promises by JosephineStone Rated:  Mature Words:  4060 Tags: Sharing a Bed, Rain Summary:  The prompt describes it rather well. Prompt: S31 : An unexpected storm floods the dungeons so the Slytherins are forced to share dorm space for the night with the Gryffindors. Harry is the only one who'll share a bed with Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Sleeping Beauty Curse by who_la_hoop Rated:  Explicit Words:  152548 Tags: UST, Pining, Forced Bonding, Fake Relationship, Forced Proximity, Humour, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Falling In Love, Magical Sex Toys, Post-War, Semi-Public Sex, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Community: hd_erised, Background Femslash, Fluff and Angst, slow-burn, wanking, so much wanking, bed sharing, getting drunk, sucking cock, Frottage, Nightmares, Families of Choice, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort Summary:  When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Weekend in Heaven('s Inn) by gnarf Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  2754 Tags: Humor, Getting Together, Established Relationship, HP Joggers Fest, Hotels, Roommates, Sharing a Bed Summary:  One weekend, two Professors, a couple of students, and a lot of different stories of finding love while wearing joggers, leggings, or nothing at all. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Catch and Release by shealwaysreads (onereader) Rated:  Explicit Words:  11293 Tags: Forced Bonding, Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Bonding Spell, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Well - Freeform, Enemies to Forced Bonding to Lovers, Touch Averse Draco Malfoy, also, Touch-Starved Draco Malfoy, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Forced Proximity, Forced Cohabitation, personal boundaries, Bodyguard Harry Potter, Feels, minor harry/omc, Happy Ending, Happy Birthday Tacky!!, Touch-Starved Harry Potter Summary:  Wizarding Britain is changing; a slow integration with the Muggle world has begun, and Draco Malfoy has been summoned from his quiet life crafting wards in France to help. But that’s not what this story is about. This story is about Potter, and magic, and the courage it takes to reach out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take My Hand by daisymondays Rated:  Explicit Words:  12814 Tags: Summer, Summer Romance, Pining, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Drinking Games, Harry Potter Has Dimples, Draco Malfoy Can't Cope, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Auror Partners, Draco Has Feels To Spare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Meddling Friends, Touching, Soooo Much Touching, HP: EWE Summary:  Draco has long resigned himself to pining after Harry... that is until an invite on the annual Ministry holiday gives him a chance to change everything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren Rated:  Explicit Words:  23227 Tags: HP: EWE, Broomstick Racing, Love/Hate, Making Out, Minor Injuries, Rimming, Barebacking, Feelings, Denial of Feelings, acceptance of feelings, Drunk Sex mentions, Broom Racer Harry Potter, Organiser Draco Malfoy, H/D Career Fair 2017, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Romance Summary:  Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win. Draco Malfoy is one of the organisers of the London-Nome. The race is infamous for its accidents, but Draco is adamant that this year nothing will go wrong. However, between bad weather and international problems en route, the biggest trouble is he can't stop running into Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Whatever May Come by charlotteschaos Rated:  Explicit Words:  65513 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage, Crossdressing Kink, Object Insertion, First Time, Bottom Draco, Top Harry Summary:  Post HBP (Horcrux hunt) Harry/Draco The trio discovers that Draco Malfoy is hidden away at Spinner's End and Harry recruits him to be a member of the team. *Complete* Winner of Forbidden Desires "Just As It Should Be" 2006 award. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Safe Haven by gnarf Rated:  Explicit Words:  30166 Tags: Final Battle, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Angst, Fluff, Curses, Canonical Character Death, Healing, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Party Games, Firewhiskey (Harry Potter), Praise Kink, St Mungo's Hospital, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Summary:  After switching sides during the final battle, and finding himself with nowhere to go in the aftermath, Luna invites Draco to live with her at Safe Haven. Not knowing what to expect, but having no other options, Draco takes the opportunity and follows her. When they arrived, Draco couldn’t help but realize that whatever he had expected, this surely wasn’t it. He didn’t expect a mouldy old house that belonged to Potter, of all people, and he certainly didn’t expect that Potter would be living there as well. But even with these minor (major) complications, he'd be damned if he wasn’t going to try and make this work. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 9 ½ Days by magpie_fngrl Rated:  Explicit Words:  47904 Tags: Canon Divergence, Canon detour more like, Sharing a Bed, Wandlore (Harry Potter), Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending, Holocaust, Animal Death(not on page), Mildly Dubious Consent, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Romani & Travelers, First Time Summary:  After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Rules in Breakable Heaven by parkkate Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  10106 Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Secrets, Magical Accidents, mpreg (but not really and it's neither Harry or Draco), Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Mildly Dubious Consent, (due to alcohol), Sharing a Bed, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Community: hp_drizzle, HP Drizzle Fest 2020 Summary:  When a magical rainstorm reveals everyone's deepest desires, Harry learns far more about his friends and colleagues than he ever wanted to know. Worst of all, he suddenly has to face his own deepest desire. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 True Children Still by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  34240 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Developing Relationship, Aurors, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, Kink Exploration, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom Draco Malfoy, Daddy Dom Draco Malfoy, Sub Harry Potter, Subspace, littlespace, Age Play, Daddy Kink, Internalized Kink Shaming, Praise Kink, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Switching, Endearments, Dating, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Drinking, Italy, Age Play Little Harry Potter, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  After years of dancing around each other, Draco and Harry have finally begun to date, though they're taking things slow. They've got enough to figure out as it is, and the last thing Harry needs is an unexpected introduction to desires he's not quite ready to face. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Eye of the Storm by Mx_Maneater Rated:  Explicit Words:  25420 Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, Trapped, Sharing a Bed, Non-Linear Narrative, Enemies to Lovers, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Sassy Harry Potter, Missions Gone Wrong, Forced Proximity, OH MY GOD they were roommates (but by accident), Trust Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Community: hp_drizzle Summary:  A storm rages blindly around a cabin with no doors. Without magic, Draco and Harry are trapped inside. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  39404 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, room sharing, bed sharing, Pureblood Holiday Customs, Magical Holiday Theory, Falling In Love, Pining, Flirting, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sleep wanking, Facials, Blowjobs, Rimming, Loss of Virginity, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Gift Giving, Christmas, background Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy Summary:  When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him. (Relax. It's just like a holiday Hallmark movie! ...With, uhm, sleepwanking.) ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 On Your Shore by xanthippe74 Rated:  Mature Words:  35113 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Mystery, Scotland, Dark Magic, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Pining, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Non-Explicit Sex, Demisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Closeted Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Antiques Appraiser Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Good Parent Draco Malfoy, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Married Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too. But both the house and Draco Malfoy have secrets to uncover, and Harry might be in deeper water than he thought. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Protective Bonds by Sadie Dragonfire (justbolts) Rated:  Explicit Words:  38967 Tags: Magical Bond, Sharing a Bed, Forced Cohabitation, Written Pre-Order of the Phoenix, Enemies to Lovers, Companionable Snark, Frottage, Humor, Slow Romance, Unknown feelings Summary:  Hermione discovers a book with an interesting protection spell. Testing it out has unforeseen consequences for Harry and Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl Rated:  Mature Words:  60549 Tags: N/A Summary:  When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected. [Smoochfest 2012] ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 What Separates Us by swtalmnd Rated:  Explicit Words:  79989 Tags: Rape/Non-con, Underage, Drama & Romance, Challenge Response, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, BDSM, Incest, Violence, Non-con Lucius/Draco, no Harry/Draco bad touching Summary:  Harry does something phenomenally stupid in Potions class, and the consequences are farther-reaching than anyone suspects. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Convenient Impracticality by firethesound Rated:  Explicit Words:  38540 Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pining, Friends With Benefits, Obliviousness, Bad dates, blind dates, Semi-Public Sex, Breakfast, Bickering and Banter, Sharing a Bed, Bars and Pubs, Drunken Shenanigans, Cake Summary:  Somehow Harry ends up agreeing to a fake relationship with his ex-nemesis-turned-friendly-acquaintance-with-benefits, except for some reason it involves an awful lot of actual dating and, sadly, not much sex. Confused? Harry is too, but when has anything with Draco Malfoy ever been as straightforward as it seems? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Ghost in the Garden by thistle_verse Rated:  Explicit Words:  27176 Tags: Aurors, Auror Partners, casefic, Pining, Awkward Bed Sharing, Sexual Tension, Snark, society shenanigans, Dragons, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Violence, Community: hd_erised, Ghosts Summary:  That night Draco dreams, and he is the ghost in his garden. He is both silvered figment and his own solid and flesh face pressing against the window, watching. Spinning and spun, haunting and haunted. Turned and turning, an open mouth with no sound. Harry and Draco are thrown together on an investigation into a sinister political movement. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 when we're done sleeping (we'll stay busy dreaming) (Lucky13 #7) by megyal Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1729 Tags: Sharing a Bed Summary:  An Auror protects an important member of the Wizengamot. ❤️ Read on AO3

#game of drarry #drarry #drarry recs #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

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

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

AO3

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

Present

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

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

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

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

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

Even Bech Næsheim’s secret marriage?

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

Fuck.

Fuck.

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

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

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

Fuck.

OOOOO

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

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

He hates feeling like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His feet don’t move.

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

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

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

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

And Isak’s frozen again. Fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OOOOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to get a cup of coffee?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emma leans in closer. “Are you alright?”

Isak –

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

“I’m fine.”

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

“And then Maria said –“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OOOOO

“Boo, you whore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isak!” the boys all shout unsynchronized.

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

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

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

“You’re closer to the door.”

“We’re watching a film!”

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

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

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

The bell sounds again, a persistent ding dong.

“Isak!”

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

“Um –“

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

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

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

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

He presses it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even shrugs. “I asked around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The certificate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was nice seeing you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“The notes.”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

 Past

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything but this, anyway, because Even –

Even is definitely a right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You keep it.”

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

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

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

OOOOO

‘Home’ really is… something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even hums noncommittally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely,” he agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Part

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

[lovelylogans]

You seem to be the person that I follow who knows the most about fanfic, and I kinda want to get into reading it again. I used to read a lot of phan or supernatural stuff and now I read none, lol. Can you rec me LAMP or any pairing between the light sides or platonic fics with happy endings? Even if it's the most basic ones that everyone has read, I probably haven't. Thanks so much!

*cracks knuckles*

this is gonna be a long one. it’ll go title, pairing, then super basic plot summary, so. below the cut!

as far as self-promotion goes, i’ll get that out of the way first and rec you some of my most popular stuff in this fandom. these links will be to ao3, though you can also find them on my tumblr:

where you lead, i will follow (romantic moxiety, romantic logince): 150k of a gilmore girls au that absolutely no one asked me for, you do not need to have read the show to read this. it’s slowburn friends-to-lovers moxiety and childhood friends-to-lovers for logince, this fic follows patton, who was a pregnant trans teen who ran away to the tiny town of sideshire, his son, logan, who just got accepted into one of the most prestigious high schools in the state, patton’s parents, emily and richard, who clash often with their son, virgil, the owner of the local diner and reason all the locals have not developed scurvy, and roman, a teenage dancer/dance instructor who just so happens to have a crush on his best friend. this is a big personal favorite of mine, and i’m still writing in that verse, so. 

lavender for luck (romantic polyamlamp): the fae family has been cursed with magic dating back two hundred years. with great power, however, comes a great price; any man or woman who falls in love with a fae is doomed to die. virgil fae is trying his best to ensure that that does not happen. as is his uncle, dee. however, three of the friends he makes at college makes that increasingly difficult, for him.

my true love gave to me (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality): a christmas-centric fic of four roommates, all of which are in love with each other in some way. follow these disaster gays being wooed or attempting to woo their crush in time to make out under some mistletoe. (this fic was nominated for best overall in the fander fic awards on tumblr.)

not you again (romantic prinxiety): inexplicably my most popular fic in terms of tumblr notes, this follows roman being a Gay Disaster Barista who is crushing hard on one of his regulars, who unfortunately has a boyfriend (or does he?) ft. remy (aka the sleep character from thomas’ short vids.)

dance partner (platonic royality): the popularity of this one is also due to the fanart made by the incredible sanderstribute, roman takes patton for a night of dancing on the town. 

okay, that’s enough of my stuff. this section is mostly “fandom essentials” in that most people have either read them or are familiar with them, in some way. a lot of these are kind of old-school fander fics, but they’re still really good and a good introduction to fandom! mostly the most kudos/bookmarked fics on ao3. also a pretty good starting point to a variety of popular fic-types in this fandom.

to build a home (romantic logicality) by avalorouschoice on ao3: patton and logan adopt virgil from an orphanage. this is a lot of found family, kid-growing-closer-to-the-family, and it’s just. i Like It A Lot and i’m definitely due for a re-read of it, it’s just very sweet

starved (polyamlamp, ft. thomas) by @randomslasher: honestly, it was tough to pick just one randomslasher fic to put on the list (if you’d like more fandom essentials, i’d argue that lj has written a toooon of them so just reading through their fics would be good!) but this one kind of had to win out. this fic boils down to “virgil needs hugs desperately and hides how desperately he needs them from the other sides, the other sides find out, the other sides give him hugs.” that’s... yeah. that’s the one. it’s Good Stuff.

of trying and towers (romantic prinxiety) by @parsnipit: similarly difficult to parse down any parsnipit fics! a lot of their stuff ranks among my personal favorites, so again, just reading down the list of what they’d got is a Good Call especially once upon a dream, which is similarly one of those “fandom essentials.” this fic in particular is about thomas in medieval times, stuff goes wrong, and all the sides split up and are turned into what they hate/fear, and it’s their journey of teaming up together again and defeating the evil ruler in place of the kingdom. there’s dragons. it’s Good Stuff.

it’s only logical (romantic logicality, romantic prinxiety) by @tinysidestrashcaptain: logan owns a flowershop and hires single dad patton, while his best friend virgil, who owns a coffee shop, and roman flirts with virgil a lot. very cute, very sweet, kid thomas is Great! again, tstrashcaptain has a lot of the stuff i’d call “fandom essentials,” so. those! all good stuff!

silence and duality (platonic lamp) by @xaandiir: one of the first takes on the whole “dark sides” aspect we had, back in the day, this fic follows along with the sort of psychology/mentality of the sides as children, as they grow up, and the potential of what could happen to one of the dark sides, especially if they were rejected. i’m trying not to spoil it too much, but! again! good stuff!!

insomnia (platonic lamp) by @xaandiir: virgil cannot sleep, attempts to hide it from the other sides, and the other sides find out. Good Stuff. let the boy take a nap

learning & loving verse (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality) by @virgilsjourney: jenna’s just... yeah, lots of really good fics there! again! a college verse fic in which Pining Roommates feature; virgil helps roman through some stage fright (trying not to spoil it!) to eventually star as fiyero in wicked, and the realization of Feelings throughout. good stuff!

college verse (platonic lamp) by @princelogical: again! one of those Really Great Authors to just read a ton of their stuff! this one in particular is a college verse, in which all the sides have various emotional reckonings. really great character development, really great backstory. i will say read the warnings, just in case!

and now, for some of my personal favorites. this is only a fraction of my favorite fics, and if you’d like more of my personal recommendations, i have a whole tag for fanfic! (if there’s an indent under, it just means ‘more by this author!’)

love and other fairytales (polyamlamp) by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors: ohhh my fuckin god. worldbuilding a+, characterization a+, plot a+. have you ever wanted faerie!virgil and changeling!logan and witch!roman and a-little-cursed!patton??? you do! trust me you do! i have no idea how to describe it without spoiling any of the plot, however, i will say that this is basically just Straight Up a novel and has developed a little fandom of itself which is honestly so lovely to see, so!

faded with uncertainty (romantic prinxiety): in the aftermath of ‘dealing with intrusive thoughts,’ roman finds virgil crying in the midst of the mindscape and comforts him in the aftermath of That Reveal that virgil had in the video

blanket!verse (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality): a few oneshots of varying topics, this deals with virgil and his anxiety in his new relatinoship, as well as patton’s tendency to hide emotions, with fluff involved in each. (canoodling especially it’s so soft and fluffy and just!!!)

track seven (romantic logicality): logan struggles with his emotions and snaps and blows up at everyone; patton tries his best to get to the bottom of it.

lovely, dark, and deep (romantic analogical) by @teacupfulofstarshine:  MERMAIDS!!!! virgil’s a doctoral student and thomas is his advisor, and logan, roman, and patton are all mermaids, of a sort. very good, very gay, the imagery is spectacular and it is Good! Stuff!!!

little and broken (but still good): moxiety as dads! logan, roman, and thomas are their kids! they’re all so good! so cute! really great family feels! i cry every single time! the domesticity! the FLUFF! it is a masterpiece!

the pattonella au (romantic analogical, romantic royality): oh my actual god, star, YOUR MIND, this au is just such a wonderful take on the cinderella fairytale and putting it within the context of the sides with its own little twists and turns, they are Cute and Good and the development of the relationship in the aftermath of a cinderella-type event is just chef’s kiss 

living in the real world (ain’t it fun): the sides coalesce into the real world, and thomas is KIND OF FREAKING OUT about it; they’re having trouble adjusting, at first, but since the work’s still in progress you can see them kind of slowly coming to terms with it and it’s just a take on the “sides become people” au that i’ve never really seen before so!!!!!!

stardust sleeper (and the college!verse in general): logan gets to take the nap He Deserves, there are Cute Accents in here, and it’s just a very cute, very good domestic slice-of-life in the midst of the chaos that is college. it’s Very Cute and Very Sweet and please just read it oh my god???? 

internal bleeding (past romantic logicality, romantic prinxiety) by @princelogical: virgil and roman come to visit patton at christmas, in the aftermath of patton’s husband’s death; his husband is very aware that he’s dead, but he hasn’t been able to leave yet. angst, hurt/comfort, Oh My Fuckin God

the queerplatonic logince verse: logan and roman are in a queerplatonic relationship, and the stuff that entails. i just really like it whenever someone focuses on aro or ace sides, and i think this is a really well-done portrayal of the fact that relationships absolutely do not need to be romantic in order to be significant.

i feel like it’s just me: patton is a professional cuddler, and the people he meets in the course of that job, ft. some patton angst and general thoughts about loneliness. to quote, “this is more of a concept piece,” but i very much like the concept

lists.: just a short, sweet lil thing about the other sides appreciating logan.

hold your breath until it’s okay by insertfandomjoke, @notafeeling on tumblr: a brooklyn 99 style au in which logan is the captain, and virgil, roman, and patton are the detectives—it’s a “Five Times They Closed a Case Without Anyone Getting Hurt and the One Time They Didn't” au. 

in which we are all virgil: in which virgil stares at elliott and thinks “oh no they cute!!!” and also presents elliott as joan’s anxiety and dr. picani as a fusion between patton and logan and it just. Good!

sweaters: patton makes his boyfriends all christmas sweaters and They Cute

habits (romantic logicality) by @astralbone: human au, slice-of-life kind of thing. the characterizations are Very Good and honestly i just really love to read it. both of them are hurting and their life may not be perfect but they’re fitting together and it’s just. it’s Very Good

sanders sides ficlets by @virgilsjourney: ranging a variety of topics/timespans in terms of the series, there is a ton here. you want movie night fluff? it’s here! you want hurt/comfort angst in which roman is locked away like in the snow queen? you got it! you want logan and patton mend up after moving on???? it’s here! just a lot of really good stuff!!!!!!

blink back to let me know (romantic moxiety, hinted romantic logince) by @virgilsanxiety and @shakespearesocks: virgil and patton are both pining, logan and roman don’t get paid enough for this, and they are Good Soft Boys who maybe need to improve a bit at communication

logic’s notebooks (romantic analogical) by @parsnipit: logan keeps notebooks about all the sides and feels bad about it; in the midst of all this, some Very Great domestic analogical

and you lied to all your selves (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality) by penrosequartz: i haven’t read this in a minute, but it’s a prinxiety fic in which they get closer, and virgil is being, well, anxious, and i’d recommend you read the warnings but!!! loosely structured, good characterization, it’s just some! good! stuff!

migraine (analogical) by @theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly (philosophicalrune on ao3): virgil is overworking himself through a migraine, logan helps him feel better, and tries his best to make virgil feel better. it’s cute and sweet and very good in terms of hurt/comfort, i tend to go back to it whenever school is stressing me out, so that should tell you something!

smile (platonic moxiety) by @doggo-fiends-on-a-spaceship: to steal their alternative title, “Alternatively titled: Virgil has a nightmare and wants a hug, but being emotionally constipated, Cannot Ask for one.” virgil has a nightmare and spends the night in patton’s room; the trouble is, patton did not know that he was doing that until he nearly trips over virgil. they are Good Boys and it’s just Real Nice

again, this is a tiny, miniscule fraction of really spectacular fics in this fandom—there’s a lot of talented people here, so happy reading!

#fanfic #i know you said mostly happy endings and i think most of these qualify #but some of them are really angsty in terms of their like. 'happy ending'ness. so! #brightbrightpink

[hope-for-olicity]

Airplanes, Coffee and Deadlines 1/?

Felicity begins working at a national newspaper where she has always dreamed of working. On her first day, she meets a very interesting photojournalist. The two will eventually work together but sparks fly immediately. Also available on AO3. 

When Felicity saw the first paper airplane land on her desk she thought it must be a mistake. This was her first day at the Starling Globe, she knew no one so there was no reason for someone to be flying airplanes toward her, right?

Besides, this was a serious place of work. A national newspaper. Someone must have brought their kid to work. Felicity slowly rose in her cubicle looking for the little person behind the planes. She was too short to see over her wall so she walked out looking down for a child, only to walk into a fully grown man. She looked up feeling her cheeks reddening, as she came face to face with one of the most attractive men, she’d ever met in real life. His hair, his stubble and perfect blue eyes. “Uhm, sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“Really, I’m a pretty tall guy, kind of hard to miss.” He smiled, held out his hand. “Oliver Queen.” He could tell he’d made the new girl nervous, which was not his intent.

“Felicity Smoak.” She quickly shook his hand. “Did you see a kid? I think I have his paper airplane.” She held up the device.

“That’s mine.” Oliver smiled proudly.

“Oh.” Felicity knew her mouth formed the “O” she really was surprised. “Do you want it back?” She held out the plane tentatively. Now that she knew where it had come from she kind of wanted to keep it.

“Nope,” Oliver waved his hand. “You can keep it. I made it for you.  You know, as kind of a welcome to the office kind of thing.”

Felicity blushed. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here. I’ve always read this paper, it brought national and international news to my small hometown. I wanted to know what was happening everywhere. I am so grateful to be part of it all now.”

“Hold onto that. We need more people who think like you here. What we do important, to me it’s more than a job. People need to be informed. An informed public supports the very democracy we have. Sorry, getting off my soapbox now.” Oliver again worried he may gone too far. Don’t freak out the new girl, he thought.

“I completely agree, Oliver. I’m so glad I met you. I am definitely in the right place.” Felicity beamed. This guy was not only super hot but he held the same beliefs. She was going to have to pinch herself soon but she really didn’t want to wake up.

“So, what are you up to today?” Oliver tried to sneak a peek into her very empty cubicle.

“Orientation with Dinah Drake from HR. She had a meeting, so she left me to set my email and fill out the customary forms. She should be here soon to show me around, give me the lay of the land. I don’t mean lay...I mean….tell me all the rules and such.” Felicity just couldn’t stop herself from tripping over her own tongue!

“Sounds great, my desk is right here on the opposite side of yours so pop up if you need anything.” Oliver smiled, headed back to his computer. He was working on some photos he took that would be featured in the weekend edition of the paper.

Dinah arrived as Oliver walked away. “I see you met Oliver Queen. He is one of our best photojournalists. Award-winning, even.”

“Oh,” now that Dinah pointed it out, she had heard of him. Oops. It was like her brain had stopped processing for a moment, just stuck in the moment with him.

~~~~~

“Go grab lunch, I’ll meet you back at your desk in time for the two o’clock planning meeting.” Dinah left Felicity at her desk.

Felicity loved it here. She loved the busy newsroom with the ringing phones, people typing on their keyboards and the quiet din of television news coming from TVs all over the room. The news lived and breathed here and she was now part of it all.

Felicity unlocked her purse from her desk drawer, she needed to get some lunch. She hoped there was a place close by. As she left her cubicle she was happy to see Oliver at his desk. She tapped lightly on his desk so he’d remove his headphones, she heard some 90s grunge as he took them off. “Hey, just wondering if you know if there is anywhere close by to grab food? Nothing fancy, just coffee, soup or sandwich place?”

Oliver pressed stop on his music, before minimizing his windows. “No place nearby, but I’m about to head out if you want to come with me. I know the best coffee place.”

“Sold. You had me at coffee.” Felicity smiled.

Oliver grabbed his bag and they began heading for the door. “Oliver!” They both turned when they heard someone calling his name.

Oliver’s face broke into a smile. “Digg, so nice to see you. I didn’t know you were back.”

“Flew in last night, needed to take care of some stuff here before a take a few days off. Are you heading out?” John Diggle smiled, looking rather pointedly at Felicity.

“We are.” Oliver looked to Felicity, “Felicity Smoak this is John Diggle, one of our best foreign correspondents, John this is Felicity’s first day.”

John shook Felicity’s hand. “Have you been assigned a beat yet? Maybe we will be working together.”

Felicity chuckled. “It would be honour to work with you Mr. Diggle. I’m a big fan of your work. The stories you did from Afghanistan were outstanding and the photos. I especially loved how you focus on the issues facing the women there. Thank you so much for that. I and so many others needed to know what was happening.”

“Ooh, I like you and I wish I take all the credit for that series but that belongs with the guy behind you. He did all the background getting us sources and taking pictures, I just came in at the last minute and wrote it up. So, as much as it pains me to not be praised - it’s Oliver that deserves all the credit.” John nodded to his friend.

When Felicity turned to give credit where credit was due, she faced a blushing Oliver. It made her smile. She cleared her throat softly, “thank you so much, Oliver.”

Oliver nodded. He did not handle compliments well, especially those he knew were sincere. “Anyway, we are on our way out to grab lunch. Do you need anything? Want to come?”

“I don’t need anything by Lyla would like you to drop by,” Digg turned to Felicity, “she’s our foreign assignment editor, she tells us all where to go, plus she’s my eight-month pregnant wife.” John turned to Oliver. “I would suggest you bring her chocolate to avoid getting sent somewhere cold.”

“I will do better than that. I’ll bring her British chocolate which I need to grab from my desk,” Oliver hurried and forth to his desk.  “And I’ll bring Felicity.”

“Ooh, she’s going to like you more than me,” Digg slapped Oliver on the shoulder before turning to look at Felicity. “My wife loves meeting new journalists, she thinks you might know she things hasn’t learned and she greatly appreciates new perspectives.”

“Oh, I look forward to meeting her. But I might not have time today, I need to be back for two.” Felicity felt disappointed, Lyla sounded interesting and she was the foreign assignment editor a field of journalism she was very much interested.

“Oh, we have time. Plus, I’m in your two o’clock meeting. Let’s go, we’ll pick up lunch, bring it to Lyla’s.” Oliver heading for the door.

Felicity waved at Digg, rushing to catch up with Oliver.

~~~~~

“Felicity, it was an absolute delight to meet you!  Promise, you will visit again. I’m stuck here until the baby is born but I look forward to seeing you at work. John will be taking the second half of the leave. We split it with our first son, it works for us.” Lyla smiled.

Felicity walked out to the elevator with Oliver. “She seems great.”

“She’s the best. Really cares about her team. It means a lot when you are out in the field to know there is someone at home you can count on. Maybe one day you will experience that first hand.” The elevator dinged as it arrived.

“It would be a dream come true.  But for now, I’m just happy to be here. I’ll take whatever assignment they give me.” As the day went on, Felicity felt more confident than ever that this was where she was meant to be.

~~~~~

They made it back just in time for the two o’clock meeting. She met Dinah at her desk. Felicity felt a little awkward, she hoped to be early to make a good impression.

The meeting was led by senior assignment editor Walter Steele. Felicity had seen his photo, she knew he was regarded with respect but this was her first time seeing him in person. He commanded the room. And not just because he had a cool British accent.

“So, before we go around the room. Any new business?” Walter looked around the room.

As this was Felicity’s first meeting, she thought she’d be observing, figure out her role.

“Yes, Walter,” Oliver stood. “We have a new staff journalist starting today. Everyone, this is Felicity Smoak”

Felicity blushed widely. She never liked being the focus of attention. She stood nodded. “Thanks for having me.”

“Welcome to our team, Ms. Smoak. I look forward to working with you.” Walter Steele nodded in her direction.

Walter Steele talked to her. Felicity was totally having a fangirl moment. Felicity looked up to see Oliver smiling at her. It was like he got how awesome this was.

Felicity listened as the assignment editors, including Lyla on the phone, read out their assignments and who the journalist was on the beat. She heard Oliver being assigned to take photos of local protest regarding high rents. He got up, gave her a slight wave, heading out to cover the story.

When the meeting ended the local assignment editor, Quentin Lance, came over to here. “Hello, Ms. Smoak, you have been assigned to my team. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“Sure!, Mr. Lance.” Felicity shook his hand.

“Quentin will be fine. If you have a moment maybe we can talk about your past experience and what types of stories you are interested in. I can’t promise that you will always get those stories but it’s good for me to know.”

“Of course. Right now I’m grateful for the opportunity, happy to take whatever you offer. As for my interests, they are wide-ranging. I grew interested in international news, especially those that focused on human rights. My other interests include women’s rights, technology and human interest.”

“That’s great. Tomorrow there’s a women’s conference over at the convention centre. I’d like you to go. Hopefully, you can find a story and not just a puff piece.” Quentin gave her a serious look.

Felicity nodded. “I’m on it.”

“Great. Your name will be at the door, you can pick up your pass there. Email me the moment you have something.” Quentin nodded before walking away.

Felicity had to stop herself from squeeing. Her first real assignment. She was going to knock’em dead.

~~~~~

Felicity did knock’em dead. She ended up exposing that the male panellists at the Women’s Conference were being paid more than the female. That wouldn’t be happening again.

Felicity got an email from Quentin asking to see her in his office. She made her way there hoping he was pleased with her. She tapped lightly on the half-open glass door.

“Aww, Ms. Smoak. Thanks for coming. Take a seat.” Quentin gestured to the seat across from him.

“You can call me Felicity,” she took a seat.

“Well done, Felicity. Lyla said she saw the fire in you.” Quentin smiled. “How is your story coming along today?”

“Good, as you know I’m covering the movie being shot on the residential street nearby. I got quotes from the crew and an actor about shooting in the city, I just have to add the finishing touches, quotes from residents and I will file.” Felicity crossed and uncrossed her legs, unsure what her boss was thinking.

“Sounds good.” Quentin gave her a gruff smile. “Alright, I guess I’ll see you at the morning meeting.”

Felicity stood to leave noticing for the first time the basset hound in the bed next to Quentin’s desk. “You have a dog! How wonderful.”

“Felicity, meet Deadline.” Quentin nodded at the dog he watched him. “Deadline, this is Felicity.”

Deadline turned to face Felicity. “Nice to meet you Deadline. I didn’t realize this was a dog-friendly office.”

“As long as the dogs don’t cause trouble they are welcome here. Walter read they create a calming environment, decrease the stress that kind of thing….do you have a dog?” Quentin pet the top of Deadline’s head.

“No, but I’ve always wanted one.” Leaned down to pet Deadline’s back.

“Well, I don’t know if they decrease stress, but Deadline is always there for me. You should think about it.”

“I will. Knowing it’s a dog-friendly office definitely helps in my decision making.” Felicity had a smile on her face as she left.

Felicity had a lot to think about as she headed back to her desk - a dog, how much she was enjoying her new job and whether or not it was a good idea that she a crush on a dashing photojournalist.

Thanks for reading! I so hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! A lot of this first chapter was autobiographical from my experience working at a newspaper. Next chapter coming soon! I’m going to tag some people. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

@mindramblingsfics @memcjo @mel-loves-all @wherethereissmoak @green-arrows-of-karamel @spaztronautwriter @wrldtravler @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @oliverfel4 @lucyyh @swordandarrow  @smoaking-greenarrow @it-was-a-red-heeler @miriam1779 @coal000 @blondeeoneexox @laurabelle2930 @allimariexf @onceuponarrow @swordandarrow @msbeccieboo @tangled23works @icannotbelieveiamhere @1-crazy-dreamer @stephswims

#Airplanes Coffee and Deadlines #olicity fanfiction #alternate universe #oliver x felicity #MyFanfic

[areiton]

text me maybe

Summary:

He’s drunk and there’s a really hazy decade in the nineties that Rhodey looks pained when he even thinks about that says doing shit when he’s drunk is a bad idea.

There’s also a new building on MIT campus and a yearly donation that supports that theory.

But MIT and Rhodey are far away and that clunky black flip phone is not, and he snarls as he snatches it up and punches in the message.

It takes almost five minutes because the tech is obsolete and he is drunk but he does and he smiles at it, viciously pleased.

~*~

Chapter 2 of 4. Lots of angst and miscommunication and pining. Enjoy.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 

~*~ 

He panics.

Because this--this was only ever supposed to be a drunk dial--Steve was never supposed to respond, he wasn't supposed to fall for Steve.

He's been down that road, right after New York, when the team scattered and it was just Tony and Steve in a big empty tower and the reasons they didn't get along, the reasons Tony resented him all felt very far away.

And it never worked. Steve and Tony--it never worked. It cut at him, because there's a part of him, the young boy who idolized Captain America, who wanted it to.

He doesn't know what the hell this is.

He doesn't even know that he wants it. Steve--he knows Steve, knows his good and his bad and he knows they don't fit together. They work well as colleagues, and sometimes as friends, but they weren't the kind of people who could make their differences fit into a relationship. They were too similar.

He ignores the phone and the steady stream of messages for three days, ignores the pounding in his heart every time his vision lights up with a new one, and the stupid treacherous voice in his head that says--this could be a  good thing.

This could be the best thing.

He thinks, if it were anyone but Steve.

He ruthlessly silences the voice that says, maybe .

  ~*~

  "Are you ok?" Peter asks, and Tony blinks at him. They're at one of the kid's favorite diners, and he's staring into nothing, half-listening to the boy ramble about a science project he and Ned are working on.

Shit.

He's doing that thing again, where he tunes the boy out. He swore he'd stop doing that, after the kid had a damn building dropped on him. He deserves better than that.

"Sorry--sorry, I'm listening."

Peter shifts, rubs his hands on his jeans and gives Tony a bright smile. "You know I can listen too."

Tony pauses and stares at him, not sure what to do that. Except--it's not that surprising. It's such a Peter thing to say it almost hurts .

"My relationship problems aren't your problem, kid," he says gently and Peter gives him a bright smile.

"You listened, when I was upset about everything with Liz, and that time with Harry. I can listen, sir."

"Part of the gig--mentoring baby superheroes means listening to relationship woes."

Peter frowns, probably because of the baby comment, but he just stares at Tony, his gaze sad and steady. "You don't always have to be the one listening. It's not just about what you can give other people, Mr. Stark."

Tony stares for a long minute, and then--"You'll be mad."

Peter doesn't say anything, just stares, patiently waiting and Tony sighs. "I think I want to date Steve."

Peter's spit take is almost worth the hour of explanation that little declaration causes.

Almost.

  ~*~

  He hesitates over the message.

Not sure he should send it and not sure he shouldn’t. It says something, if Steve picks up the subtlety--which, Rhodey doesn’t think he will because as soon as he finished explaining to Pete what was going on, Peter called Rhodes and spilled it all.

It wasn’t a fun night.

Peter is still angry, though he says it’s not with Tony himself.

  I told Pete and Rhodey about us.

  He exhales slow, fingers shaking just a little as he waits.

He doesn’t know what Steve will say to that. In all the time they’ve been texting, they’ve never talked about telling people--or not.

For all he knows, Steve lets Barnes read every one of these damn texts.

The idea sits in his stomach, sour and terrifying.

  How’d they take it?

  No questions about his recent silence. Tony blows out a breath, relieved.

  Rhodey is annoyed but only because I’m being self-destructive. He’s used to it though. Pete--Pete is still pissed. He doesn’t trust you.

  There’s a longer pause this time.

  Smart of him. I’m not exactly trustworthy. I know if you were mine, I wouldn’t trust another fella with you.

  Tony gapes at that for a long moment, and then, before he can form a response.

  Gotta go. Gonna be radio silent for a few days. Should make Pete happy.

  ~*~

  Steve is jealous .

It's so absurd that it takes two days and showing the damn messages to Rhodey before he actually wraps his head around it.

"Guess you got your answer, Tones," Rhodey says, a wry smile on his lips. He blinks at his best friend, then the message, then his best friend again.

"Steve is jealous ," he says, stupidly. "Of Pete ."

"What exactly does Steve know about Peter?" Rhodey asks, "Because unless it's that he's a fifteen year old baby superhero, yeah--I can understand why Steve'd be jealous."

Tony huffs a sigh. "Why does everyone always expect me to lead with that?"

Rhodey snorts, and turns back to his documentary. "Because everything else is burying the lede," he says. "Go tell your boy that the kid is just that. How you manage to fuck up straight forward communication, Tones, I swear to god, you're a gift."

Tony sticks his tongue out at Rhodey, and frowns at the phone.

And then, smiles.

  ~*~

  He waits. Steve is radio silent anyway, so waiting is no real hardship. He shows up at Peter’s science fair, stands near the back, as unobtrusive as Tony Stark at a high school science fair can be, and when it’s over and Peter bounds up to him with a big medal on a blue ribbon and a bigger smile, he drags the boy in, takes a picture that he immediately sets as his lockscreen before dragging Peter out for cheeseburgers and milkshakes.

And later, much later, when Pete has been returned home, and Tony has slipped back into the Tower and showered and fucked around in the ‘shop for a few hours, the bots getting tune-ups that none of them need, DUM-E beeping and pinching at him grumpily--after he is laying in his bed and dawn has started to lighten the sky, he sends the text.

The picture of him and Peter and that Midtown Science award, and Pete’s blinding pride.

And four little words, that feels like a confession weighing this thing that has become a joke down.

  I’m proud of Peter.

  ~*~

That is Peter.

  Tony, that's a child.

  He's an intern. Brilliant--reminds me of myself at that age--well, the genius bit. Not the drug using slut part. Pete's too good for that.

  He's a CHILD.

  Did you think he wasn't?

  That's mean and he damn well knows it. But he's tired of them dancing around something this big.

  Well--yeah? Thought maybe he was someone you were datin.

  Tony licks his lips. Rhodey's mocking, gentle smile is still in his mind, his disbelief that Tony could fuck up simple communication, and maybe--maybe if he and Steve had just fucking talked , they never would have been in this position to begin with.

  I'm not dating. Not since Potts left me. There were a few one night stands but not--not for a while.

  There's a long pause, and his heart pounds, too hard for a man his age and with his heart condition--he feels stripped bare and there's a part of him that hates it.

That wants to take it back and laugh it off.

A bigger, lonelier part of him keeps his mouth shut and waits.

  How long?

  Bastard, Tony thinks, affectionately. Always pushing for more.

But for all that it's a small demand--it comes across as more vulnerable than it does cocky. He still doesn't know how to handle vulnerable in Steve.

  Not since before we started talking.

  There it is. In bright black and white, spelled out, his heart for anyone to see.

  He turns the phone off and runs shaking hands through his hair, because as desperate as he is to know what Steve would say to that--he isn't sure he's ready to know.

  ~*~

  When he turns the phone on, there are fourteen messages.

Fourteen and his heart, a twitchy, unstable thing since he turned the damn thing off finally settles.

  Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad?

  I want to keep you all to myself.

  I know you have Pete, have Rhodes--but I hate them sometimes, for seeing you, for getting to see your smiles and hearing your laugh. Is that stupid?

  You asked what i'd want if I were there. i wish I could show you, baby. I wish I could touch you.

  We're leaving here, soon. I don't know where we're going.

  Tony, please talk to me. I know you're scared, sweetheart, but I promise I'd never hurt you.

  You got no reason to trust me. I know that.

  There's--we--

  PICTURE ATTACHED

  He stares at the picture for a long time. Barnes is in it, his hair loose and the glinting metal arm unmistakable. It makes his fingers tremble, and he squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the soldier that Steve chose, blocking out the sunset that he wants to share.

  I want to go home. I'm so tired, Tony.

  And scared. I wish--I wish things were different.

  i need to talk to you and i'm so scared.

  I know--we have to talk. Not like this. But soon. We have to talk.

  We're going out on a mission. I'll text when we get home.

  Tony stares at it, at the rambling confessions and the naked fear in his messages and that damn picture of Barnes and a sunset so beautiful it takes his breath away and he tries to make it all make sense.

But Steve Rogers stopped making sense to him a long fucking time ago.

  ~*~

  The Accords are finalized on a day three weeks after Steve goes radio silent.

It's anti-climatic. After months of negotiating, after sleepless nights and endless phone calls and meetings with his legal team, with other enhanced people, with senators and survivors and foreign diplomats--after everything--it's something he can sign without feeling like he's signing away a part of his soul.

It's something he can sign and he thinks--it might even be something Steve would be willing to sign.

The Rogues are granted immunity, a full pardon. Even Barnes, conditional on having his triggers removed and attending mandated therapy to work through almost a century of torture and abuse.

It's better than Tony expected, if he's honest.

He thinks--it might be better than they deserve.

But Barnes is Steve's best friend, and as angry as he was , he knows that the murder of his parents doesn't belong at the Soldier's feet. That was Hydra. He was just the murder weapon.

He reaches for his phone, and send the first message since Steve vanished.

  I did it. The Accords--they're finalized. I protected as many as I could--the children and the innocent. The Rogues--you can all come home.

  He hesitates a moment and then sends a second message.

  I'm sorry it took so long. I miss you. Come home soon.

  Then he slips it in his pocket and fixes a smile on his face as he steps into a crowded press room to tell the world the news.

  ~*~

  He is disgustingly sober when he sends another text.

  You said once, you missed home. And I--maybe you don’t consider the Tower home. Not anymore. But it is. For you--it will always be a home for you.

  ~*~

  He's sleeping when the phone rings. It's FRIDAY who wakes him, under strict orders that when Steve's number comes through, none of his privacy protocols applied.

He fumbles for it, squinting at the too bright screen and it takes him entirely too long to realize--it's not a text message.

The phone is ringing .

He almost drops the phone but he manages to answer it, and his voice is steady when he says, "Rogers?"

There's a beat of silence, and then a broken sounding sob. Fear crackles down his spine, and he straightens up in bed, voice urgent, "Steve? Talk to me."

"He's--" the voice is wrong, too deep, gritty gravel deep and it shivers in his belly. "It's Barnes. Steve--Stevie got hurt."

There's a flash of fury, that Barnes is on the other end when all he wants is Steve. And a flare of worry, white hot and all consuming, and he can barely breathe through the gut punch of it.

Barnes is still making that hurt sound, almost crying, and he closes his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Mission. We went on the mission, and he--it went wrong. We got captured."

"How bad is it?" Tony asks, because James fucking Barnes is asking him for help. Steve might very well be dying.

"Bad," he says, soft and scared. "I--Tony, I think he's dying."

No.

No.

Not now.

Not when they could finally fix everything.

No .

"Bring him here," Tony says. "You--all of you. Come home."

"Tony," Barnes breathes, and he can hear the hesitance in his tone, and he doesn't have time for this, Steve doesn't have time for this.

"Where are you?" he demands, and Bucky pauses for just a moment.

Just long enough for fear to crystalize in his gut.

And then, "Belfast. We're in Belfast."

Relief makes him dizzy and he nods. "Quinnjet is on it's way. I'll have Cho here before you touch down. Keep him alive until you get here."

Bucky hesitates, and then, "We need to talk."

"Nothing to say," he says, and there's a long silence and he fills it. "I'll see you when you land."

He tosses the phone down and goes to the bar and pours the first--only--drink he'll allow himself.

His hand shakes so badly he almost drops it.

When his hands are finally steady and the whiskey sits in melting ice on the kitchen table and the sun begins to peek through the skyline--he calls Rhodey.

  ~*~

  Rhodey is by his side when the quinnjet lands.

He leans into Tony, a subtle reminder of his presence, when the ramp extends. Natasha and Clint come down first, and he twitches, staying in place only because they look like hell. Sam Wilson comes next, Steve carried in his arms, arms twisted around his neck. He’s breathing, but there’s blood covering both of them, and a limpness to Steve that worries Tony.

The way that Sam’s head is dipped toward him, the way that Steve clings to the other man--that stabs like a knife in his gut, and he blinks against the pain of it.

It doesn’t make sense, that kind of intimacy.

Or maybe it does.

Maybe the texts meant nothing.

It wouldn’t be the first time Tony misgauged his worth to Steve.

“Thanks,” Sam says, “For letting him--we appreciate it. You didn’t have to.”

Steve peers at him through tired, bloodshot eyes. “You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”

“I told you--”

“Tony,” a low voice says, and he registers, dimly, that Bucky has emerged from the quinnjet, that he’s staring with something desperate in his eyes.

“The tower is your home. It always will be.”

Steve frowns, confusion bright in his eyes, and says, dumbly, “What?”

Tony’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and his fingertips tingle. Sam’s grip has tightened on Steve, holding him a little closer, his gaze on Tony cool and possessive.

“In--the text? Did you not get it?”

He sounds so small. So confused. He hates it.

Steve coughs. “Tony, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The world spins a little, and months, months of confessions and teasing and healing shifts, adrift suddenly.

He fumbles for his phone and a hand--metal, silver, warm, heavy--comes over his hand, stopping him.

“He lost the phone,” Barnes says, and the pounding gets louder. There’s a small black phone in Bucky’s hand, ancient tech that makes Tony twitch, but it’s--

It’s.

“No,” he says, flatly, and Rhodey shifts closer. “ No.”

Steve is saying something, and Barnes is standing too close, and he can’t fucking breathe, and then--

Bucky reaches for him and Tony--

Tony punches him in the jaw.

#text me maybe #arei writes fic #winteriron #tony stark x bucky barnes #winteriron fic #texting #getting together

[luobingmeis]

hawk in the raven nest, chapter twenty-four

chapter summary: tragic: causing or characterized by extreme distress or sorrow

A/N: hey guys!!! im so sorry that i had to postpone today's chapter, i was had classes and then a swim meet and was out from 8am to 11pm last night and passed out the moment i got in

read on ao3

previous chapter

chapter list

Ever since Kevin began his time as a Fox on the starting line, the Ravens made it a habit of watching their games. Riko was the one who enforced that. Their teammates believed that it was so Riko could laugh at Kevin’s misfortune; Kevin left the best Class I Exy team for the last place Foxes, what was there that Riko couldn’t laugh at? Nathaniel, however, knew it was because Riko was paranoid. Kevin was always a threat to Riko, but before the Foxes, Kevin was a threat that Riko believed he could beat down. Now, with Kevin as an opponent, and an opponent who was drastically improving a team meant to amount to nothing, Kevin was a danger to Riko.

Riko became obsessive when watching the Foxes’ games. He kept note of every win and loss, the length of each point gap, which team they were playing and how they had fared against the Ravens. With each game that the Foxes won, and with that each large point gap, Riko grew less and less happy with his results.

With the Foxes winning game against Binghamton, Riko’s nerves were through the roof. He was past the point of a violent outbreak; at this stage, everything was internalized. His hands were clenched on the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. His eyes stared blankly at the screen as their teammates chattered around him in the lounge. Maybe they were nervous, too, but didn’t want to let on; maybe they didn’t see Kevin as a threat yet. Either way, Riko was panicking because championships were getting very close and the Foxes were going to be in the death matches. With the path they seemed to be going on, they might be able to get past Penn State. The Trojans could be the ones that stop them, but even that was too close for Riko’s liking.

Attention was brought back to the screen when none other than Kevin Day came back on it. He was the one who the reporters decided to interview that night. He was sweaty, with some pieces of hair clinging to his forehead. His green eyes shone with victory, and he flashed an award winning grin at the camera. The two on his cheek stared at them all, showing where he had come from, and where he was now.

“Kevin, what an amazing game the Foxes played tonight!” the reporter beamed, happiness obvious on her face at being able to interview Kevin Day.

“Thank you,” Kevin grinned, swooping his hair out of his face. “We’ve all worked really hard for this game.”

“Talk about working hard!” she exclaimed. “Look at you! Last year, no one thought you would ever step onto a court again. Now, here you are, right-handed, and picking up speed with the Foxes, who finally seem to really deserve their Class I rank. It seems that you’ve really been pushing your fellow teammates.”

“Actually, we all push each other. You see, while I definitely push the Foxes to be better, they push me, too, not just with their own drills, but with stamina in a game. The Foxes are really big on endurance training. Coach Wymack really emphasizes on it considering how few of us there are, some of us are out here playing full games with no subs. So, yeah, when I got here I was getting good training in. Not only was I coming off of not being able to play for months, but I also hadn’t gone on long runs in forever. Years ago, before we were even on the Ravens, Riko and I would go running around campus. But once we were official Ravens and had night practices, we haven’t done it since. We had no time, we would spend our time on the court before we would even think of going running. The Foxes and Coach Wymack really helped me get back to where I needed to be, I’m so thankful to be able to play again.”

The reporter wouldn’t realize what Kevin had said, and how it didn’t match up. She would realize it when she went over tapes, or had someone write an article about Kevin bouncing back from a hit and run that happened while Riko and Kevin were on their usual late nights runs. While she was talking about it, or someone was writing about it, they would realize the discrepancy in that story when they noticed that Kevin said very clearly that he and Riko hadn’t ran together in years.

At that moment, though, she just nodded along with a grin on her face. Captain Danielle Wilds came into view, but Nathaniel didn’t catch what she was asked. All eyes were on Riko, because while the reporter wouldn’t catch the discrepancy, it was all the Ravens noticed. They were told by Riko himself that something terrible had happened to Kevin, by Tetsuji that Kevin was struck by a car while they were on their usual run. Yet, Kevin himself, the injured party, blew that truth out of the water in just a couple sentences.

“Didn’t you say that you and Kevin would go on runs all the time?” Jenkins asked.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Riko managed out, his eyes locked on the TV.

“He seemed very confident in what he had to say,” Andrew unexpectedly said from besides Nathaniel.

“Shut up!” Riko shouted, and Nathaniel didn’t miss some of their teammates flinching. He wondered if Riko felt his own validity crumbling to pieces. Riko looked over at where Nathaniel and Andrew were sitting, except his eyes weren’t on Andrew. He was staring directly at Nathaniel. Riko didn’t know that Andrew knew everything, he didn’t know that Nathaniel and Andrew were constantly speaking with Kevin; Riko thought that everything that really happened with Kevin was just a secret between him and Nathaniel. He was waiting for Nathaniel to say something, to say anything that would give up Riko’s crumbling alibi. It was a threat; if Nathaniel said one wrong thing, Riko would kill him. Riko wanted to see if Nathaniel was smart enough to stay quiet.

Nathaniel had an attitude problem, but luckily for him, he knew when to save his remarks for a later date when they would be more beneficial. To reveal the truth now would give Riko an opening to destroy Nathaniel; Nathaniel was smarter than that.

Nathaniel met Riko’s eyes and said nothing. For right now, he would leave Riko the satisfaction of thinking that he scared Nathaniel into silence. He would let Riko try to convince his teammates that Kevin was delusional, because inevitably he would fail.

The lie that had been formed was finally being broken apart. The end never looked so clear and bright.

--

In the morning, Tetsuji was forced to call off another practice. Instead of practicing, the Ravens were corralled into their lounge. Nathaniel was sitting on one of the loveseats with Andrew at his side. Riko was alert, sitting tense on one of the recliners. The rest of the athletes were groggy with sleep, but anyone with a mind could see what was happening.

The door from above swung open, and all heads turned to the staircase. Down walked Edgar Allan’s Director of the Board of Education and the Athletics’ Director. After them came Tetsuji; he looked emotionless, though Nathaniel had a feeling it was just a facade. Even he had to know what was coming for them.

The Education Director stared down the athletes. “After the departure of two of your athletes, one with severe injuries, one in need of ‘time away’, we grew suspicious. We planned to have done this already, but we were told it would have been of no use,” he said, sliding a look to Tetsuji. “Now, though, it either seems that it was of use, or one of your top athletes doesn’t know how he broke his hand. We have a warrant from the board to search through your dormitories-” He held up a piece of paper. In his other hand were black garbage bags. “-You all will stay here as we do so, and no one is permitted to take anything from their dorm or leave.” He paused. “This team is in hot water right now. Even if all of you are confident in that nothing incriminating is in these dorms, it would bode best for all of you to listen and comply.”

Nathaniel hoped that they would see Riko as incriminating evidence, but he didn’t know if they could remove a person and take him to the Board of Education for inspection.

The Athletics’ Director looked over the athletes in front of him, and his eyes came to a stop at Nathaniel. It had only been a few days since Riko hit him, and the bruise on his jaw was an unmissable, ugly green. The Director didn’t say anything, but Nathaniel imagined that he would take note of that.

Both directors waited a moment longer, a dare to see if any of the athletes would disapprove. When they were satisfied with no one’s response, they headed down the hall that led to the red dormitories. They were the dorms for the athletes with two digit numbers; the ones suspected to leave no impact on the Exy world. They weren’t the reasons for the Directors being down in the Nest, but maybe the two of them hadn’t heard about their corrupt captain.

It wasn’t long until the Directors came back to the lounge. The bags in their hands looked empty, perhaps one or two items that were prohibited thrown in, but nothing major. Nathaniel didn’t expect them to find anything there in the first place. The black dormitories would grant them much more success in their search. The single digit players were the ones expected to yield success, five (now three) of which were expected to be stars in the Exy world, three of which were expected to earn the Moriyamas money, one of which was a Moriyama. The Directors would have fun in that wing.

Nathaniel believed some bloodstained clothes were still tossed in a pile somewhere in his room. Laundry was such a hassle sometimes.

Nathaniel also knew that Riko had knives somewhere in his room, along with who knows what else, and that Kevin’s belongings were still in their shared room.

The Ravens watched as they entered the black wing. Nathaniel shifted his eyes to Riko, who was staring blankly down the hall. The tension in the room seemed to shift from bad to worse. Just twenty-four hours before, the Ravens who were not Perfect Court hadn’t expected anything. They believed that Kevin broke his hand in a hit-and-run. They knew Riko was violent but they didn’t know the extent of it. Nathaniel found himself wondering if they knew what he did to Jean. He wasn’t going to ask to find out.

But now, everything had changed. Kevin had revealed that perhaps Tetsuji -who was standing perfectly still, watching over his team- and Riko had lied about what happened to him. Their rooms were being searched for evidence that the Ravens were a corrupt team, and how it was to be found in their captain’s room. Nathaniel always knew the corruption in the Ravens and how it tiered down from the Moriyamas, and he saw how blind they all were to it when they all believed Tetsuji’s words with no question, but now they couldn’t trust who they were forced to.

In this room, everyone’s lives were being flipped around. The rest of the Ravens couldn’t be blind, or play blind, any longer. Their team was at stake, and if Nathaniel knew any of these people, they either played Exy or they died. There was no way they could turn away from the corruption and the violence when there was a chance they would lose their only way of breathing easy.

What a tragic life these Ravens lived.

A couple minutes passed and the directors came back. Their bags were significantly more filled. The Athletics’ Director sweeped a cool gaze over everyone in the room before landing on Tetsuji. “We need to speak with you about some of the… belongings your athletes had, specifically in that room at the end.”

The room at the end was Riko’s.

Tetsuji nodded once. He followed them up the stairs.

When the door swung close, eyes shifted from one to another but, in the end, they fell upon their captain. Nathaniel turned to Riko and opened his mouth. The words he said next could have been borderline suicidal if Riko wasn’t under such heavy scrutiny. His next words told Riko that he had no secrets any longer; everything that he had done was bound to be brought to surface:

“Careful Riko, everyone’s watching.”

Riko said nothing, but he did tense his jaw. Out of his peripheral vision, Nathaniel saw Andrew give the smallests of nods to Riko.

It was enough to show that this secret between Riko and Nathaniel was never really between them at all. It was a sign that Riko was never as subtle as he hoped.

Nathaniel wondered if Riko’s stomach flipped at his fall from grace, or if it fell freely because, in the back of his mind, he knew everything would come crashing down at one point.

#neil josten #andrew minyard #riko moriyama #aftg #tfc #hawk in the raven nest #stuff i write

[talkativelock]

Iwaoi #12, please? :>

#12 - writer and editor au

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru coos into the phone as he picks up, “what can I do for my favorite author today?”

Hajime’s voice comes through with that irritated tone it only seems to get after he gets his corrections back. “What the fuck is this, Shittykawa?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tooru says breezily, gesturing at the closest intern to bring him a coffee. He does in fact know what Hajime means but it’s important that Hajime thinks that he is completely oblivious.

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

Oh, well. It was worth a try.

Tooru sighs into the phone, making sure to sound as harassed as possible. Sometimes if he sounds overworked Hajime goes easy on him. “Iwa-chan, we also have to think of the marketability.”

“I don’t give a fuck about marketability.” Is Hajime’s immediate response.

“I know you don’t, but think about those poor people down in advertising. How are they supposed to sell your new book? The premise is too complicated for a blurb-”

“I’m not writing for a blurb.” Hajime grumbles into Tooru’s ear. “And I’m not adding a romantic subplot just to give you sex appeal to sell my book on.”

Tooru sighs again. “Iwa-chan, how else are we supposed to convince people to buy your book in the modern age.”

“If people buy my book it’s because they are interested in it and want to read it,” Hajime says crossly.

“And how are they supposed to know if they would be interested in it if there’s nothing we can advertise about it?”

Tooru wants to crow checkmate as Hajime falls silent. He can practically hear the gears in Hajime’s brain turning.

The intern comes back with Tooru’s coffee but Tooru tries desperately to wave him off and find a pen at the same time because Hajime is talking. He’s got that tone in his voice that reminds Tooru that under Hajime’s gruff exterior there’s a multiple award winning author. He’s about to do their advertising team’s job for them.

“Tell them that they can sell my book on the concept of loyalty over assured victory, on the fact that the only thing that Ryo’s effort doesn’t win him is the war and how what is right isn’t always the path to success. Then tell them to shut the fuck up an do their own god damn jobs.”

Tooru chuckles down at his messy notes. “Iwa-chan, sometimes I forget how smart you are. I could kiss you right now.”

Hajime sputters over the phone. “Don’t say shit like that, dumbass.”

Tooru glosses over Hajime’s flustered swearing. “You don’t have to add the romantic subplot but don’t think that gets you out of fixing that one action scene. It was extremely confusing and I expect better.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I believe in you, Iwa-chan.”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

Tooru laughs at Hajime’s grumbling. “You’re so mean to your editor, Iwa-chan.”

“You deserve it,” Hajime grunts back but his voice has lost his edge and it makes Tooru’s smile soften a little bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfect.”

I’m filling more prompts from this list today~!

This ficlet has now been archived on ao3 here.

#iwaoi #fic prompt #haikyuu #lock writes fic #this is my life omg #add some sex #no one will read it if there isn't something we can easily market #i don't care Evie #anyway #have some iwaoi #amagnetism #questions comments and concerns