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girl-with-cat-eyes · 3 years

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Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

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“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #16:

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A/N: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii babies!!!!!!!!!! Let’s fucking goooooooooooooo! I’m excited for y’all to read this juicy marathon. As of right now, I am unsure of how many collections it will be but it’s going to be one of the longest marathons ii. Check back every 20 minutes or so if you caught this immediately. Oh and I will be trying again to put my post under a read more but if it fucks up an deletes half the chapter again I am DONE and I TRIED okay??? xo

***ALSO I did not add my taglist to the last marathon so you guys might have missed collections 13-15!!!!***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Your Losty Heartbreak and Your Spy Kids Debut 😎🖊📚

Sigh. The curse of being a young adult, I tell ya.

You are annoyed.

Yes, two months after the breakup you are still completely heartbroken, even though, yes, it was your genius idea to break up with the love of your life: a man that girls only dream about having as a S/O….

but it was a selfless decision.

Aone Takanobu deserved more, better… than you. That was your rationale.

It’s not fair of you to just accept the perfect man because he was lost enough to lock onto you and not someone on his level.

While it was a selfless decision , it was still a decision you selfishly regretted because …you were so in love with that man at the time that you did it….

You are….

But you will stifle those emotions so that he can get over you and hopefully see his own worth.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be annoyed. Because you were. And at what, exactly? Well:

After dating and breaking up with him, Aone had females constantly approaching him. A/N: Not constantly but it felt that way for you ofc lol

You guess it’s nice that the females of Date Teko gave him the courtesy of one month to get over you but STILL!

Kusa and Katana said that Takanobu’s admirers shot up because everyone witnessed how he treated you, how amazing he was to you, and they fell for that along with his looks.

Your ex’s new admirers are hoping they can get a man that just as inwardly beautiful as he is outwardly and hopefully he will like them, too

In other words: They want what you had.

And what did you want?

Well:

You wanted to rip some hair out. Yours or theirs? You’ll leave that up to subjective interpretation.

EVERY TIME you walked past your ex—that you still love—’s locker there was some brat or another staring up at him in admiration like he was Mount fucking Everest.

You wanted to scream.

but isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N? Your Mountain man to find someone else? Your conscience would ask.

Shut the hell up, conscience. You’d bark back.

You heard from Katana who was keeping tags on his every admirer that he denied them all dates (which defeats the purpose of your break-up, but you smiled nonetheless) but that Aone did agree to host a study session with a group of girls that apparently begged/needed his help in all subjects before finals.

give me a fucking break, you and your conscious agreed.

“Ugh. He’s too kind for his own good. Can’t he see those girls just want an excuse to be near him?!?!” You raged about the study session as you peered closely through the passenger side window to make sure that Kusa got inside her house safely. It was 6pm, and you had just heard the news while on the way home from dinner at your favourite restaurant. Katana drove. From her doorstep, Kusa waved at you before closing her door.

This Saturday, your best friends forced you on your first outing since the breakup, dressing you and even doing your makeup despite your complaining about leaving the house. You had to admit that the food that you did order at the restaurant was decent enough, but really—you would much prefer to still be in bed, flipping through pictures of Aone and Perdu and having a good cry.

Katana rolled her eyes as she stopped at a red light, responding to your initial question. “Ugh. Yeah, they are smarter than we thought. But you’re okay with this, right? I mean this is what you said you wanted when you broke up with him. You said you want him to find a new girl,”” Katana fished for your true feelings, sounding a lot like your annoying conscience.

You sulked, picturing other females near the man you are in love with. It made you sick. But, instead, you said, “Of course I am Okay with it. I want him to be the happiest he can be.”

Katana fixed her eyes on the road and bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t laugh.

You had no idea why you weren’t being fully honest with your friends, but perhaps it made you believe it more the more you said it aloud. “I know Kusa had that assignment to do tonight… and you have that one with Kenji tomorrow, right? so do you want to come over? My mom got me another tub of cookie dough ice cream, and we can rewatch Bad Girls Club again.” You asked Katana in that voice that meant you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Katana smirked. It was an evil smirk. “I’ll do you one better.”

“Uhhh… Katana….you missed my turn.” Your eyes widened when the cheer captain passed your street, and then passed her own street a few seconds later. “Katana!”

“Word on the cheer team is that Aone-san’s first study session ends in 20 at the local library. I wanna check it out.”

“What?! No you will not—!” You yelled, but you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that flew through your body thinking about seeing that man again. It was always like this.

“—Oh, lighten up— it’s not like I will be joining the damn study session.”

“You won’t?” You asked, surprised.

“Obviously not! Muri is studying something else there, so I need to give her back her notes anyway. It’s only a plus that I’ll get to see how desperate those girls are being with my besties ex. Incognito, kay? I was going to drop you off first and go, but it looks like you don’t wanna be alone. Right?”

Your pretty best friend waited a few seconds for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she nodded. “Exactly.” She turned into the school’s practically empty parking lot, finding her favourite spot. “So, you can stay in the car. No prob. And I won’t tell you anything about it.”

You frowned, watching as Katana reached in the backseat for her purse so that she could take out the notes she had for Muri.

“Okay,” you whispered anxiously.

“I’ll be like, 10 minutes.” The brunette removed her keys from the ignition and stepped outside of her car.

You stayed where you were as Katana’s figure disappeared into the one of the Date Teko’s many entrances. You began to think about what your friend was going to see in there: Aone leaning over the shoulder of pretty Date Teko girls? Helping them with their homework the way he would help you? These girls smelling his fresh icy mountain scent, and leaning in closer, the way you would to him?

Naturally, you began to panic internally.

You pictured the girls twirling their hair flirtatiously and telling him that they didn’t understand when they did, just to keep him hovering over them longer. The same way you used to.

😤😤😤

Your foot started tapping on its own inside Katana’s car, thinking about how your lost ex-boyfriend wouldn’t even pick up any of it as flirting, ugh.

Your imagination created even more concerning visuals: more giggling, more oblivious Aone, more shoulder brushing, more oblivious Aone, and then some more….. yeah. Should it really have come as no surprise that you soon found yourself hidden behind a dusty bookshelf in the anatomy section of your school’s library on a Saturday, squatted down and peeping through the slits between books to catch glimpses of your ex boyfriend hosting a study session?!

You blamed your active imagination.

Behind the dusty shelves, you whimpered because the obstructed vision due to the books covered the white haired beauty perfectly. You held a disgusting book to the right a bit.

“Oh,” your stomach flipped. “He looks so cute.” You put on a 🥺 face when you noticed how utterly adorable a standing Takanobu looked decked out in forest green sweatpants and a matching hoodie with the hood on, and his white hair barely visible.

Your stomach flips were quickly bumped away by sheer annoyance as you saw him then do exactly what brought you up here, just as you thought: innocently leaning down to help a blonde third-year girl you knew by the name of Sutairu Elyts with a question she was asking. She was smiling way too much for someone doing boring ass school work on Saturday, you noted. Flipping her hair, giggling, and obnoxiously putting her cleavage in Aone’s line of sight. You picked up the dusty library book that was obstructing your view and stopped yourself from tossing it at Sutairu— instead choosing to toss it to the side without a care in the world, trying to get a closer look at how close the girl was going to get while Aone answered her question.

You were close to literally poking your head through the bookshelf hole completely, when someone to the left of your hiding spot cleared their throat very loudly. You jumped, bumping your head and hissing in pain.

You removed your head from the bookshelf and looked up at the cause of your newfound migraine.

There stood Katana, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “You got here faster than I thought,” She reached down to help you up. “Now, come on. None of this amateur shit. You know my style. When it comes to cute boys: make it obvious, and make it count.”

***

Aone was in the middle of teaching Algebra to a group of students (he doesn’t register the fact that they are all conveniently female and all too well dressed for a study session) who had desperately begged him for his help, to the point where the teacher just asked Aone to do it.

He didn’t mind, the teacher offered him extra credit and everyone he was teaching was nice, they didn’t mind him being pretty silent, plus Kenji fully supported it. So why not? Aone mainly supported it because it was a great distraction from his broken heart and his plan….

Or so he thought it would be—before he spotted you in the library.

His heart skipped a beat because he absolutely was not expecting to see you today. His plan wasnt supposed to be put into action until Monday! Trying not to freak out, Aone watched you enter from a side that wasnt the entry way—which is pretty odd—but he shoved the thought to the side anyway because there you were, looking busy.

“Wow.” Takanobu couldn’t stop himself from mouthing when his eyes found you. He mouthed it to himself, of course, but it caused the observant participants in his study group to whip around to see what he was looking at.

you were dressed pretty casually, coming from dinner with the girls, but Aone hadn’t seen you dressed in anything other than your school or cheer uniforms since your breakup, so it took him by surprise

Not to mention you looked really, really, really good:

Aone watched you scan the bookshelves with Katana—which, if Takanobu was thinking straight— he would realistically call bs on you ever coming to the library for no reason, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday— but you looked too gorgeous to him to care

Now that he is working alongside you in a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression a bit, simply because your mere presence made him feel whole again, so he basked in the delight he felt any time he was able to see you.

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you want to be with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again.

The premise of Aone’s plan presides on the idea that you are the only girl he wants. Therefore, he just has to prove that to you. Silently. Strategically.

So that’s the only reason why Aone was able to to shift his focus right now and look away from you, effectively returning to helping his study group and making them forget you even walked in.

Aone’s mission is to become the man that you want and need, naturally. He will exude more confidence: which is a testament to the fact that he was here right now: tutoring a bunch of girls who have asked him out and he has rejected before because of you,

He wants word to get back to you that your ex is the type of guy who knows how to be just friends with people who had feelings for him. Just in case you wanted to start there with him.

He wants to be your friend. Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if that’s all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that is what he would willingly accept!

Aone forced himself to look back down, getting up to step around the circular table to help with the other girls’ study guides.

He was able to keep his cool for the most part, but almost lost it twice...

Once when you dropped a book and bent down to pick it up, showcasing how amazing your butt looked in those jeans.

Aone cleared his throat to get his own attention back and turned away quickly when he felt a familiar stir under his sweatpants. He stuffed his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and directed his energy back to the paper in front of him. He erased an answer for one of his students and plugged in the correct one.

The second time Takanobu almost lost his cool was when he heard you make a cute noise and his eyes flicked back up to you. You were trying to reach a book that was too high for you but probably met the height of his ear, your hand above your head, your bodyweight on your toes which gravitationally rose your top up as well, exposing the naked skin on your lower back.

Aone’s throat went dry and he bit back a groan because the last time he’d stared at that lower back of yours so intensely: you were in a perfect arch, naked, using his dick to pleasure yourself when he told he was on the phone.

Cue hands in pockets again.

He recalled how that section of your back had a light layer of sweat on it back then, making it glisten as he bit his lip, trying not to moan to the feeling of your tight and juicy walls running up and down his length. Holy, shit, that feel good.

Aone began thinking about helping you get that book and then fucking you against that bookshelf you were leaning on: holding you up in his arm, the other hand used to place it behind your head as a cushion so that you did not harm yourself when he sheathed his big dick inside your absolutely perfect box, so hot and so delicious, and soo hard not to cum inside within the first minute…..

👁👅👁 Aone’s eyes glazed over to the point where one of his tutor-ies had to snap their fingers in front of his face.

Highly embarrassed, Takanobu pulled it together ASAP, muttering a quick and sincere apology and thinking only of his plan. Trusting in his plan, he refused to look up in your general direction again. He didn’t trust himself to.

***

“He barely looked my way….” You sobbed into your cookie dough ice cream later that night, Katana rubbing your back and removing your hair out the tub.

“Please, Y/N,” Katana begged, absolutely gutted seeing her best friend like this. “Please be honest with yourself and make sure you truly stand by the decision you made.”

———————————

A New Aone and a Perfect Plan? ✅🤩

Mountain Man put absolutely all of his energy into his plan to get you back. His understanding is that you broke up with him because he wasn’t good enough for you, so that means he would just have to make himself good enough for you. While Kenji was completely against Aone trying to get back the girl who broke his heart, Kenji found himself agreeing with the plan since it meant that his best friend would be speaking, playing volleyball, and overall living life again while it was in action. The plan was to essentially fake it till you make it—show you that Takanobu could be the man you deserved.

The gist of the plan was for Aone to disallow himself to be zombie-like anymore, because you probably didn’t like that. He started spending more time with his friends again, and he was eating again. He was banking on this plan, and if it didn’t work—sure, he’d be crushed for the rest of his life—but at least he’d have no regrets. It wouldn’t be easy, he’d have to speak back to other females kindly letting them down when all he wanted to do was speak to you. He’d have to ignore you when you walked by which meant going against his every instinct, and he’d have to speak to you confidently in class when you two were working on the project and small talk about your lives, when all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you until he could taste you even when he pulled away.

Thoughts of you consumed him, still, but they were now hopeful thoughts. He was not going to let his dream girl walk away that easily.

A/N: GO BABY GOOOOO

You, on the other hand, took this new and confident Aone as a sign that he was getting over you. He didn’t seem very sad anymore, you didn’t see that same dejected and lost eyes you saw when he pushed his best friend away from you. You saw intensity there, like he was now focused on a new task in his life. It confused you, and it hurt like a bitch, because deep down you knew he’d move on soon and you wouldn’t.

But this is what you wanted, right? 🙄🙄Repeated your conscience, again. You really wanted to fight her.

“Y/N, you seem out of it today.” Mountain Man stopped writing the outline of the content analysis in class to stare down at you. You could see the concern in his eyes, but you refused to believe it was anything more than the concern anyone would feel for an ex turned friend, and nothing more.

Embarrassed, you realized that you must have zoned-out, and now this gorgeous man that you wanted to jump was calling you out on your odd behaviour. “W-was I?’ You shook your head then looked down in your lap. “Sorry.”

Aone placed his pencil down, heart pounding because he wanted that frown of yours to disappear so badly. “Is it about your University Cheerleading tryouts?” He asked kindly, too kindly—if you had any hope of getting over him in the next 5 years.

You looked up at him, confused as to why he’d even mention that.

The white haired beauty blushed. “Kogane—he, uh, well…” Aone took a second to look away and collect his thoughts because your big beautiful eyes were making him lose his train of thought. He reminded himself of his plan and collected himself, returning to your gaze. “Kogane-san mentioned to Kenji and I this morning that Kusa needed someone to film her audition tape, because that is the only way cheerleaders are able to send in your tryouts for schools that are too far away, correct?”

“Oh,” You nodded. “Ya—“

Aone continued without missing a beat. “I know Kogane is helping film Kusa’s, and you mentioned yesterday that Katana is out of town for a camp… so, and feel free to say no: but I’d love to offer you my help, Y/N. With filming and editing.”

There was a pause in which you just looked at Aone with those big beautiful eyes that he thinks about 24/7.

Afraid that he might be coming onto way too strong, which goes against his super slow plan, Takanobu adds: “As friends. Offer you my help as friend.”

Your heart sunk, but he looked so sweet asking, not to mention you really did need to get on that tryout instead of pushing it off until you miss it completely and don’t end up going to University—

If you didn’t get a cheer scholarship you were screwed; Aone knew this. Not to mention you would love to see him more; Aone did not know this.

“I’ve taken photography as my elective for the past three years and do pretty well in that class in terms of grades, so I just thought…” Mountain Man was scared shitless, nervously listing off his accomplishments like this was an interview…. mostly due to the fact that you hadn’t answered him yet. Too fast, she can tell you want her back—now she’ll never give you another chance. Failure. Aone opened his mouth to retract his offer, but you interrupted him before he could get the first word out.

“Um, yes. Sure. I’d love your help, Aone-san. I promise it won’t take long. Thank you so much.”

Aone nodded even though he was bursting at the seams inside. Mountain Man couldn’t believe it. After being broken up with because your feelings weren’t there, you agreed to spend non-school related time with him?! The middle blocker couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have said yes, had he still been acting like a zombie. Actually, he wouldn’t even have dared asked, if he was still acting like a zombie. Now he gets to help you and see you more than he has since the breakup, and he considers this like a gift! Yes!

“Great. Just tell me where and when you would like to have your audition, and I will be there.” A very cool reply.

You even rewarded him even more with a smile. “How about next Tuesday? Here on the field since it’s getting warm out again? I need to rehearse a lot and that gives me enough time.”

“Understood.” A cool second later, Takanobu had to excuse himself to the washroom so that he could celebrate in silence. He texted his friends and took a deep breath.

Selfishly, Aone also wanted to help you with this particular audition because he wanted you to go to the same University as he and Kenji. He wanted to help you with your future assignments and he wanted to see you everyday. How great would that be? A little torturous, too. But if you were on a cheer team and happy, then: mostly great.

Baby steps, Mountain Man sighed contentedly. He would get you back in baby steps, and this was the first one.

He just had to keep following the plan.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon 💛

Outtake #17: CLICK HERE!

#aone takanobu x you #aone takanobu stories #aone takanobu #aone takanobu fluff #haikyuu boys #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#hq headcanon #aone x reader #aone x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcannons #haikyuu headcannons #koganegawa kanji #kenji futakuchi #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu series

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 18]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

I have homework due tomorrow, so let’s go.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

“You are the worst partner,” Janus hissed. “When I’m right you owe me 10 loafs of your fresh bread.”

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head. He still wasn’t happy about the state of things, but he could feel himself cooling down a bit.

Khalid came out of the integration room after a few minutes, leaving Pat with Remy. “What was that?” she asked him.

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “For now, we’re letting him go and then going back to looking for the bomb like we’re meant to be.”

“Fine,” Janus relented. “Just do me the favor of tagging him before he leaves. Just that. I beg of you.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If it will calm you down.”

He nodded.

“Then, let’s go,” she said. When they met back up with Remy and Pat, he saw Khalid make the subtle gesture that would tag Pat like they would have for the Millennium Birds. Pat sent him what could pass as a sweet smile if Janus didn’t know better. Then, they walked him outside, leaving Remy on clean-up duty for the make-shift security office.

“So, I’m free to go?” Pat asked. His bemused expression edged far too much on the side of amused verses confused for Janus’s taste.

“You are,” Khalid said. “Have fun at the festivities.”

His hands went flapping about. “Oh, you too!” he said. “Well, I guess you’re working, but you can have fun anyway, I’m sure.”

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

He gave her a blinding smile and reached forward to shake her hand enthusiastically. Janus rolled his eyes and looked up at the heavens. “It was nice to meet you!” he said, “and you too, Remus!” He turned to meet Janus’s eyes. “Macy Misa.”

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

“Well, now that we’re done with that,” Khalid said, turning to them. “We have only a few more hours before midnight and we really need to find the time bomb.

“Oh,” Pat called. He’d paused a few yards away and turned back to them. “Thanks for letting me go so easily by the way,” he said, “and just in the Nick,” he winked, “of time too.” Janus narrowed his eyes at him. He smiled back. “Wrist check,” he said holding up his arm to show off the timepiece there. Khalid immediately looked down at her own wrist just to see that the one timepiece that could move through the time lock was no longer there. Pat made a gesture and disappeared.

All three of them stared at the spot he’d been for a long moment.

Janus was the one to speak first. “I want. The yellow. To be erased. From my record.”

Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

“It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

“He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

“Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

“You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

“Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

“Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

14656

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

“I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

“Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

#study break stories #not writing

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot.

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead.

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects.

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear.

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton.

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay.

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman.

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes.

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?”

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to.

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.”

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!”

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks.

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding.

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy.

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session.

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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pastel9girlbunny000die · 3 years

Text

Age Gap... AU

Part 1

One Piece The Monster trio~

♡The characters are all between 27-29 unless said otherwise

♡The s/o is between 16-18

Warning: ...Kissing and Cuddles? PDA and nakedness, smoking and drinking

***

Monkey D. Luffy🍖

🍖Dating a younger s/o has never really been a problem or something bad for Luffy

🍖Cause his more of a child than you are.

🍖People outside of your friend group always assumed that you guys are good friends or relatives.

🍖When Luffy's friends found out you two where dating, they we're really supportive and made you feel part of a great social group... better than the poeple you hang out at school

🍖Same with Luffy's family. They accepted you as part of the family without hesitation, but still trying to wrap their heads around how you two even started dating???

🍖Umm ugh... Your family not so much... Your parents weren't very happy about you dating an older guy like Luffy.

🍖It made them worry

🍖But! You did reinsurer them it's was all fine. He has a decent job makes enough to support a family has a nice cozy home and a loving personality.

🍖it got them off your back for a while~

🍖Buttttttt~😏

🍖when it comes to Luffy's looks, he looks pretty young for his age already reaching his late twenties.

🍖When telling others that your in fact dating doing all the sweet loving couples stuff, they believe you since he looks like an older classmate from your school.

🍖But when you tell then his infact an working adult... they don't believe you, they just take it as a bad joke.

🍖You never ask your meat brain for help with homework cause you might start fooling around instead of doing it, if his presence is around you during school work or studying.

🍖Luffy doesn't really care about age since he loves you for who you are rather than what age gender or colours you are.

🍖And he does it unconditionally.

🍖He loves it when you cook a big meat feast for a king! or you randomly give him cuddles or cheeks kisses. It makes his heart beat exstra fast and butterfly's fluttering all around in his stomach.

🍖Luffy introduced you to a lot of new food and you love most of the dishes. But also found a few new food allergies you never knew you had.

🍖Let's just say you know the hospital staff pretty well now.

🍖Small loving touches like these matters a lot to him like all the little things you do for him. It makes him extremely happy.

🍖PDA 😏*Public display of affection*

🍖Luffy doesn't mind holding hands or little pecks here and there in public.

🍖But holding his hand comes with consequences... be prepared to be dragged from placed to place in a public shopping mall or market cause he won't let go when he runs from food course to food course.

🍖But when it comes to PDA kissing, he only allows the quick peck on the lips or cheeks he doesn't do the long make out session. His not one to sit still in one place for too long.

🍖His your man child after all.

Roronoa Zoro ⚔

⚔Zoro doesn't care.

⚔He dates you cause you are you.

⚔He has never been really the one to judge based on looks but when he met you he saw nothing but the most beautiful thing in the world.

⚔He has a really direct personality and isn't really the one to talk much or too clingy.

⚔Zoro doesn't have a solid job he switches from part time to part time, and one of his joba is the reason he met his s/o.

⚔He got lost on his way too your school and ended up bumping into you, literally.

⚔He nicely asked for directions and you gladly let him tag along with you, even though he sometimes turns the wrong way.

⚔It turned out he applied as a substitute teacher for a month at the boys kendo club.

⚔So you had a lot of time getting to know each other 😏~

⚔Other than that he hit it off pretty well with his s/o. From hanging out at school during lunch, to after school and weekends.

⚔That's how you ended up asking him out on a date.

(Definitely demanding to pick him up!!!)

⚔Than started dating. You later on met his group of friends which surprised you though to him not being a kind of person to hang out with a loud bunch but thier his life long friends and good people, you ended up liking them quicker than your school friends.

⚔Zoro's parents have already passed away and his is the only child so it was sad that you didn't get to meet his family and thank them for making this hard working lovable idiot.

⚔It took you awhile to work up the courage to let your family meet Zoro. It's not that you care about if they liked him or not all you wanted to know if they'll let you be with him and keep loving your marimo.

⚔Their reactions where priceless. But they were okay with it. Since they knew the swordsman from high school and he wouldn't do anything to seriously hurt you.

⚔Telling others that you and Zoro are indeed a couple is weird to them he has a bleak personality and a horrible attitude along with him being in his late 20s.

⚔You on the other hand are sunshine and rainbows all the time full of energy and always positive.

⚔How does that mix?

⚔In public you guys always gets mistaken for father and daughter/Son. But you brush it off and claiming your a couple.

⚔Which surprised them but they don't push further though to Zoro sending them glares.

⚔One thing you love about Zoro is taking little naps together. Anywhere the couch, bed, floor, bath tub anywhere you start cuddling him he'll fall asleep on you a few minutes after you'd follow.

⚔He tought you Kendo. And let's say you got a new hobby.

⚔You once asked him to help you with homework. Next day you came in with the excuse, "Ma'am my dog ate my homework."

⚔Zoro loves you with all his heart sometimes he can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve you or his holding you back?

⚔But you reinsurer him with him is the happiest you have felt in you life.

⚔PDA 😳*Public display of affection*

⚔His not really good with affection but he doesn't push you off when you want a hug or two maybe even kisses he will allow it.

⚔His also not clinging kind of guy. So waking around in public he won't hold your hand but he will put an arm around your neck.

⚔And in return one of your hands slips into the back pocket of his jeans giving you the opportunity to squeeze his ass whenever you desire.

⚔He let's it slide. With a tiny blush.

⚔While walking around in any public place you always keep an exstra eye on him (like a parent making sure not to lose thier kid in a large place).

⚔Your more relaxed when his arm is around you meaning you'll be near him at all times. But when his not your six sense activate to mama bear mode all eyes on him at every second.

⚔In one day at the mall you caught him almost mindlessly walking off in a random direction or out the store.

⚔You had to chase after him.

⚔PDA Kissing😚~ Like I said he doesn't mind it but when he gets a little drunk he full on gets you sucked into a full blown make out session he doesn't care where. In public, at home, in you home, out with his/your friends even near your parents. Nothing gets in his ways of what he wants.

⚔Not even your embarrassment.

⚔After all your stuck with your Marimo.

Sanji Vinsmoke 🚬

🚬Sanji is a complete different case than the other two mentioned above.

🚬He's a hopeless romantic.

🚬First time you met him he was dress as a okama. A first expression you'll never forget, For awhile you wonder who that woman was and thought you'll never cross paths again

🚬Destiny proofed you wrong.

🚬You met him again at the Baratie one of the most famous restaurants in town.

🚬In the end you guys talked the night away, you probably interacted with him more than the poeple you came with.

🚬Later on he invites you for a free homemade meal, personally made by him.

🚬He also gave you his number~ 😚😏

🚬That's how you met.

🚬And later on you two became closer there was just this unique thing about Sanji that made you like him more.

🚬Yes he treats woman with the at most respect and kindness, randomly complements any woman he comes across.

🚬Like a true gentleman.

🚬But in his eyes you felt different. He flirts more with you, he does small sweet things for you.

🚬And don't forget the mouthwatering lunch boxes you get to take school.

🚬Sanji spoils his s/o with a lot of affection he can't go a day without a hug or kiss, if he doesn't get either one of them he will genuinely worry.

🚬Sanji thinks it's cute that your younger than him, it gives him more of a responsibility vibe when his near you.

🚬He practically treats his young s/o like the rightful queen/King they are.

🚬But that doesn't mean his a little negative when it came to his age, his not that old reaching his late 20s, he has his doubts.

🚬But when he has these bad thoughts you can see it on his face, it made you sad that he thinks you'd leave him for someone younger.

🚬Your response is making him some nice relaxing hot tea and cuddle him in a blanket whispering sweet words of love to him

🚬It lights his mood a bit.

🚬From time to time, Sanji's s/o gets jealous by the way he treats other women, you could be a little selfish just wanting him to only look at you in that way.

🚬You weren't surprised when you met his friends they care about Sanji as much as you did, they also loved you, finally happy that he got a lover so they could stop hearing his complaints about his single life.

🚬And they kinda use him for free meals. Especially Luffy the leader of their little friends group he always whines for meat, it kinda cute.

🚬You can't really ask Sanji for help in school work/homework, his a high school dropout. And the only thing he can actually help with is cooking classes which you hate. But at least your grades picked up in that class

🚬Sanji never let's you meet his biological family, he forbids the topic and avoids it at all cost. But couldn't wait for you to meet Zeff his adopted father, he literally dragged you to his childhood home to meet the old geezer.

🚬Zeff took you in the moment he met you and treated you like his own daughter/son, he also said "Finally I can rest in peace knowing you won't die alone." At Sanji.

🚬Which result in a small argument.

🚬Like Sanji you refuse to let him meet your parents, afraid they won't accept the relationship and force you apart. So you always give him the excuse that you want to wait or not ready yet.

🚬He respect your decision, and won't interfere or go behind your back. If you can wait so will he.

🚬Buttttttttt😱

🚬One night your Dad/Father decided that the family should go out to eat, give your mom/mother a little break from cooking.

🚬You agree to go aswell. Without knowing which restaurant.

🚬Guess where you went😏

🚬Yes... The Baratie!!!

🚬Your soul left your body. I mean Sanji should be off right ? Right ? Its weekend.

🚬But it got worse when you saw a glimpse of him in the kitchen and your eyes meet.

🚬What go worst that your Mom/Mother took a seat in Sanji's section of the restaurant.

🚬Meaning he will serve you.

🚬At this point you give up and just let it be, tonight your life as well as your relationship will come crashing down.

🚬Mindlessly sitting down, at that moment Sanji came bursting through the kitchen doors like a tornado heading towards you

🚬Wrapped his arms around you kissing you all over your face, right in front of your family.

🚬They where far beyond shock.

🚬By the time Sanji let's go of you, you looked like a morning person who just got out of bed, hair messy clothes messy and a blank look on your face.

🚬It didn't take long for them to start drowning you with questions.

🚬In the end you made sure to tell them,

"Mom/Mother Dad/Father, this is Sanji his the head chef of the Baratie, his also m-my boyfriend."

🚬Your mom/Mother got offended that your dating a professional cook, that is most likely better at cooking than her.

🚬Your Dad got offended that your dating someone older close to his age. (He can't really give the if you hurt my little girl/boy I will end you speech, the blonde must've heard it for a long time and just wouldn't be treated by it.)

🚬But they saw how worried you looked holding Sanji's hand tightly, the blonde seemed ready to start a argument if they would be against you two.

🚬In the end they smiled and nodded.

🚬Sanji and his s/o couldn't be more happy as instant took over and you two kissed passionately and long.

🚬Your Dad/Father had to clear his throat reminding you where you are.

🚬You broke apart blushing.

🚬It all ended up happy.

🚬Telling your parents weren't easy but now that you know that thier okay with your relationship made it easier to tell others.

🚬Let me tell you, Yes Sanji is older than you and everyone can tell that by his looks, so they just assume you guys are relatives or brothers/brother and sister.

🚬Sanji always corrects them, Your his lover not family member.

🚬That's when they turn to you asking if his black mailing you.

🚬You just simply say "No."

🚬You don't need to give others an explanation, knowing you two love each other very much.

🚬Despise Sanji's appearance you ignore his good looking hot abs and body and turn to his eyebrows and personally others make fun of how unnatural they are but they are the most lovable features on him that you like the most.

🚬Sanji smokes, and yes you know that. You never complain or ask him to stop, but you did ask him why he does, he simply just said "I started to smoke to piss off the geezer, I was just a stupid teenager at the time."

🚬You don't like cooking so that kinda got Sanji down, but you didn't mind helping out once in awhile.

🚬You love make overs dressing up and looking pretty. Which made him happy that he can share his okama side with you, you love doing his make up. aswell as styling his blonde wig.

🚬That's how he brought you to meet Iva one of his friends at the kamabakka night club.

🚬You really enjoyed it there and all the others you met.

🚬It was really fun seeing Sanji in his more feminine side and dress as a girl.

🚬It made you happy that he even share his most inner self with you.

🚬Sanji is really happy that you accept and love him for who he is.

🚬PDA *Public display of affection*

🚬Sanji is all over you hand holding, kissing, hugging even making out.

🚬He let's you hold hands and doesn't mind random kisses on his cheeks but he personally prefers his mouth over his cheeks.

🚬PDA kissing 😏~ One thing he loves is being taller than you, so when you want to give affection by kissing you have to stand on you tip toes and only able to reach his jawline.

🚬So you just kiss him from his jaw to his collarbone. Secretly leaving a mark😏~

🚬But when you go out with him dress as a Okama he doesn't let you kiss him much or hold hands but he doesn't mind locking arms with you.

🚬Just to know you're near, and save.

🚬He has one hell of a kick, You found out that out when you guys went out to a bar with Iva and some of his other friends (You didn't drink, being a minor and all but you did have a glass of soda or water).

🚬At some point Sanji got up to use the bathroom. And when he got back he saw a drunk guy harassing his s/o

🚬So with one hit he kicked the living hell out of the guy. (It didn't ended well for that guy, must've hurt more with the high heels boots Sanji's was wearing kicked him😵)

🚬And Sanji angrily dragged his s/o home early.

🚬It surprised you since Sanji wasn't really violent around you much, but knowing he'd even get into a fight to protect you. Made you happy and felt loved. He is the blonde cook you fell in love with after all.

***

#One piece #fanfic #male reader #fem reader #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji vinsmoke #luffy #Zoro #Sanji #One piece fanfic #anime

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runfast-runfar · 4 years

Text

Quarantine days

8/23/20

✨I have so much homework already.. 🙃 ahhh

✨I have SIX lecture videos for 1 class already and it’s not even the end of a week in session lol But honestly my teachers seem pretty cool and I like most of the content so that’s good!

✨Needless to say, today was a pretty uneventful day. Woke up at 7:30, laid in bed for a bit snuggling with Thea, then got up at around 8:30 and started my homework.

✨Then I did homework for most of my day. I got 5 out of six of the lectures watched and notes taken. Then I got one of the readings for the Athens unit done (I have maybe 4 readings in total).

✨Then tomorrow I have to watch the last lecture and do the rest of the readings for that class, then I need to move on to another classes homework!! How do you even keep up man!!???!?! 😓

✨Anyways, did homework until midday, then walked downtown to pick up a few things. Bought this new shirt and cardigan a few days ago and I love them :))

✨Came home and did homework for another 2-3 hours before taking a break to go run. But it’s SO bad today with the smoke so I came back home and did a 50 minute yoga class instead. Honestly, I might prioritize yoga over running for the next week or so bc I needed the mental focus and calmness.

✨After yoga I went on to wildland-elements Etsy to buy a few headbands and I was so overwhelmed I ended up just buying all 5 colors I couldn’t decide between lmao. But she has some seriously cute stuff that I 10/10 recommend! It sells so fast though so you’d have to jump on it!

✨It’s almost 8:30pm now and I’m just taking a break from homework. I’m going to finish this post up and then finish the last reading I’m on and call it a day.

✨While I was doing homework at my desk I had this amazing sunset view which made me so happy 🥰 the fires are awful happening right now, do NOT get me wrong, but during fire season in California we seriously get the craziest sunsets. The picture doesn’t do it justice... it was NEON pink!!!

✨Hope you’re all well and have a good week ahead of you guys!

#me #life #personal #runner #running #vegan #recovery #mental health #college #health #yoga #yogi #history major #sjsu #homework #fall 2020 #coronavirus #covid 19

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sope-and-shine · 4 years

Text

You Drive Me Nuts

-> Pairings: Jeongguk x Reader -> Fluff // College!AU -> Word Count: 2.1k -> Summary: With great powers comes great responsibility. And yes, an EpiPen is a responsibility, Jeon Jeongguk. -> Warnings: mild language // responsible use of an EpiPen for an irresponsible reason.

A/N: I have no clue what the process is through anaphylaxis once it gets to the doctors, so I tried my best. I hope you enjoy!

You told him.

You’ve told him on more than one occasion.

You’ve reminded Jeongguk multiple times that it is in no way acceptable for him to eat a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup when he’s allergic to peanuts! He’s 20yrs old, for Christ sake, you shouldn’t have to remind him what he can and cannot eat! Any sane person would think, ‘Oh no, that’ll make my throat close up and I could die’ and turn the candy offer down.

But no.

Not this idiot.

He’s apparently a psychopath!

You were just studying in the cafe waiting for the other boys to join you before you get your food. No harm in that at all. They were always late cutting across campus, so getting some homework out of the way or a quick study session never hurt. Normal day.

Not a problem.

As soon as they all began to make their appearances, you had put away your working materials so you’d be ready to get something to eat. As soon as they all arrived, it was left to Jeongguk to watch your belongings since he was the last to arrive at the table. Nothing new, it was usually between him, Taehyung, and Namjoon to watch the table. Not only that, but he was more than happy to take a seat at the table. You figured he was tired from running across the campus and just wanted to sit. Nothing to worry about.

You should have worried.

You all left him alone for a total of maybe 15 minutes. 15 minutes to get your food so you could enjoy the rest of your day, 15 minutes so he could sit and watch your belongings, 15 minutes for him to be a regular adult, and apparently 15 minutes for him to contemplate asking the table next to yours for the Reese’s and have it open and in one hand with his EpiPen in the other by the time you got back.

“Jeon Jeongguk! You put that Reese’s cup down and wash your hands right now! Are you crazy?!” Your outburst not only catches his attention, but those around you as well. Multiple eyes are on you including his, but his eyes are staring into yours in fear, contemplation, and partial regret.

Jimin comes up next to you with his own lunch, stopping when he sees the predicament. He sighs, “He cannot be serious.”

It’s almost as if you can see the gears turning in Jeongguk’s head, contemplating if he should make his next move or not. You can see the longing in his eyes, and a part of you already knows what he’s about to do before he does it. He pops the treat into his mouth in one bite, and the look of pure joy and elation tells you this exact situation could - and will - happen again. He shouldn’t look as pleased as he does slamming a needle into his thigh, but his smile is all you need to see.

“Jimin, call an ambulance!” You order, rushing to your friend - soon to be dead friend - and dropping your lunch on the table next to him. A million thoughts are running through your head as you take the seat next to him, watching the stupid bunny smile appear on his face. Your first immediate reaction is to choke him, but he’s about to do that himself. So, instead, you settle for hitting the back of his head. “Are you insane?! What possessed you to do that, you psychopath?!”

“My mom never let me eat them, so I-” He coughs, beginning to feel the effects of his allergy trying to battle the epinephrine. “-I wanted to try one…”

“She didn’t let you eat them because YOU ARE ALLERGIC!” You rage. You’re almost completely dumbfounded by this man’s absolute stupidity. How he made it to college, you could never understand after this. You grab his face in your hands and squish his cheeks together to look into his mouth at the back of his throat. “Any good, sensible mother-! No. Scratch that. Any good, sensible PERSON wouldn’t let you eat one!”

He fights a smile, his face still trapped between your hands, “Worth it.”

As the other boys get back from getting their food, they all begin to close in on what happened with the youngest member of the squad. Namjoon, ever the responsible adult he is, sighs when he catches sight of the used EpiPen and the crumpled Reese’s wrapper next to it. “Jeongguk, what the fuck?”

“What did you do?!” Jin cries, setting his food on the table to take the other side of your ‘patient’. His mother’s intuition kicks in as he takes over your role of nurse, “Are you stupid or something?”

Yoongi takes a seat at the table next to the discarded trays and starts eating, completely unbothered. Shoving a french fry in his mouth, he turns to the rest of the group that is still unsure as to what they should do in the situation. “Make a note, everyone. As soon as he gets out of the hospital, I’m killing him.”

While the others begin to have a seat or discuss the current dilemma, Jeongguk turns to you with seemingly tired eyes full of mischief, “(Y/n)...I can see the light.” His voice has a slight croak to it, and every breath has a slight wheeze.

“Good. Walk into it.” Is your answer petty? Absolutely. But you can't help but glare at him for the stunt he just pulled, especially when he’s trying to hit you with puppy dog eyes. “Don’t pout at me. You deserve this.”

It only takes about 10 more minutes for the ambulance to arrive on campus to pick up the idiot next to you. Which is good, because his breathing was only getting harder and more erratic as you waited with him even after having him lay down to clear his airways a little more. He tried to be cool the entire time they were adjusting him onto the gurney, cracking jokes and flashing the occasional hand sign at Tae’s phone while he took pictures for his Snapchat, but you could tell he was feeling the consequences of his actions when they administered oxygen to him.

After a short ride to the hospital, an hour and a half of sitting in the waiting room of the ER doing homework, and half an hour waiting for Jeongguk to wake up and finish getting scolded by the doctor’s and nurses for his stupid actions, you’re finally left alone with him again on a small couch by the window of his room. His hair isn’t as nicely kept as it was this morning, his street clothes were replaced with a hospital gown at some point during his visit and placed in the bag next to his bed, and his overall appearance just looks completely exhausted. Even so, he looks a lot better than he did at lunch.

“You know, I thought that would go a lot better.” He admits with a chuckle, breaking the silence that was left in your room. A shy smile adorns his face as he plays with the piece of equipment on his finger.

You, however, are not amused, “How did you expect it to go any better, Guk? You are severely allergic to peanuts.”

He sighs, “I meant as far as the embarrassment.”

“Oh, you mean a 20 year old man getting scolded by 40 year old doctors and nurses for eating a peanut butter cup because you were never allowed to have them? Did you think you would just magically not be allergic?” You ask, genuinely interested to hear what his excuse was. In your opinion, there was no excuse. What he did was stupid and wreckless, and you have half a mind to beat the crap out of him for the stunt he pulled. Who did he think he was to scare you like that?

“It can happen…” He shrugs. It was more than obvious that he really didn’t think much of his actions, and that annoyed you more than anything.

“Jeongguk.”

He doesn’t move. He just continues staring at the equipment attached to him as if you weren’t in the room. His childish ignorance was hitting your last nerve at this point. You couldn’t stop yourself from standing up and crossing to his bed.

“Look at me.” You demand. You wait for him to raise his head, giving you a clear view of the frown on his face. You ignore how he looks at you in favor of grabbing onto his face. He had to know you were serious, and he wasn’t going to back out of this. “Don’t you ever do something that could literally kill you in minutes ever again. Do you understand me? I’m not playing with you. You scared the shit out of me!”

“I won’t, I promise.” You hear him loud and clear, you watch him nod and smile in affirmation, but you can’t help but feel helpless. You could’ve stopped him if you’d moved faster, then you could’ve beaten the sense into him before he ended up in the hospital. But here he was, almost 3 hours later with an IV and a drip running into him. The anger that’s been festering all day has finally settled within you, and you feel the tears welling up before you can pull yourself back together.

This of course sets Jeongguk into panic when he sees the glistening of your eyes staring into his own. “Hey! Why are you crying?! Our friendship handbook didn’t mention crying!” He couldn’t handle himself crying, let alone another human being crying at him. In an attempt to soothe you, he places his hands over yours as they rest on his cheeks, rubbing small circles into your skin.

You look away from him, hiding your face before the tears can really start to fall, “It’s in the fine print asshole.”

“Well, why are you crying if I’m okay?” He asks. You refuse to look at him, not wanting to look at him after all the pain he’s caused you thus far, but he wasn’t about to let you cry without knowing what’s really wrong with you. He releases your hands from his and lets them fall while he moves into a different position, getting close enough to you so he can take your face in between his hands like you’d done to him - granted, yours was a lot more harsh than his. He turns your head so he can look at you, waiting until your eyes finally meet his before he smiles, “Hey, you can tell me what’s wrong.”

You can’t help but let the tears fall with the way he looks at you, “You just looked so beaten up and pale, and your breathing just kept getting worse as we waited, and-” You choke back a sob, “-I don’t want to lose you, okay?”

“You’re not going to lose me.” He coos, stroking your cheeks softly with his thumbs. He’d never intended to hurt you this way. He honestly didn’t think that far ahead. He had an idea, he executed a plan he thought would work, and he got to taste a peanut butter cup while living to see another day. It’s only now that he really thinks about what he’s done today. Neither you or the boys have ever seen him like that before, and to someone who’s never experienced it before, it can be really scary. He sees it now that you’re in front of him crying instead of yelling at him. “I swear on my life that I will never do it again.”

‘He wouldn’t do it again?’ You think. Sure he won’t. You scoff, “Easy for you to say. One wrong move and you die before I get my hands on you.” You move to pull his hands off of your face, but he takes your hands in his instead, pulling you to sit on the bed next to him. You’re too surprised to say anything, letting out a small squeak from the sudden movement instead. The two of you just sit and stare at one another before he finally lifts his right hand from yours to hold his pinky towards you, “I promise.”

Staring at the hand with an IV poking out and a heart monitor attached to his pointer finger, you know in the very back of your mind that this will probably happen again whether he intends to or not. But you don’t think you’ve seen him this serious before. At least for now, you can take his pinky in your own and accept his promise to make both of you feel better.

“You drive me crazy, you know?” You ask, wiping at some of your remaining tears with your free hand.

“Don’t you mean I drive you nuts?”

#fae fic #bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x oc #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #y/n #oc #reader insert #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #college au #allergies

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lillupon · 3 years

Note

any tips for people who loves to procrastinate you know how do you manage writing fics and other stuffs such as school/work, it's good being productive like that and i don't know how to become like that, that's a genuine question )-:

Thanks for the question, Anon ♡

TL;DR

1. Prioritise

2. Set aside time each day to write

3. Work in short, focused bursts

I really like the Pomodoro Technique, where you set a timer for 25 minutes of focused work, and then give yourself a 5 minute break once the timer goes off. After a few cycles, you can give yourself a longer break. I used a variation of this during my time in university, except I worked for 60 minutes, and breaked for 10 minutes. During exam season, I would repeat the cycle 8 or 9 times throughout the day.

I’ve found a lot of success using this technique during my writing sessions as well. I set a timer for 20 minutes, and write for 20 minutes without distraction, and without editing. Sometimes, I end up just sitting there for the entire 20 minutes. But if I have a plan going in, I can write between 200 and 400 words, which is pretty good for me!

To be honest, I found it very difficult to balance my creative endeavours with university. After hours of classes, followed by hours of homework, I didn’t often have the mental or emotional energy to write. If you peek at the publication dates of my fics on AO3, you’ll see that they were all written/posted during weeks of break. I try to capitalise on these breaks and I’ll literally spend my entire day writing.

After writing Heatsick back in 2019, I stopped writing for a year because I started a mentally demanding/challenging job and simply did not have the energy to do much more than vegetate in front of the TV or with a book. I have more flexibility now that I’m working from home due to covid, but it’s still tough. My mind is busy and distracted and sometimes it’s difficult to sit down and concentrate. But I love writing, and so I set aside a little bit of time to indulge myself every day. I aim for 500 words on weekdays and more on the weekends.

The reason why I can get AEV out on a schedule is because I had already written ~70k of it before I started posting. There is still editing to be done, and a few scenes I have to go back and write. This takes me pretty much all week, and sometimes I still can’t get the next chapter out within the week lol

Haha this probably isn’t very insightful, so I found a short video for you, made by one of my favourite YouTubers: How to Make Time for Writing.

#asks

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

Text

Michael Rosenstein 2020: Seeking Sojourn

What was I doing in 2010? What was I listening to? Honestly, without doing some digging, nothing springs immediately to mind. I’m guessing that ten years from now, thinking back on 2020, that won’t be the case. In mid-March, my wife and I took off on our annual winter/early spring sojourn to Provincetown, Cape Cod. When we headed out, the state of the world was tenuous. But over the course of four days, we split our time between idyllic, cold walks on the Outer Cape beaches and tracking the pandemic slide into lockdown and mayhem. We came back home to an entirely different world which has continued to spiral and swirl. This was a year where I spent far more time walking in a woods near my house, searching out a pair of barred owls and their four fledglings than I did listening to music. Focus for listening has waxed and waned and online video streams just haven’t resonated with me. But still, music has brought me some sense of solace over the course of the last year.

AMPLIFY 2020: quarantine

Without a doubt, most of my listening over the year was spent following the AMPLIFY 2020: quarantine festival. Organized by Jon Abbey, who runs the Erstwhile record label along with musicians Vanessa Rossetto and Matthew Revert, the online festival kicked off on March 20 and ran through September 20, presenting 240 newly-recorded pieces and 80 hours of music by musicians from across the globe. Most were solo contributions, with seven “blind overdubs” where two musicians with established working relationships chose track lengths in advance and submitted their recordings which were superimposed with some light mixing by Taku Unami. While the pieces are all available as free downloads on Bandcamp, that only reveals part of the story. Over the course of six months, the Facebook group grew to 3000 members, acting as a virtual gathering place for online conversations and musings with countless posts a day. Additionally, Abbey tirelessly posted an ongoing playlist which he dubbed “atmosphere” with cuts that ran the gamut from Albert Ayler to Funkadelic to Keith Hudson to Al Green with an extra-heavy helping of DJ Screw. Just tuning in to those choices and jumping on conversations was enough to save some days.

While anyone following the Erstwhile label caught some memorable submissions by expected participants, the organizers and some guest curators had more in mind than that and sub-threads developed early on. Yan Jun recruited fantastic submissions from little-known musicians from China while also contributing two pieces of his own. In addition to delivering three strong pieces, Revert brought in an Australian contingent. Rossetto delivered a festival highlight with her piece “perhaps at some time you have acted in a play, even if it was when you were a child” while also inviting a wide network of sound explorers constructing intimate sonic investigations. Abbey himself cast a wide net, probing for both established and little known musicians who had caught his attention over the years. (I’ve known Jon for a long time and was honored to be amongst those invited, contributing a piece assembled from field recordings from my Cape Cod trip.)

A number of musicians who hadn’t put out solo recordings in years, some who hadn’t had any recent releases at all, were lured back, with highlights by Greg Kelley, David Kirby, Joe Panzner, Annette Krebs and Sean Meehan. There was also a somber thread of homages to musicians who died over the last year, starting with a dedication of the entire festival to Australian percussionist Sean Baxter as well as a stirring tribute to bassist Simon H. Fell by Rhodri Davies, a dedication to Keith Tippett by Mark Wastell, and pieces commemorating Cor Fuhler by Dale Gorfinkel, Marcus Schmickler, Jim Denley, Nick Ashwood (recorded with Fuhler shortly before his death), Clare Cooper and Reinier van Houdt (whose six monthly missives delivered throughout the duration of the festival are all well worth spending time with.)

I find myself still catching up on the overwhelming array of contributions but here are a small sampling that caught my ear, though if I were to assemble this list a week from now, the choices would certainly be different.

Zhao Cong – “Homework”

homework by Zhao Cong

Yan Jun’s choice of musicians from China was uniformly superb and all are worth checking out. But Beijing-based Zhao Cong’s entry, in particular, has continued to hang with me. Her piece, constructed from two bass guitars and objects with its scrabbled detail of electronic hum, grit and glitch shot through with ringing bass strings popped out on first listen and continues to deliver.

Rie Nakajima – “carpet”

carpet by Rie Nakajima

Nakajima’s approach to sound-making, utilizing motors, mechanical devices and found objects proved the perfect tonic for pandemic listening. Her piece for AMPLIFY was recorded in her home in London “with all familiar objects I have been using at home.” The percussive piece is shot through with timbral depth, clattering along with a barely-contained momentum. Her release Karu Karu for Café Oto’s digital Takuroku lockdown series is also well worth checking out. And while I tended not to connect with online video over the course of the year, I found myself returning to Nakajima’s seven days bird songs which unfolded over the course of a week, multiple times.

Ivan Palacký – “Sanctuary”

Sanctuary by Ivan Palacký

Czech-based Ivan Palacký’s “Sanctuary” hit early on in the fest and remained a favorite. Palacký spent the first day of quarantine exploring his flat with an electromagnetic sensor, capturing the buzzes and tremors of everyday electronic devices. A few weeks later, he pulled out three knitting machines which he contact mic’d and used to improvise with the electromagnetic recordings. Palacký deftly interleaved percussive patter with wafts of static, grit and crackles, creaks and sputters and resonant thrums into an immersive piece.

Martin Kay – “Bath Time (2nd Edit)

Bath Time (2nd Edit) by Martin Kay

Through the festival, a thread developed of the pieces constructed as sonic response to the physical surroundings of isolation. Moniek Darge's gutting “Quarantine Child,” assembled from interior recordings and the desperate wail of a child, Mark Vernon's “The Dominion of Din,” woven together from field recordings from outside his Glasgow flat, cataloging exterior sounds that have annoyed him over the years and Kate Carr’s haunting “on every stair another stairway is set in negative” recorded using an old reel to reel tape and instrument recordings captured in her bathroom are three. Martin Kay’s four-part “Bath Time” delves in to that personal, interior realm, composed from recordings made in and around his bathroom during the routine that developed with his daughter’s nightly bath. The use of shifting focus, natural resonances of the room, the tub and underwater recordings transform the private, domestic activity into an increasingly abstracted aural study.

Distant Duos

The Distant Duos project that Mary Staubitz and Russ Waterhouse embarked on was also instigated by a sense of lost community. But here, the strategies employed were markedly different. The two are immersed in the DIY noise/improv New England community, spearheading shows in basements, bars, galleries and ad hoc venues and collaborating with musicians from New Haven to Portland, Maine, with all stops in between. They’ve also been instrumental in developing a network of like-minded musicians and bringing travelers through, some who have become frequent visitors. Unlike the duos in AMPLIFY, Staubitz and Waterhouse curated the 78 sessions, inviting pairs of musicians with a simple strategy. “Two remote artists record five minutes of sound while thinking about the other artist, unable to hear each other. The two tracks are combined into one.”

Released in sets of five on Bandcamp, the first on April 30 and the last on December 9, these bursts served as vital postcards. For those of us based in New England, these were both bittersweet reminders of the pre-COVID world we frequented and exultant celebrations. As someone who organized shows with the two and often played on the same bills, these really connected. (I was asked to participate, paired with Worcester-based Abdul Sherzai.) Some of the duos were longstanding partnerships (Greg Kelley and Vic Rawlings have been working together for over a decade). Some were pairings of musicians who knew each other but had likely never played together. Some participants were drawn from the deep field of regional musicians while others were recruited from across the US and Europe. With only five minutes at play, these served as sketches, vignettes or rough drafts. But keen curation and Waterhouse’s astute mixing and mastering made these hold together. Like AMPLIFY, these periodic missives kept me going through the last year.

Flip through any of the contributions and you’ll find plenty to encourage further listening. This batch, culled from the October 28th releases, provides a glimpse into the broad crew of musicians pulled in and the diverse strategies they came up with.

Adam Kohl and Mickey O’Hara

Adam Kohl and Mickey O'Hara by Distant Duos

Western Massachusetts-based Kohl (better known musically as Arkm Foam) and Worcester-based O’Hara have been performing together for a while now, and experiencing their mix of low-fi cassette manipulation and laptop generated deconstructed clatter and glitch inhabit a performance space is enthralling. This brief snapshot serves as a succinct snapshot of one of their sets.

J.P.A. Falzone and Hali Palombo

J.P.A. Falzone and Hali Palombo by Distant Duos

This mashup between J.P.A. Falzone (part of the ensemble Ordinary Affects) and composer and visual artist Hali Palombo comes across as quavering pulsations dialed in from some ethereal transmission. Listening feels like one is tuning in to an hours-long broadcast of hovering tones and fluttering waves which fuse together into shuddering oscillations.

Henry Birdsey and Mary Staubitz

Henry Birdsey and Mary Staubitz by Distant Duos

Birdsey has been developing his micro-tonal musings as part of the duo Tongue Depressor as well as his solo releases under his own name and as S.T.L.A. while Staubitz jumps from the solo sonic onslaughts of Donna Parker to a wide-ranging array of ongoing and one-off collaborations. Here field recordings of rippling water and electric pops and crackles mix with shuddering overtones of bowed metal for an engulfing sonic snapshot.

Lexie Mountain and Angela Sawyer

Lexie Mountain and Angela Sawyer by Distant Duos

Baltimore’s Lexie Mountain and Boston’s Angela Sawyer have known each other for years, so it’s no surprise that their distant connection of broken electronics and found objects clicks so well. Here, everyday detritus is elevated to a compact improvisation imbued with skittering percussive tumult, whirrs and clatter.

New Releases

When I did carve out time to listen, here’s a few that stuck with me through the year.

Toshiya Tsunoda & Taku Unami – Wovenland 2 (Erstwhile)

Wovenland 2 by Toshiya Tsunoda/Taku Unami

Working from basic field recordings, Tsunoda and Unami use the studio as an alchemical laboratory, delving into mixing and mastering tools to explore, process and transform environmental sound. In their hands, the digital artifacts of that process are as intrinsic to the results as the source material they have deconstructed. They sum it up succinctly. “Our goal is to focus on acoustic experiments. No more and no less.”

Here are some more that stuck with me in no particular order:

Rhodri Davies – Telyn Rawn (Amgen Records)

Judith Wegmann – Le Souffle Du Temps II - Reflexion (ezz-thetics)

Clara de Asís & Mara Winter – Repetition of the same dream (Another Timbre)

Takuji Naka/Tim Olive – Minouragatake (Notice Recordings)

Magnus Granberg – Come Down to Earth Where Sorrow Dwelleth –Revised version for sho, koto, prepared piano and electronics (Ftarri)

Tasting Menu – Mueller Tunnel (Full Spectrum Records)

Simon H. Fell & Mark Wastell – Virtual Company (Confront)

Xavier Charles & Bertrand Gauguet – Spectre (akousis)

Pierre-Antoine Badaroux, Seymour Wright, Jean-Luc Guionnet – Solos (Remote Resonator)

Archival Releases and Reissues

Reissues continued to pour out from record labels. Some applied studio wizardry to revive and restore previously issued material and others dug out material from the vaults that rightfully deserves to be heard. But with touring opportunities gone, the ability to collaborate in person evaporated and the monthly boon of Bandcamp Fridays, many artists also took the opportunity to dig in to their personal vaults.

Gentle Fire – Explorations (1970-1973) (Paradigm Discs)

Explorations (1970 - 1973) by Gentle Fire

This one just hit in December but quickly shot to the top of my listening pile. Working in London in the early 70s, this little-known quintet of electro-acoustic pioneers worked at the edges of composition and improvisation, putting out a single, now impossible-to-find, LP performing graphic scores of by John Cage, Earle Brown and Christian Wolff (which, in itself deserves a reissue.) If they hit listeners’ radar at all, it was due to the fact that Hugh Davies was part of the group. This 3-CD box of previously unissued material is comprised of one disc of works by Wolff, Stockhausen, Brown, Cage and Ichiyanagi, another of their own compositions and a final disc capturing an extended improvisation. Five decades later, this stuff is still essential listening.

Rhodri Davies – Archif Series (self-released)

Archif #13: BMIC 17/09/1997 by IST

Currently at number 28 and counting, Davies dug in to his archives and unearthed a passel of gems, documenting live performances and studio experiments from 1995 through 2000. From solos to various group sessions, this is all music well worth spending time with. Particularly welcome are two releases by IST (Davies, Mark Wastell, and Simon H. Fell) and one by Assumed Possibilities (Davies, Wastell, Chris Burn and Phil Durrant). One hopes there is more to be unearthed.

Cor Fuhler Conundrom label

SLEE by Cor Fuhler

The sudden passing of Cor Fuhler was a tough one in a tough year. Whether as a pianist, instrument inventor or ensemble leader, Fuhler was always bristling with ideas. As part of a group effort, the discography of his Conundrom label is now available on Bandcamp with proceeds going to his estate.

Here are some others of note in no particular order:

Albert Ayler reissue series (ezz-thetics)

Phillip Wachsmann – Writing In Water (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

Charles Mingus – @ Bremen 1964 & 1975 (Sunnyside)

Voice Crack – Glasgow 20/11/1999 (scatter)

John Butcher – On Being Observed (Weight of Wax)

Derek Bailey and Mototeru Takagi – Live at FarOut, Atsugi 1987 (NoBusiness Records)

Cecil Taylor and Tony Oxley – Birdland, Neuburg 2011 (Fundacja Słuchaj)

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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Beat that Record pt. 4

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

Notes:

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

AO3

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

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

He should’ve known it would become a thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or the next time again.

Or the one after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know?”

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

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

Jonas, however, doesn’t know better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of girls –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isak blinks. “…What?”

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

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

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

“That wasn’t the point –“

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

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

Jonas makes a disagreeing hum. “I could –“

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

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

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

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

Magnus frowns. “Although, the ‘Ev’ part of ‘Evak’ sure is a lot nicer than the ‘ak’.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“He’s such a grumpy boy,” Mahdi says, bypassing Isak to talk to Even. “You’d think he’d be in a better mood from all your winnings.”

“Alright, that’s it, time out,” Isak holds his hands up in a T. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jonas snorts. “Isak, honestly –“

“The competition, or whatever you want to call it,” Mahdi says as if he’s indulging Isak by explaining something that has been going on between Even and Jonas. “You know, the sex thing.”

Isak blinks. The sex thing?

The boys are all in high spirits, but whatever expression comes across Isak’s face clearly shows that he is not, in fact, joking right now.

“You know,” Mahdi continues, a lot more hesitant, eyes flittering between Even and Jonas who look just as unsure of the situation. “Jonas brags about doing something with a girl, and then Even does it better with you.”

“I don’t brag –“ but whatever protest Jonas had wanted to make gets cut off by the choked-off noise Isak unwittingly lets out.

“Baby?” Even checks, but Isak can’t even look at him right now.

Magnus stares at him with the widest eyes possible. “You didn’t know?” he asks incredulously, then frowns inquisitively. “How? They haven’t been subtle!”

Mahdi nods in agreement as if, yeah, Jonas and Even have practically been screaming it to the world from a rooftop. “Especially that first time, remember?” he points out.

“What, coming the most times?”

Mahdi shakes his head. “No, the other time, the one at –“

Magnus snaps his fingers at him. “Oh, yeah! The, uh – what was it – coming the quickest, I remember!”

“Although,” Mahdi bobs his head, “should that even count? Getting a guy off in less than five minutes isn’t exactly a feat.“

“Excuse – hva faen –“

“Baby, are you okay?” Even asks him, causing Isak to whirl around so he can look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks Even, who honest to god looks completely perplexed at Isak.

“I’m sorry,” Even tells him, sounding like he means it. “I don’t exactly bring up Jonas when we’re having sex.”

Isak jabs his elbow in-between Even’s ribs gently. “The rest of the time, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Even repeats, not even mentioning the elbow. He just holds out his hand in case Isak wants or needs it. “I genuinely thought you knew. We haven’t been subtle about it.”

“Isak, unnskyld,” Jonas cuts in. “It was my fault as well, I kept goading him on. Don’t be mad at Even.”

“Oh, I’m plenty mad at the both of you,” Isak points out huffily to his ‘best friend’ and his ‘boyfriend’.

He isn’t, not really. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling as he lies back down next to Even, staring up at the tree branches blocking out the sun and the blue sky. He allows it when Even carefully sweeps his thumb across his elbow, and then uses his left arm, the one furthest away from Even, to grab on to his wrist. He drags it over his stomach, then slides his hand up so they can intertwine their fingers.

“It was just a stupid game, baby,” Even promises, moving his thumb in small circles across the back of Isak’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more,” Isak tells him, them, because Jonas was part of this, too.

Even shakes his head in agreement. “I promise.”

“Of course,” Jonas nods, apologizing once again.

Isak nods to himself once. “No more.”

OOOOO

One more, Isak thinks as he finishes his purchase.

The package arrives on the day of Even’s very last exam, which is just the most perfect timing and also very last minute for what Isak has planned out.

Maybe it hasn’t been entirely fair, Isak reasons. After all, Mia hadn’t stayed a constant and learning the body of someone new whilst exciting also meant a lot of work that, not necessarily, was a bad thing, but also was probably a setback for Jonas despite his seemingly thrilling repertoire.

Even already knew all of Isak’s body, probably had every single inch of it catalogued in his mind. He knows every spot, every place to press, press, press until Isak can’t think.

Isak knows all of those spots on Even as well.

Maybe this will make it all a little more fair, Isak reasons. He’s not exactly interested in making Jonas go steady with someone just for the sake of being able to compare him and Even, so a little taste of his own medicine might do Even some good instead.

It’s getting late in the morning by now, the sunlight barely held at bay by their curtains. The room is already light when Isak wakes up before Even, which isn’t a usual occurrence unless something’s wrong. Nothing is wrong right now, though, Isak has just got plans.

Even had finished his last exam of the year the day before and had stayed up a lot longer than normal in order to wind down. Isak had known that would happen, because it’s what happens every time Even has to take an exam, and so he had waited patiently for this day.

Isak twitches excitedly at his plan, at what’s about to go down, pressing his smile into the pillows as he tries to calm down a bit. There are a lot of things he needs to prepare before everything is ready, no use working himself up so soon.

So he stays in bed, just takes a minute to look at Even sleeping. God, he’s so in love with him, so much it sometimes hurts. His face is smoothed out, lips parted slightly and moving with each breath he takes, his hair flopping sporadically either against his face or the pillows. Isak never wants to stop looking at him.

It’s not about revenge, per se, it’s not mean-spirited. Isak isn’t actually mad with Even, he wouldn’t be doing this if that were the case. It’s more about showing Even that he can play too.

He sneaks out from underneath the covers first, carefully pulling himself off of Even to not startle him into waking up. Even lets out a small grunt, twitches worryingly and frowns at Isak’s absence, but he doesn’t wake up. Isak waits with a baited breath for the long seconds it takes for Even’s features to smooth out again and for him to settle down.

The air comes whooshing out of him once he does.

The bed creaks when he gets up – as it always does, as if it’s literally telling him to stay, stay, stay, but Isak’s a man on a mission, so he gets up as slowly as possible, making sure to keep an eye on Even just in case.

Isak gets up, Even doesn’t wake up. All in all, so far a success.

He grabs the lube off of the bedside table, reminds himself he needs to remember to bring it back, and heads into the bathroom. He’d made sure to store the package in the bathroom – in the cupboard behind everything else, because Even hasn’t learned anything of Isak previously hiding stuff from him and still doesn’t check the apartment for any out of place packages – so as to not need to shuffle around right next to where Even’s sleeping and supposed to stay asleep.

Isak wonders if Even is ever as meticulous when he plans out something like this for Isak, but then he realizes probably not. Even is spontaneous at the best of times, but in this particular context Isak figures it’s all a testosterone-driven competition between him and Jonas.

The bathroom light is unforgiving when Isak flips it on. He nearly trips over a stray towel left behind from yesterday before his eyes have adjusted, but saves himself by slamming his hands against the counter.

He holds his breath, tries to listen for any movement coming from the bedroom, his heart loud in his ears making it very difficult.

Nothing.

Isak exhales.

God, no wonder Even relies on spontaneity instead – this is stressful and Isak hasn’t even gotten started.

Right, game plan, what does he need to do. Lube needs to be one of the last things, the one before last as he needs to put the real surprise on after everything else to not mess it up. He’d taken a bath and shaved yesterday so as to minimize the amount of noise he’ll have to make this morning and risk waking Even up before he’s ready, so he’s already soft and smells nice, curls floofed up the way he knows Even loves running his fingers through.

So makeup should probably be first next step. Isak opens the drawer, grabs the light pink lip-gloss, the brown eye-liner, the eye shadow palette and the mascara, foregoing the blush. He won’t need it, he knows, he’ll be pink cheeked enough just by thinking of what Even will look like when he wakes up and processes what is happening.

He traces the outer edge of his eye with a dark nude and then blends it with a lighter color closer to his skin tone as he goes further onto his eyelid. The brush tickles against his skin and it makes lines crinkle from smiling in the corner of his eyes, making blending the colors in a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Isak takes a deep breath in to keep from smiling and the resumes his work.

He dabs a nearly white color along his tear ducts and the middle of his eyelid. And then has to recreate the entire process on the other eye and try and get it to match. Perfect.

“Faen,” he swears quietly when the edge of the brush reaches out further than he’d intended, leaving a dark smudge on his cheekbones. “Fuck,” he repeats as he struggles to get a wet wipe out, wrapping it around his pointer finger and lightly wiping the powder off.

God, so much effort, Isak complains in his head. Well, not complains, really, because along with all the excess excitement of surprising Even, all of this still feels as thrilling and perfect as it always does, and Isak can’t help but be pleased when he looks at his reflection once he’s dabbed on the last of the eye shadow, just topping it off with the tiniest amount of glitter to really make it stand out.

It looks fucking good.

He traces the pencil along the upper curve of his eye, letting it push out in a small wing to accentuate his features. Then lets the mascara brush slide along his eyelashes with deep, deep blinks to make sure each lash is equally colored in.

The colored tip of the wand glides easily over his lips, leaving behind a light sheen of pink that Isak is careful to distribute evenly. Maybe lip-gloss isn’t the best idea when he’s going to have his lips wrecked for the next hour or so, but he likes the feeling of it and the look of it, and he knows what it does to Even to see him with the color smeared all over his face.

Alright, not bad, he admits to himself. Isak pouts his lips, observing his reflection as he runs his fingers through his hair, making sure to follow the curve of his curls near the ends. Even would definitely be pleased if Isak were to finish here, but he’s got so much more planned and he doesn’t want to stop yet.

Still, it is a bit weird having to lube his fingers up as he stands there, alone in their bathroom, only slightly aroused at the idea of what’s to come.

This isn’t really something he does without Even.

Not as in he feels like he shouldn’t be doing this without Even, not at all. It’s just that when it’s with Even, it’s always so, so good, like, absolutely mind-blowing that he just hasn’t felt a need to do it on his own and therefore never got used to it by himself.

It just – feels a little awkward. The lube is cold, and he’s only vaguely turned on.

He has done this before – not the part where he’s in the bathroom and Even is asleep in their bed and he’s planning the biggest surprise of Even’s entire life, but he has opened himself up so he could surprise Even when he came home. He likes the idea, likes knowing that he’s making himself wet and open for Even.

A thrum of heat rushes through his body at that thought, and then it feels easy enough to slip in a second finger.

Isak muffles a groan by biting down on his wrist. The last thing he wants right now is to accidentally wake Even up now that his dick has decided to be up. He’s put too much work into this already for it to be ruined prematurely.

He makes sure to not curl his fingers despite the temptation, focuses on just spreading them as wide as possible. He takes care to not rush through the process, but he also rushes through the process.

Deep breath in, and then he works in the third finger, making sure to exhale slowly so he doesn’t tense up inadvertently.

It’s not quite the same feeling as when Even does it; his fingers are longer and he somehow always knows how to move them in a way that’ll drive Isak the most insane, but the general motion is familiar, so Isak tries to keep his thoughts on that instead of how cold the tiles feel against his feet by now.

The excess lube pops weirdly when Isak pulls his fingers out. He knows Even would’ve giggled had he heard it, which is apparently enough that Isak’s cheeks feel flushed as he smiles stupidly at the sink.

He grabs the bottle, smears a little extra around his hole and just inside of it to be on the safe side. Then he washes his hands thoroughly and makes sure they’re fully dry before he opens the cupboard door.

He has to crouch down on the floor, the cold now settling into his knee as he tries to dig through the contents to get to the very back where he hid the package.

It’s not all easy – there’s the bottle of shaving cream Even uses, then there’s Isak’s lotion and a spare bottle of lavender body-wash, because Even had joked about it being the literal end of his life if Isak couldn’t get to feel pretty whenever he wanted to. So now, whenever Even does the grocery shopping, he’ll buy two bottles and Isak will tell him he’s a fool, and Even will tell him, ‘a fool in love’ in English and proceed to kiss any complaints Isak has straight out of his mouth.

Drawing the package is more difficult than it had been to reach his hand in; he’s careful not to accidentally have one of the corners of the crinkly bag catch on one of the bottles, causing a domino effect. Not when he is butt-ass naked, lubed up and with his face painted.

He sighs heavily once he’s got it in his lap, and then he spends a couple of seconds just running his fingers over the bag. It’s polyethylene so it just feels like plastic. He can’t feel the garment through it, all he knows is that it’s light, a lot lighter than he for some reason had thought it would be.

The adhesive makes the bag crinkle loudly enough that Isak winces in response. He can never tell if it’s better to rip it all off at once or if he should proceed slowly and methodically, taking care with each movement he makes. He winces as he gets another centimeter open, then tries for five all at once.

At least it’s a small package. It’s only one item he’s purchased, and the material is apparently easily foldable – that, or Isak will have very little to wear, or will at least be wearing something that covers very little.

It’s exciting, no matter what. Isak’s chest feels tight and his heart is pounding. He keeps wanting to laugh, for some reason. Nothing is particularly funny in that regard, but he likes this feeling, being so light like he could float to the ceiling. He can’t wait for when Even wakes up and sees him.

The last two centimeters. He pauses for a few seconds, tries to hear if Even’s moving about. He can’t hear anything through the closed door, though.

The clothing itself is wrapped in another bag, but this one is clear and hasn’t been sealed as firmly as the packaging had been. God, never mind that Isak’s heart is pounding, it feels like it’s stuck in his throat.

He can see the color, can see that it’s so pretty he could actually cry. It’s the lightest pink, just a bit pinker than a nude color, and it’s so goddamn beautiful, and Isak could cry from how well it matches his lip-gloss, honestly.

He nearly doesn’t dare open it. It looks so soft, so delicate, surely he can’t be worthy of touching it, but his fingertips are practically itching to get it in his hands properly.

He works it open even slower than he had the first bag, this time taking great care not for fear of being too loud, but from apprehension of accidentally ruining it before he’s had the chance to wear it.

Isak carefully folds a finger inside, feels the fabric slide against his skin smoothly, like he’s running his hand through a cloud. It’s slightly cold, probably from how light the material is. It’ll probably warm up once his body heat is transferred to it, or when he’s worked up a sweat as he’s sure he’s about to in a minute.

It practically glides out of the bag, the fabric alive and easily malleable, and then Isak is holding it in his hands, is holding it up, folded out and actually there to look and feel and wear.

The body of it is the light, nude pink that always serves to make Isak squirm slightly in his seat. The lace trimming is a lighter, creamy white that Isak had originally feared would make him look pale when he’d seen it on the lingerie website, but now that he’s holding it he can see that that isn’t the case.

It’ll be good – it’ll be perfect.

The lace runs along the waistline, transferring smoothly to the triangle-shaped cups. Isak carefully lets the tip of his finger follow the shape of it, running along the scalloped edge. Even the lace is as soft as the satin-like fabric.

Oh, yes. Isak can definitely play as well.

It almost feels wrong to put it on. Not wrong like everything had felt wrong at first, when Isak had felt wrong, but like it’s so much. Isak had never thought he’d wear something like this, that he’d want to wear something like this, but here he is and he wants.

He almost wants Even to be here, but that’s silly. He doesn’t need to hold his boyfriend’s hand to do this, and he also wants to surprise Even more than he wants someone else to witness this glorious moment.

It still takes a few more minutes before Isak’s worked up the nerve to get up off the floor. His legs feel like they’ve fallen asleep, and he’s colder than he would’ve like to have been.

He slips it on smoothly over his head, likes the way it folds over his body, how it settles along his waist, his hips, how the hem tickles his upper thighs. The chest doesn’t even bulge out oddly from his lack of breasts, just sits a bit loosely. He can see his nipples peeping through the see-through lace, knows immediately that Even is going to love that once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing Isak in a negligee.

God. An actual negligee. Chemise. So goddamn pretty.

Isak feels so goddamn pretty.

The bathroom door clicks open softly, the light pattering of feet tapping against the floor sounding at as Isak sneaks back into the main room.

He feels oddly exposed walking around like this, more so than he would’ve been had he been wearing nothing at all. Hearing Even’s deep breaths is calming, makes him feel like everything is okay and there’s no reason to be psyching himself out, not when everything is going so well.

Even sleeps on his back, too used to settling Isak’s weight on top of his chest to sleep any other way by now.

It had never been intentional on Isak’s part, but right now he’s terribly thankful for his clinginess as it makes what he’s got planned a lot easier than it otherwise would’ve been.

He places the lube onto the bedside table for easy access should they need it. Then he patters over to their dresser, carefully lights one of the matches he’d purposely left out for this.

The candle smells as good as ever, like freshly picked apples. It’s the same kind that Even had gotten him, a new one because they’d used up the old one but had gotten so fond of the smell, of what it meant to them, of what they’d started to associate the scent with.

It works now as well.

Isak watches carefully in anticipation, watches as Even frowns in his sleep, shifts slightly – not so much that he rolls over, just enough that he brings his right arm over his head, his legs spreading slightly. They’ve switched the duvet out for lighter, cooler sheets that are thin enough that Isak can already see the effect as Even’s subconscious registers what is likely about to happen as the scent spreads throughout the room, sees as he goes from half-mast to fuller and fuller.

Even groans in his sleep, shifts slightly again, unintentionally kicking the sheet lower and lower down his hips.

Go time.

Isak barely dares to breathe as he treads closer to the end of the bed. It creaks so loudly when he places his knee onto it, his right one next to Even’s left leg, that he’s certain Even will make an odd grunt and wake himself up.

He stays asleep, so Isak lifts his left knee onto the bed as well, on the outside of Even’s right thing, and then he slowly starts to crawl up, up, up, further and further. His breath hitches when he feels how hard Even already is against his inner thigh, almost praises that the sheet is still – barely – covering him up enough that he wouldn’t be able to accidentally feel the slide of the fabric against his skin. It’s bad enough that it feels torturously good against Isak, Isak does not need for Even to wake up too soon.

But now that Isak is settled with his thighs framing Even’s hips, just above where the sheet covers him up to and where Even is hard and temptingly perfect right underneath where Isak is sitting.

Even makes another sound, this time a lot deeper, his throat trying to figure out how to work after sleeping for so long, but nonetheless more pleased than anything. His eyelashes are fluttering, and this literally could not go any more smoothly than it is right now.

“Baby,” Isak says gently, placing both of his hands on Even’s stomach only to slowly, slowly slide them up towards his chest. “Wake up.”

Even groans again, but he’s shifting more, clearly on the cusp of consciousness. The sheets are wrapped around his thighs by now, and Isak wants so badly it hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard – well, he can, every time, after all.

The hand Even had thrown over his head comes flying toward Isak now, landing heavily on Isak’s knee that Even immediately proceeds to squeeze upon contact. The relieved breath whooshes out of Isak – thank god he hadn’t accidentally caught the chemise and figured it all out in his mostly asleep state when he’d been flopping around.

“It’s morning,” he tries, a little louder this time. His thumb sweeps gently across a freckle. “It’s morning, and I love you.”

A pleased noise is rumbled from Even’s throat, so at least Isak knows he’s more awake than he was a few seconds ago.

“I love you,” the words are barely audible through the gruff of Even’s morning voice, but Isak knows what he’s saying. As if he’d ever be able to not recognize those three little words when they’re coming from Even.

Even cards his hand up Isak’s thigh, humming happily at having Isak in his lap.

“Baby,” he croons sweetly, eyes still shut, fingers trailing up higher and higher until, finally, he touches the soft chemise.

Even frowns. Isak’s heart feels like it’s beating inside his throat, he’s so close, he just needs to wait a few more seconds.

Even trails his thumb along the edge of the negligee, clearly mentally checking over that he does not in fact recognize whatever it is Isak’s wearing before he opens his eyes.

Now, Isak thinks, probably grinning like a lunatic as he raises himself onto his knees and then reaches behind himself to grab Even’s cock, holding it upwards to make the slide down easy and steady.

Isak whines when the head of Even’s dick pops past his rim. Even’s eyes are practically boggling out of his head, his mouth open wide as he stares at Isak incredulously.

“Baby,” he repeats, a lot more breathless and surprised, but still just as sweet. His hands clutch tightly onto Isak’s thighs, probably leaving behind white lines where his nails are scratching at him. “Baby, look at you.”

Isak hums happily as he slides down, down, down, tilting his head back and pushing his chest forward so Even can fully see his outfit.

“God,” Even mutters, hands grabbing onto Isak’s hips through the fabric. “Happy birthday to me.”

Oh god, the actual idiot. Isak can’t tell which is worse – that that is Even’s response to all of Isak’s troubles, or the fact that it actually startles a laugh out of Isak.

It tapers into a moan quickly enough once Isak’s cheeks meet Even’s hips.

“Such a dork,” Isak sounds more breathless than either annoyed or amused in his teasing. He swivels his hips in slow, slow circles, feels how he loosens around Even, how big he feels inside of him.

He makes sure to clench down when he sees Even open his mouth, because he is nothing if not petty. And this is his game tonight, after all.

“Baby,” Even moans in response, hands like vices but relentless enough to let Isak move as he pleases. “What – baby, what is all this?”

Isak hums, raises himself up just an inch only to sink back down again. It punches his breath out of his lungs, because, fuck, that feels good. The slide of it is smooth, and Even definitely feels much better than the three fingers Isak had worked inside of himself earlier in preparation, and he just loves this.

“What do you think it is?” he asks, a little bit because it feels like his brain has been fried, but also because he’s genuinely curious as to what Even would come up with.

“Uh – “ Even hesitates, actually trying to think, but then Isak raises up a bit again and he can see every thought Even has literally fly out of his head. “Summer – shit – exams are over?”

Isak shakes his head, draws up an inch higher and then stays there.

It’s torture, absolute torture, because Isak just wants to sink back down. Him pausing first makes Even think that something is wrong, Isak sees it as his eyes are frantically checking Isak all over before they settle on his face.

He raises an eyebrow in silent question. Isak hopes he looks suave as he grins and tells him, “Next guess.”

“Fuck,” Even groans, head tipping back against the pillows. He tries to push his hips up, but Isak follows the movement and only ends up sliding up another inch from Even’s efforts.

Just guess already, he begs silently, willing his legs to not shake just yet.

“Uh,” Even shakes his head as he tries to think, one hand carding through his hair as if to force his thoughts away from Isak literally on top of him. “I haven’t missed any anniversaries.”

It’s not a guess, so Isak doesn’t slide any further up at the wrong answer.

“You haven’t,” he confirms, just because he’s a nice boyfriend. But he also snorts, because no way would Even be the one to miss anniversaries.

“Okay, okay,” he takes in a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. “I, shit, alright, I – have I said something that made you think about doing this?”

Isak slides up another inch, tries not whine when he has to keep still once again, when he is a little less full than he wants to be.

“Fuck,” Even moans in bemusement, staring up at Isak with wild eyes. “I need a hint, I can’t fucking think.”

Isak hums, swivels his hips again. It feels a little weird doing it when he hasn’t got all of Even buried inside of him, when he’s technically more so hovering in mid-air, but it makes Even lose his breath and composure that little bit more.

Giving Even a hint would probably speed up this entire process – depending on how generous Isak wanted to be with his hints. It’s not often Isak gets to see Even like this, though, as desperate as Isak imagines he himself looks a lot of the time because of Even.

“Have I –“ Even tries again before Isak has decided if he wants to comply or not. “Have I done something? Good or bad? Fuck, Isak, I don’t know –“

“I’ll give you a hint,” he decides on the spot, because he is impatient and he wants, and his thighs are too close to shaking for how early it still is.

Even is staring up at him with wide eyes, his hips twitching minutely as he tries to be good and stay still. His hands are on Isak’s thighs by now, rubbing up and down slowly and actually helping with the small tremors Isak is already feeling.

He’ll be nice with his hint, he decides, because, again, he isn’t actually mad at Even. This is Isak playing along, and it’ll only be much more fun once Even realizes what is going on.

So, naturally, the hint Isak decides to give Even is, “Jonas.”

“What?” Even’s eyes are comically wide by now, only accentuated by the frown on his lips as he stares up at Isak incredulously. “Isak, you know how I feel about talking about other –”

Isak grins down at him, rolls his eyes petulantly in a way he knows Even would’ve commented on had this happened under normal circumstances. “Your hint. It’s ‘Jonas’.”

Even blinks. His hips aren’t even twitching anymore, he’s actually lying stock-still, which only emphasizes how Isak’s thighs are actually trembling at this point.

He slides up another inch, to get Even’s attention but also to make him think quicker, damn it.

“’Jonas’,” Even repeats, actually cringing as he’s forced to think about Isak’s best friend whilst he’s inside of Isak. Best hint ever. “What the hell does Jonas – Oh.”

Oh. Isak hadn’t predicted this reaction from Even.

Even is looking softly at him, his hands now gentler than ever before on his thighs, running up and down almost as smoothly as the chemise of the nightgown feels against his skin. “Isak,” he says apologetically, “I really am sorry, I promise. It’s not an excuse, but I honestly didn’t ever imagine that you didn’t –“

Isak laughs. “God, Even, no, that’s not –“ Well, it is, but not in the way Even thinks it is. “I’m not mad.”

Even is still just looking at him, hands barely touching him as if he isn’t sure the touch would be welcome, looking so damn insecure Isak wants to lean down and kiss him were it not for the fact that he’s staying still right now.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he promises. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I was. This isn’t what you’re supposed to do when your relationship hurts you –“ a positively hurt noise tears itself out of Even’s throat “– you’re supposed to communicate in those situations. This isn’t about communication.”

He draws up another inch to accentuate his point, clenches down when he feels that he’s a lot closer to the head of Even’s dick than he’d thought he was, not wanting for Even to accidentally slip out.

“It’s not?” Even asks, sounding breathless again and like he isn’t doubting everything in front of his eyes anymore.

“No, baby,” Isak ensures him, linking one of his fingers with Even’s before smiling devilishly at him. “This is about playing,” and then he sinks all the way back down again.

Even makes a noise like all the air inside of his body has been punched out of him. His dick keeps twitching inside of Isak, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does, and Isak can’t keep in his moan of appreciation.

“’Playing’?” Even questions, breathing hard and staring at Isak like he never wants to look away and lot like he’s barely able to pay attention to what he’s saying.

Isak nods, clenches down again just because. “Yeah. Playing. As in ‘I can do it, too.’”

Even is nodding madly, because, holy shit, yes, he absolutely can. “And, uh, fuck, what are the rules?”

Isak hums again, pulls up and goes back down quicker than before, then does it again. The tip of his dick already feels wet with pre-come, and he almost looks down to check if it has left dark spots on his dress, but the sight of Even is a much better view to be honest. “What do you think the game is about?”

Even groans pitifully at having to think again when everything in the world – i.e. Isak – is working against him, rendering him completely unable to focus on anything that isn’t his boyfriend.

“Is it – are you,” he tries, licking his lips as his eyes rake down over Isak’s form, groaning gutturally when he notices Isak’s pebbled nipples poking out through the fabric. “Isak.”

Isak forces himself to slow down. He only lets out a little, breathy oof when all his blood and body are doing is singing for more, more, more.

“Are you doing all of them yourself? All of the, uh, competitions?” he searches for the right word. “Are you repeating all of it on me?”

Isak wrinkles his nose. The scientific-part of his brain is thinking that that was a much better idea, because that is, after all, how you’re supposed to compare results, but this isn’t about comparing results, Isak reminds that part of him. “No.”

“Isak,” Even groans in defeat. “You are literally – fuck, look at you, baby. You’re so fucking pretty and you’re so wet and hot around me, and you’re making me think, baby, when I literally can’t. Such a gorgeous sight, I don’t think you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now, sitting there in that dress – fuck.”

The corner of Isak’s mouth twitches upwards. “So, does that mean you like it, then?”

Even just groans again in reply.

“The game,” Isak stresses, rising up again only to pause much to the bemusement of the both of them, “was to surprise you. I never expected for you and Jonas to go as far as you did, and you clearly never expected of me to do this.”

Even blinks at him.

So,” he pauses expectantly, “are you? Surprised?”

“I am,” Even agrees, sliding his hands up Isak’s thighs to get to his hips, slowly easing Isak back down with a groan. “I really am, I couldn’t even imagine the sight of you right now, wouldn’t be able to dream of it. Of course, now,” he grins, pushing his hips up when Isak goes back down again, Isak allows it magnanimously, “that you have provided me with this absolutely exquisite image, I hope to never dream of anything but.”

“Sap,” Isak complains, but not really. He could lean down to kiss Even quiet, but on the next push from Even’s hips the angle is suddenly just right and Isak positively melts at the feeling of it.

“Oh,” he breathes out, quietly, a lot more quiet than he usually is at the touch of Even’s dick against his spot.

Maybe it’s because this isn’t something they’ve really done before; not the position, but Isak directing the moves as much as he’s been doing this morning. It’s been fun, that’s for sure, and Isak will treasure the look on Even’s face as he tried to realize what was going on for a long time to come, but now that Even is helping him move, now that Isak’s bones feel like melted chocolate and his blood is sizzling hot, he thinks it might be nicer to let Even pull his load.

In a minute, he tells himself, spreading his knees a bit wider on the mattress so he can rise up and down in short bursts, barely losing the feeling of being so full for more than a second at a time.

“I don’t have to worry about any more surprises, do I?” Even asks him. “I can only take so much, baby. You’re going to kill me.”

Isak feels a lot like if anyone were to die right now, it wouldn’t be Even. “I want to come like this,” he tells him instead, “but that’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

Even smiles lazily up at him. His eyes are very dark. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love it. Because I do. I fucking love making you come like that.”

Isak loves coming like that as well, but he doesn’t get the chance to tell Even that as he’s got one hand leaving his hip, smoothing over the fabric and going up, up, up until he lands somewhere around his waist.

The warmth of Even’s hand feels distant underneath the coolness of the chemise, and Isak twitches and loses his breath from the sensation, his brain not sure what to do with the mix of signals.

Even’s thumb rubs soothingly along the bottom line of his ribs, but it only makes Isak whimper for a short second before he bites down on his lip.

“God,” Even breathes out, eyes going impossibly darker until Isak feels like he’s entranced by the look of it. “Baby, shit, want to make you come like this. Want to make you wet with it. You already are a bit, aren’t you, baby? I can see it on your pretty dress, so pretty, baby, where you’ve dripped with slick.”

Isak definitely whimpers at that, losing the rhythm he’d managed to build up for a beat too long. The hand remaining on his hip squeezes him comfortingly, slowly directing him back to it firmly, helping him tilt his hips right enough that the tip of Even’s dick slides against his spot when he pushes back in.

It’s like Isak is in control under Even’s guidance, where they get to share the reins, and it’s so much, it’s so much.

“Ev,” he whispers, nearly choking on his own spit when he tries to clear his throat. “Even, I’m so close, I’m –“

A whine slips out of his mouth when the hand on his waist slides up even further, the tips of Even’s fingers just plucking slightly at the strap of the dress, at the hem where it covers his chest, runs along underneath his arm.

Over the lace covering his nipple.

“Even,” he tries again, more petulantly, but also a lot more breathless.

“God, baby, me too,” Even tells him thankfully, eyes trained on where he’s got two fingers circling the pointed tip of Isak’s nipple, slowly getting closer and closer until he suddenly switches tactic and his thumb sweeps across the lace, dragging it against him.

“Even!”

“Fuck,” Even agrees, raising his knees until he can plant his feet firmly on the bed, pushing his hips up a lot harder, a lot firmer now.

Isak leans back against Even’s knees for support, to give his thighs a rest and his lungs a chance to get some air in them, but the change in angle just makes everything perfect. Synapses lightening up in response, and Isak keens with it.

“Baby,” Even pinches his nipple between two fingers, twisting it gently just once before he lets go in favor of returning to his grip on Isak’s hips, directing him all that more easily. “How fucking lucky am I. Look at you, baby, such a pretty thing, aren’t you, all decked out in lace and your pretty face colored in so nicely.”

Isak’s knees clamp together reflexively, stopped by Even’s body between them. The different movement from going up and down just accentuates how sore his thighs already are.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Even tells him, eyes now trained on Isak’s lips instead. “Would you let me? I’d ruin your makeup, baby girl, but I bet you’ll still look so pretty with that pretty, pink color smeared all over your mouth, wouldn’t you? It would get on me as well, you’d be marking me up.”

Isak should not feel as hot a surge rushing through his stomach as he does at the image of residue pink gloss all over Even. He shouldn’t but he does. He just feels hotter with it, and his dick twitches warningly underneath the fabric, the head of it dragging deliciously along the silk until Isak whines with it, almost curling in on himself.

It’s only Even’s grip on him and his hips now pushing up relentlessly that keeps him in place, making sure that Even’s doesn’t lose the angle that’s guaranteed to make Isak come a lot sooner than he’d thought he would be.

“You’re leaking with it,” Even tells him as if Isak doesn’t already know. “I can feel you, you know, every time you get so close you feel like it can’t possibly get better. It can, baby, I promise you it can. Just let me show you, please, let me make you come.”

“Please,” Isak begs, the world around him swimming, the only constant being Even, Even, Even. He clenches around Even, feels how he twitches inside of him, how big he always feels, and it’s so good and Isak is so, so close. “Please.”

“Baby,” Even coos, groans when he has to force himself not to come before Isak. “God, it’s not fair, baby, how you play. Can’t believe that is what I got to wake up to today. Fuck me.”

“Fuck me,” Isak rectifies, not even bothered when Even can’t help but laugh at that, because he immediately makes up for it by forcing Isak’s thighs through one last sprint, pulling him down when he pushes up.

“I already am, baby,” Even reminds him, barely sounding out of breath, the bastard. “Can’t you feel me? Can’t you feel me inside of you? God, I want to fill you up, want for you to be dripping with it, just as wet with it as you are now. Isak. Are you close?”

Isak can’t answer, but Even doesn’t need for him to.

“You are, I can feel it. I can see it on you, can feel it inside of you. You’re so good, you know, always letting me know how to make you feel good, even if you don’t actually say the words out loud. Love making you feel good, making you come. Always want to make you come, just, over and over again for the rest of eternity.”

It’s not fair, Even knows he shouldn’t be bringing up infinities or the universe at a moment like this, Isak is goddamn helpless to it in a moment like this.

He moans high-pitched and so deeply in his throat that it hurts a bit when he comes, jostled up and down when Even keeps moving inside of him, around him, still directing Isak along with it as he comes and comes and comes.

He’s floating miles above their bed right now, his body not remembering to breathe for how good everything feels. Even keeps moving to prolong everything, to make sure that it stays good when Isak can’t have a hand on him to help him along.

“Ev,” he whimpers with it, and that’s enough for him to feel Even fill him up in turn, moaning so loudly Isak’s dick twitches already, and that is definitely way too soon, fuck.

Even’s hips are still making small aborted thrusts when the sensitivity starts to kick in properly, Isak now back in his own body again, breathing harshly and body sore but feeling so good.

“Fuck,” he gasps, because it’s the only thing he can think right now, and then he bends forward, trying to get closer to Even’s face, tries to get to lie down on his chest. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t kissed Even all morning, he suddenly realizes, and he wants to rectify that immediately.

“Kiss,” he demands when Even tries to maneuver him back up to a sitting position.

The smile that breaks out across Even’s face makes Isak’s heart practically grow three sizes bigger.

“Baby,” he coos, properly this time, and then helps Isak push forward so he can rest his chest on top of Even’s, and then he can kiss him.

His thighs ache and it’s difficult to keep his balance like this. He’s got come cooling against his skin, making the chemise stick to his skin weirdly, and he can feel Even softening inside of him.

“Good morning,” he whispers against Even’s lips, then ducks down to kiss him again.

As far as morning kisses go, this one is a pretty good one.

“Best morning,” Even grins too wide to kiss Isak properly, but Isak’s laughing as well, so it evens out.

Even slips out sooner rather than later, the tip of his dick leaving a wet smear against Isak’s cheek in a way that definitely does not make his stomach clench hotly, and then Isak’s thighs literally cannot take it anymore, so Even helps him tip slowly onto his back over on the right side of the bed.

His entire body relaxes when his head hits the pillows, a content sigh leaving his body as he grabs onto Even to keep a hold of him in any way he can.

Isak feels loose-limbed and satisfied in the best of ways, still fighting to control his breathing, but otherwise totally relaxed. He isn’t even all that mad about the thing anymore – not that he had really been mad at the beginning either, more annoyed that this was apparently a thing he was unwittingly being drawn into.

Maybe he would’ve felt differently if it weren’t a thing Even was winning, which, technically, in turn means that Isak was winning. Or if Even had been sharing overtly personal details of their sex life with the boys, then Isak would’ve been pissed, but Even knows where the line goes – contrary to previous evidence.

Next to him, Even is staring at the ceiling like he’s having an out-of-body experience. Isak’s blood is singing in his veins, he’s still breathing too hard from the exertion.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Isak giggles.

“I can’t feel my whole body,” Even moans. “Holy shit, Isak.”

A flush predictably rises into his cheeks. It’s just Even – Even knows everything about Isak and would never judge him on anything, but he still feels the need to hide his face behind his hands.

“Hey,” Even says softly, twisting onto his side and folding his fingers around Isak’s wrists. “Baby, let me see you.”

Isak is still flushed, would probably be squirming at the feeling of Even’s eyes on his body, on his face, if it weren’t for how he still can’t seem to move his legs. He lets Even move his hands easily, though, but he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Baby,” Even sing-songs, one hand cupping his face, his thumb sweeping gently along the line of his cheekbone. “Still absolutely immaculate.”

Isak knows he’s talking about his makeup, but that doesn’t make him feel any less squirmy. “Stop,” he whines, actually meeting Even’s eyes now. “I just came.”

Something in Even’s eyes go a little wider, a little darker. “You did,” he agrees.

Even’s hand rests heavily on Isak’s hip, warm and grounding. Isak’s skin prickles with sensitivity under the touch of it, his dick remaining half hard rather than softening up completely. Even’s thumb sweeps across the skin stretched taught over the hipbone, again and again in a rather hypnotizing manner.

In a completely hypnotizing manner, Isak rectifies, when he suddenly feels the fingers of Even’s other hand swirling softly over his hole.

It is reflexes that make Isak’s legs clamp shut, a slightly panicked, way too high-pitched noise coming straight out of his throat as he nearly flies up the bed.

“Shh,” Even shushes, keeps a hold on his hip to scoot Isak down the bed again, then hooks a foot around Isak’s left shin, the one closest to Even, and pushes against Isak’s right thigh with his hand to open his legs again. “Just making the clean-up easier, baby.”

“What are you talking –“ Isak frowns, not sure he’s understood what Even means, ‘making the clean-up easier’ when he hasn’t even gotten up to get a wet towel yet, and when Isak knows Even knows cleaning come-stains off of t-shirts or whatever article of clothing had been the closest is one of Isak’s pet peeves, but then Even’s let go of Isak’s thigh and is pushing his fingers against his hole again.

And then they’re slipping inside, easy as nothing, just a smooth slide in, two fingers at once, all the way to the knuckle until Even can curl them upwards.

His body unwittingly tries to squirm away, but he only manages to dislodge Even’s fingers for a second before they’re pressing back against his spot, unrelenting and unapologetic.

“You’re not, that’s not –“ Isak gasps, squeezes his eyes shut and fumbles with his hands to grab onto Even. “That’s not cleaning and you know it.”

“Au contraire,” Even says obnoxiously, like he should’ve been cast in an obnoxious, pretentious French film or French porno at the rate this is going, “I am making it easier.”

He pulls his fingers out to the first knuckle, then presses them back in, and Isak can feel the point Even is trying to make.

It’s not exactly uncommon that Even comes inside of him, it’s rather the norm. Isak can’t remember the last time they’d even went out and bought condoms, not since their test results came back, he thinks. They both prefer the feeling of Even being bare inside of him, and Isak likes how wet he feels when Even comes inside of him. The feeling afterwards isn’t as much appreciated, the come slowly sliding back out mainly just making him squirm uncomfortably.

Right now, though, he can’t tell if Even’s trying to push the come out of him or back inside of him.

“Can’t you feel it?”

Isak can, he can feel it. He can feel Even’s fingers inside of him where he’s still lose and wet, can feel the come bubbling out when Even presses in, only to be pushed back inside when Even swirls his fingers through it and presses back in.

“I feel,” Isak gasps when Even curls his fingers again, “how big of an asshole you are.”

Oh, he set Even up perfectly for whatever he wants to say, Isak can feel that and also see it with how much Even’s waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, if you want to feel something of mine that’s big you’ve got to give me a few minutes, sweetheart.”

Isak huffs, tries to shut his legs closed again, but it doesn’t work when his left leg is still held immobile by Even. “Can’t extend that to me, too?”

Even presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “But baby,” he coos, “you don’t need a few minutes, do you? Just look at that, already,” he nods down to where Isak’s already fully hard.

Isak thinks his dick is a traitor. A traitor that has some kind of a trained Pavlovian response to Even and Even’s stupid ideas.

“You’re all wet, baby.” Even’s breath is hot against Isak’s skin, and he can’t help but flail again, he can’t. One hand curls around Even’s wrist, the one on his hip, and the other flies up to catch a hold of the pillows. “Such a pretty sight, aren’t you. You can’t really blame me for wanting to make you come again. You’re so pretty when you fall apart for me. Pretty all the time, but you’re goddamn radiant when I make you feel so good you can’t help it. It’s just too tempting for me not to make you come again and again.”

At this rate, Isak probably won’t even need a few minutes to come, let alone calm down so the overstimulation isn’t too ‘too much’. By the feel of it, Even also won’t need a few minutes before he’s hard enough to fuck Isak again, going off of the warm weight Isak can feel against the side of his upper thigh.

“You just woke up,” Isak gasps, doesn’t even try to shut his legs again even though his reflexes are trying to tell him to, “and you’ve already had a fucking great orgasm. Isn’t it a little too early for this much energy? Why do this now?”

“It’s all about surprises, isn’t it?” Even grins, leaning in close to bite his shoulder lightly, just next to where the strap of the chemise is threatening to slide down. “That’s what you told me, baby, what the rules of the game were. But I’ll let you in on this surprise – should it count?”

Isak mmphs, bearing down on Even’s fingers to get him deeper. “What?”

“I surprised you the first time,” Even explains, “when I made you come five times. You hadn’t expected that. I definitely did not expect the absolutely gorgeous sight I got to wake up to this morning, faen, baby. So now we’re going to add our two surprises together. And that means deciding if this one should count.”

‘This one.’ ‘Add our two surprises together.’ ‘This one.’

Isak’s eyes widen when he realizes just what it is Even’s planning on doing. ‘This one’, as in this one. As in right now, with three fingers inside, making Isak come like this, with nothing else touching him.

“You’ve done that before…” Isak trails off, not sure what Even’s trying to lead to.

Even smiles gently at him. “I have, that’s right, that’s not what I’m asking, though. I’m asking if it should count.”

If it should count? Count with what? Isak frowns and looks up at Even for a clue. He finds it in his dark eyes, at the upturned corner of his lip.

Oh.

Oh god.

“It counts,” Isak blurts out, interrupted by a high-pitched whine when Even drives his fingers in a little harder. “It’s only – untouched, it’s – it counts,” wanting desperately to get the message across.

If Even makes him come on his fingers and it doesn’t count, Isak will have to come seven times tonight if Even wants to beat the record of five with his cock only.

Seven. It sounds terrifyingly high.

“It counts,” he repeats, close to begging at this point. He can’t do seven. He could barely do five – six still sounds impossible. Even’s had him do five twice by now – the first time and then the night after the club. Isak hasn’t had the time to mentally prepare himself for now being like one of those nights, let alone a time of beating the record.

Even hums like he still hasn’t decided whether or not it should count, and Isak can’t, he can’t – he doesn’t know how to convince him it should count because he can’t think, not with how good Even feels, how great everything feels right now. He’s so close, Even just has to keep moving his fingers for literal minutes and he’ll come again, he can feel it.

But then Even pulls his fingers out, and the whine that leaves Isak’s lips is a completely involuntary action.

“Shh, baby,” Even shushes him, helps him turn over on his side, facing away from Even. He’s so close, fuck. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re so good, so fucking pretty, I never want to stop looking at you.”

Usually, Isak might’ve sassily made a comment about just what view of him Even doesn’t want to stop looking at, considering he’s pulling his back flush up against his chest, but right now he’s so on edge he can’t think, let alone speak in full sentences or banter with his boyfriend.

“Let’s solve the issue,” Even suggests, and the next thing Isak registers is the head of Even’s dick sliding against his cheek before it settles against his rim. He presses his hips back, tries to work Even inside without needing Even to move. It wouldn’t have worked, but Even helps him along.

Isak’s heart is pounding in his throat, he’s so keyed up, feels frantic to get Even as deep as possible, to fill him up, to completely surround him, to be as close as you can possibly get. He keeps making these tiny, huffy sounds to communicate what he wants, what he’s feeling to Even without actually saying any words. He’s so desperate he doesn’t realize just how close he really is, doesn’t realize that all he needed was the tip of Even’s dick sliding along his spot to make him come.

He moans like he’s dying. It’s so much, he’s so sensitive, and it’s so soon after the first one. He’s barely had any time to breathe.

Even swears behind him, one hand clamping down on his hip, except the negligee is caught in-between and has his hand immediately sliding down to the crease between his groin and his thigh.

The fabric is getting stickier with each movement that makes Isak’s come spread. Isak feels it as it slides along his skin, getting stuck momentarily and occasionally. Even swears once again when he notices it.

“Baby, look at you,” Even groans, and Isak can’t.

His cheeks are burning. He came from just having Even slip inside of him, he can barely breathe. All he’s seemingly able to do is clutch onto the arm Even wraps around him as if he’ll float away if Even lets go.

“You’re like a living wet dream, you know that?” Even’s breath feels hot against the shell of Isak’s ear. All of Even feels hot where he’s pressed against his back, hips now moving back and forth. Isak feels hot. “So gorgeous, and wearing something like that? Baby. Can’t believe how good you look right now, how much it means to me that you’ll let me see you like this. Do you know how jealous other people would be if they got to witness you like this? Got to see how good I make you feel, but know that they won’t ever get to touch you, because you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yours,” Isak agrees breathlessly, turning his head into the pillow, into the crook of Even’s arm that he’s managed to worm underneath his body and fold around him securely. He smells like sweat and sex and them and Isak feels completely dizzy with it.

“Mine,” Even agrees, “just like I’m yours,” and then they’re moving.

Not as in Even picks up the speed, but as in he starts literally moving them whilst he’s still inside of Isak.

Isak lets out an alarmed, choked up noise and digs his nails into Even’s arm as he feels his center of gravity shift from his side as Even maneuvers the both of them onto their knees instead.

The slick fabric of the negligee runs along the dip of his back, leaving where he’s spread open around Even exposed to the warm, morning air, especially when Even shifts his weight more firmly onto his knees, pulling back and leaving Isak’s back exposed as well.

It gives Even a better angle, makes him sink in deeper than Isak would’ve thought was possible, makes him feel full and desperate all at once and way too soon.

“Beautiful from every angle,” Even tells him, and Isak’s cheeks feel scorching at the thought of the sight Even must be looking at right now. “This dress looks so good on you, baby, such a lovely color. It matches your pretty, pink lips, doesn’t it?”

Isak doesn’t have any air left in his lungs, can’t even moan to let Even know how pleased he is that he likes the negligee, so he tries to clench down on Even instead.

It makes Even groan deeply in his throat, but it also makes him feel so much bigger inside and it makes Even’s hips jump unpredictably. When Isak’s dick jumps in response it hurts because of how soon it is, but he’s already filling up, so much hot blood being pumped around in his system, all of it gathering around his center.

Even folds his body back over Isak’s, his lips pressing small, biting kisses along the straps of the chemise. Isak knows he’ll bruise from it, but right now the sting of it just makes his entire body sing, and Even being so close just makes it feel like he’s so deep, getting deeper and deeper every time he grinds down. He’s just moving his hips in small circles at this point, probably knows what he’s doing to Isak.

Definitely knows what he’s doing to Isak, Isak rectifies, when at the next roll his dick jumps to full hardness in mere seconds. Isak keens into the pillow in response. When he’s stopped, he hears Even tutting softly at him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, one hand curling underneath Isak’s chest, the other over his stomach – far up enough that there’s no danger of accidentally touching Isak’s cock no matter how much Isak tries to jerk his hips to make it happen. “I can’t have you muffle your noises, baby, not when they’re as pretty as you are.”

Isak doesn’t know what he expects will happen, if it just means Even will lift him up far enough to remove the pillows or what. He hadn’t thought that Even would move them again, not already, but he is. He’s pulling back upright, but this time he’s bringing Isak with him.

Isak’s back is plastered against Even’s chest, held in place by Even’s arms. The lacey cups scratch against his right nipple whenever Even moves the arm he has folded around his chest.

Like this, Isak’s practically sitting in Even’s lap, and it’s so reminiscent of how this morning started out, but now Even isn’t underneath Isak between his thighs, and Isak doesn’t have the leverage to move, to direct the angle and speed like he’d had this morning. Even can do that now, is the only one out of the two of them who is able to do it.

Even tightens his arms around Isak, slides them a little closer to each other, and then he lifts Isak up, a couple of inches off of his dick, and then helps him move back down again.

It’s painfully slow, and the chemise is the only reason why they aren’t currently getting a rug-burn from their sweaty skin sticking together, dragging against each other.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Even asks him, teeth grazing the back of his neck with every word.

Isak can only shiver in response.

“The club,” Even takes pity on him, probably aware that Isak isn’t in a state to play a guessing game. “How I had you against me like this, how we were moving exactly like this to the song they were playing. I remember how many boys were watching us, watching you, watching how lewdly you were moving your body, like all you wanted was me inside of you, like I already was inside of you, and you were being a little tease, just keeping me warm, not enough to make me come.”

Fuck. Isak’s hand twitches. He wants to reach down and touch himself, but he’s already come twice, it’ll be absolute torture to get any direct stimulation when his entire body is already wrecked with sensitivity.

“What if we went back there like this?”

Screw this, Isak does not even need a hand on his dick, he’s so close to coming already. He just got fully hard again, how is this possible? How does Even make him this desperate every goddamn time?

“Just like this. Just you wearing your pretty dress, looking absolutely stunning. They’d be able to see everything, wouldn’t they? They’d be able to see your pretty nipples through the lace, how puffy they get when I’ve had my hands on them for the entire night. They’d be able to see your clit, especially once I’ve made you come a couple of times. You’ll get the fabric so wet from how desperate you are that it’ll be see-through, they’ll be able to see everything. They’ll be able to tell how good you can be, not needing to touch yourself even once, that’s how good I can make you feel.”

Even’s hands slide down further, settling on his hips so he can move him quicker, picking up the speed until he’s bouncing in his lap. It means Even can’t keep him as firmly pressed against his chest, so Isak tips forward just far enough that he has to support himself with just his fingers against the mattress. It’s difficult now that Even’s pounding into him as quickly as he is.

His dick swings at the next thrust, slapping wetly against his stomach, making Isak keen. It’s not enough, not enough to make him come, but it’s still too much.

And then it’s suddenly more than enough, because Even is pounding mercilessly at the perfect angle, is probably leaving bruises behind on his hips with the grip he has on him, the dull throbbing feels oddly gentle through the chemise, and all it takes is a word from Even, telling him how good he makes Even feel when he comes, and then he’s doing just that. For the third time this morning. A weak spurt that makes his entire body tingle, all the way down to his toes, and turns all of his limbs into jelly.

Isak tips forward, can’t even help it. His body feels loose and like jelly, and it’s difficult to control. The bed sheet will mean friction, but Isak doubts it’ll even feel good at this point. It’ll just be one more thing that’s too much.

Even manages to catch him, one arm around his waist and one big hand pressed against his chest, and he’s still not touching his dick. He lowers him down until he’s hovering over the bed, then slowly pulls out so he can turn Isak around.

The sheets feel heavenly cool against his back.

Even’s panting where he’s hovering above him, his dick red and so fucking hard, Isak can’t remember the last time he saw Even this hard. It must be painful at this point, holding back for as long as Even has, long enough to make sure Isak will come six times in a row.

He places his hand on top of Isak’s stomach, just holding it there, a warm, comforting presence. He thumb sweeps against the line of his ribs, then along the edge of the lace.

Smoothes the fabric down, lets the silk rest against Isak’s skin before rucking it all up again. The slide of it tickles, but Isak can hardly move let alone do something about it.

“Like this,” Even whispers, “I love it like this, when I get to look at you. I love looking at you.”

Isak can’t move, but he sure can squirm. His body heats up way too quickly at Even’s words, because Isak likes it when Even looks at him. He can literally feel his eyes on him, knows when he’s purely admiring him and when he thinks he looks cute and also moments like this one where Even’s thoughts are elsewhere in another place that also involves Isak.

He can’t concentrate when he can feel Even’s eyes on him.

Right now, they seem to be centered on one place specifically. The whiteness of the lace just serves to make his puffy, sore nipples from Even’s fingers earlier stand out even more. He bites down on his tongue in preparation of Even doing something, anything as he’s wont to doing.

Isak just hadn’t expected that that something would be two things at once.

Even’s already between his thighs, and Isak is so lose and open he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, but it still sends a shock up his spine when Even presses in, even as he goes about it kindly and softly enough that Isak’s oversensitivity isn’t protesting too much.

Normally, getting Even inside whether it be the first time or the second or the night of the night – or morning in this case – is enough to make something in Isak snap in the best way possible, but this time when Even’s hips are nearly pressed all the way against Isak’s cheeks, he leans down and gets his mouth along the edge of the lace.

Isak can see the traces of spit on his skin or remaining as dark patches as the fabric soaks up the liquid.

“Can’t believe I haven’t gotten around to tasting you yet,” Even murmurs, his lips moving against Isak’s skin in the worst tease possible, and then he closes his mouth around the bud through the lace.

Isak can’t describe the noise he makes. Can’t keep his body from trying to curl up, his knees drawing up high around Even’s waist when there’s literally nowhere for him to go for Even’s bulk pressing him down. It just makes it easier for Even to sink in those last couple of inches in one smooth go, which causes another array of noises to slip out of Isak’s mouth.

It’s so much. It’s too much. His dick is already trying desperately to get hard again, is succeeding in getting hard again despite how soon it really is.

“Three,” he mumbles through gritted teeth, not sure if it’s to remind Even or himself of it. It’s still then it hits him. “Halfway. Fuck, we’re only halfway. I’m going to die.”

Even laughs, his teeth catching against the lace. Isak whines.

“Imagine that eulogy, though,” Even points out, utterly annoying and so distracting when he decides to move his hips just so. “’Got dicked down so good by his boyfriend that he died right then and there.’”

“Shut up,” Isak groans, immediately wishing he hadn’t when Even decides to occupy his mouth in another way.

His body tries to curl in on itself, but it can’t, not when Even is covering him like this. It just opens his hips up wider, makes it easier for Even to sink in deeper and deeper until Isak physically cannot draw in another breath.

He wouldn’t be able to grab his dick like this even if he’d wanted to, so he busies his hands with Even’s hair instead, running his fingers through it until it stands up wildly.

“I’m serious,” Isak’s voice cracks when one particular movement sends him bouncing on the bed. His breathing is so goddamn loud and incredibly uneven. “Six – Even, I don’t think I can.”

He whines when Even pauses, stills when he’s only halfway inside of him. Isak tries to squirm further down the bed, tries to encourage Even to start moving again without saying anything.

But Even doesn’t start moving again. Not his hips, anyway, not the part of his body that Isak’s blood is begging for him to move. He does move his mouth away from Isak’s rather abused nipple, the cold air hardening the nub, making it a thousand times more sensitive than when Even had had his mouth on it as the wet lace drags across the peak.

“Isak,” Even shifts so he’s resting his weight on his elbows, bracketing Isak with them, making it so Isak has no choice but to look up at him. He makes sure to do it with dismay, though, at Even’s sudden decision of inactivity, even as it means it’s easier to catch his breath. “Do you really think we would be doing this, if I didn’t think you could?”

Something burns hot inside of Isak’s stomach at the words, at the thought that Even knows his body so well, knows his limits and where he can push, what is safe to do and what wouldn’t be. That he literally knows how to make Isak experience sensations he wouldn’t be able to dream about.

“N-no,” he stutters, not because he’s unsure, but because he wants.

Not that he hadn’t wanted it a minute ago, or the minute before that, or the one before that, or any of the minutes since Even had put the option out there for Isak to recognize.

There’s still a part of him, at the back of his head, gnawing at his brain that it’s impossible, literally impossible for Even to make him come six times, untouched or not, but it’s the same part that had said five times were too many times as well. It’s also very alike to the other part, the part that had told him he shouldn’t want to wear panties or makeup or to feel pretty, not when he was a boy.

“Isak,” Even groans, actually closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, as if he has to force his body down from the edge.

Isak places his hands gently around Even’s biceps, waits nearly patiently for Even to open his eyes again. He blinks innocently up at him once he does.

“Do you have any idea of what you look like right now?”

It immediately feels like a punch to the gut, because the implications of Even looking at him always serves to make him feel hotter than the sun.

“Of what you looked like just then? You got so tight around me, baby, nearly made me come again. And your eyes got so dark. Were you thinking about it? About how you are going to feel after six times?”

Isak forces his upper back up from the bed, has to hide his face away in Even’s neck, has to. He presses his nose into the sweaty skin, lets all of his senses be filled with Even, with safety.

Even lowers himself down further to make it easier for Isak, being careful to keep his hips and stomach propped up the entire time.

His hold on Even’s arms surprisingly make it easier for Isak to keep himself from scooting up the bed when Even starts to move his hips in short, hard jabs that make Isak’s breath hitch.

“How sensitive do you think you’ll be?”

This is torture, absolute and utter torture. Isak bites down on Even’s collarbone, but it does little to nothing to deter him.

“Do you remember how much it was after five times? How you could barely handle me holding you close?”

Isak does remember. He remembers how his body had been begging for Even’s touch, but at the same time had been so overly sensitized that even the sheets against his back had made him want to cry.

“How do you think you’ll feel after six?” Even wonders, then covers Isak’s mouth with his own as if he can sense just how hard and how much Isak is about to swear at him.

Isak can’t handle much coordination right now, is failing rather incredibly at moving his lips in tandem with Even’s, but Even doesn’t mind. He loves this, Isak knows, loves when he gets Isak like this, and he loves that when they kiss like this – if you can call it kissing – that it’s practically just a way for him to smear Isak’s lipstick all over his mouth, make everything look slick and shiny and Isak himself completely fucked out.

Even groans when he pulls back to see it. Isak’s hands slide down his arms to his elbows, to his wrist, then left floundering in the air as he tries to grab onto something tangible. He ends up with his fingers curling into the pillows underneath his head, and it’s not until he’s got a proper hold on them that he realizes he’s practically spread himself out for Even to look at.

And Even is definitely looking.

“God, baby,” Even says, awed. A hand sweeps against Isak’s side, making him squirm from sensitivity. “You’re so wet,” and Isak wouldn’t even know where Even’s talking about – if it’s his dick steadily leaking, or hole so full of lube and come – if it weren’t for Even’s blown pupils staring intently at where Isak’s dick is lying hard against his stomach with pools of cooling come. It colors the chemise darker where it touches, leaving it even further translucent than it had already been. Approximately the entire bottom of the front is at this point see-through, Isak’s dick fully visible, the fabric going as far as sticking to his skin, molding itself to him.

Another drop of pre-come blurts out of his tip. Fuck, it shouldn’t be this hot, Isak shouldn’t feel this close again already, but he does.

And even worse, Even knows he does, because he always gets that infuriating, smug look on his face, so goddamn proud that he’s gotten Isak to this point, that he’s made him so desperate, that he’s made him feel this good. Isak tries to scowl at him in response, but he can’t, not when Even is being so good to him.

Or the fucking worst, Isak changes his mind, because Even knows him, and knowledge is a powerful, dangerous tool that makes it possible for Even to say, “Just look at your clit,” and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that all Even has to do is say five words – one word in particular – and Isak is coming again. For the fourth time.

It’s a wounded noise that tears itself out of Isak’s throat. He’s definitely bordering the line between pain and pleasure by now, and this time he seriously cannot get any air into his lungs.

Even must be able to tell, because he slows down, doesn’t just continue as if Isak hasn’t come yet, or like it doesn’t matter if he has or hasn’t come yet, because he’s there for Even to make him come again and again and again.

Isak’s dick twitches violently against his stomach, struggling to get hard again.

“Four,” Even whispers, soft and sweet and almost overwhelmed because of Isak.

Four, Isak repeats in his mind, feels his heart tug oddly at the number. It had technically been the goal the first time, because that’s how many times Jonas had managed to make a girl come untouched, and then Even had just decided to up the ante on the spot.

He still remembers how he’d felt the first time; how his body had felt like molten lava, how he’d been swimming in what he’d thought at the time to be utmost euphoria, how he’d tightened up like a bowstring when Even had started to wonder about the possibility of a fifth time.

He remembers how it had felt when he’d dragged Even home from the club, when Even had made him come for the fourth time, sitting on one of their chairs whilst he was still partly dressed, sweating through the tight clothes. The material of his trousers had scraped against Isak’s bare thighs, had made everything feel like so much more from the pain until Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but cling to Even. He remembers desperately thinking, ‘one more left’.

Now he has to think ‘two more left.’

It’s a startlingly large difference considering how it’s only one number higher.

One number brings, apparently, a very large difference.

“You’re dripping with it,” Even’s fingers dance over the wet fabric, down, down, down, over his hips, digging into his inner thighs.

It should be biologically impossible for Isak’s cheeks to burn hotter than they already are, but the implications of what Even’s saying. That it’s not only because Even’s made him come four times, it’s also that he’s literally dripping with it, his body so desperate to get Even inside that it’ll do anything to make the process go smoothly.

Suddenly, Isak doesn’t feel wet enough. He wants to feel like he’s actually ‘getting wet’ down there, wants to be dripping with it, like Even had said he was, wants for Even’s dick, his pubic hair, his groin, his thighs to be shining with slick when he pulls his hips back.

He wants for Even to know, to be able to see and feel how much he wants him, all the fucking time.

It’s like Even can tell what he’s thinking, Isak only has to whine at him once before he’s reaching over for the lube Isak had left on the bedside table when Even had still been asleep. The lid pops open as audibly as ever, just the sound enough to make Isak clench down on Even reflexively in anticipation.

He doesn’t even pull out to do it, just pours the lube directly over where they’re connected and then fucks it into Isak with every thrust. The noises are positively lewd and Isak blushes a bright red, cheeks heating up at the sound and the feeling.

“So fucking wet for me,” Even mumbles, and Isak can’t tell if he’s talking about the pools of come cooling on his stomach, about his dick still steadily leaking pre-come and raring to go despite how many times he’s already come by now, or about where Even’s fucking lube and his own come inside of him, over and over again.

No matter what, Isak shivers with it, dick twitching and doing its best to fill up entirely despite being so spent. He can’t stop making small sounds every time Even moves, every time he breathes. He feels like he’s floating and the only thing that’s keeping him tethered to the world is Even.

“I wonder…” Even mutters to himself most likely, Isak barely catching the words and then taking a while to understand them. His brain feels like mush.

If he hadn’t already come four times, he probably would’ve had the capacity of paying more attention, probably would’ve figured it out when Even grabs hold of both his wrists with one hand, his now free left hand brushing over his cheekbone, following the line of his jaw line, his throat, the sweetheart-cut of the negligee, his sternum, his stomach, hips, upper thighs. And Isak thinks it’s just to touch, to get a better grip, change the angle, maybe, despite not needing it and knowing Even also knows he doesn’t need to.

But there are so many other sensations to pay attention to – Even inside him, around him, on top of him, the cool chemise against his skin making his body sing from too much stimulation – that he doesn’t pay attention to when Even’s fingers start to move up. Up along his inner thigh, up to his groin, up to where Even’s splitting him open.

When he does notice, he thinks that maybe Even’s just going to curl them around the base of his own dick to starve off his orgasm until he’s made Isak come again. He does not think that Even twirling one of his fingers around in the mess of lube of come leaking out of Isak, tickling the skin around his rim, has any other purpose than just to touch.

Even taps his finger against the top of his hole, right below his balls and perineum and above where he’s split open and being used. Isak bites off a whimper at each tap, breath coming out short until he can’t keep in the sounds.

And then, on the next thrust in, both so quickly that Isak doesn’t figure it out until it’s happening, but so slowly that he feels every single bit of it, Even slides his finger in alongside his dick, all the way down to his last knuckle.

The wail Isak lets out doesn’t sound human.

He’s floating, everything is so much and yet faded from around him. Isak can’t even feel his own body, can only feel Even where he’s spreading his thighs open and where he’s hovering above him and where he’s practically splitting him open with both his dick and a finger, curled expertly and torturously against the overstimulated, swollen nub inside of Isak.

“Alright, that was a bit mean of me, wasn’t it?” Even coos, voice soft and completely unapologetic. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. Take a deep breath for me, it’s okay, you can stop crying now.”

Is he crying? He hadn’t noticed. Isak accidentally hiccups when he tries to let the deep breath out.

“There you go. God, what a sight you are. So fucking pretty,” and Even sounds… awed. And like he believes it.

Isak doubts there’s anything attractive about him right now. He’s sweaty and feels like someone has taken the inside of his skin and flipped it the wrong side out, he’s so overly sensitized. And if he’s been crying, his face will probably be red and blotchy.

Even’s hand is sticky where he’s placed it on Isak’s thigh. Isak hadn’t even noticed him pulling his finger out again. His dick is still inside of him, at least he hasn’t missed that much. He’s leaving a trace of lube on Isak’s skin where he’s softly, soothingly smoothing his thumb in gentle circles to help Isak calm down.

And then he naturally has to say something that will make Isak do the opposite.

“Can’t wait for the day where your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve come at least four times, where you’ll still want it, won’t stop wanting it even as your body screams for relief.”

Always want you, Isak wants to say, but he doesn’t have the air for it, can’t work out the muscles to do it with.

He can’t stop moving, literally can’t make his body stop shivering and shuffling. He’s thrashing so badly Even has to tighten his grip around his wrist and lean his chest down on Isak’s, keeping his lower half propped up awkwardly to avoid accidentally providing friction to Isak’s cock.

“Last one,” he gasps, reminds Even, he can’t even tell at this point. He has no idea how he’s managed to keep count.

Even cups his cheek in his hand, wiping over sticky skin from residue tears. He looks positively awed. “God, you’re amazing. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Isak is the lucky one, he wants to tell him, but then Even moves his hips in slow rotations that make Isak choke on his tongue and the words.

It’s so much. It’s so much. Isak can’t feel that he’s still lying on the bed, can only feel Even and the chemise somehow still able to slide against his skin, increasing every sensation by a thousand. He can’t tell if he’s hard yet or again or at all, can still feel the pleasure running through his body, feels how the sensitivity is making him cling to Even harder and harder.

Even, who is absolutely lovely. The loveliest person Isak has ever met, who is so unbelievably kind. He hasn’t moved away to get a better angle or better purchase on the bed or anything, has instead stayed down, covering Isak’s body with his own and has let Isak cling on to him as tightly as he wants to. Isak is sure that Even’s thighs must be shaking from the exertion by now, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word about it. Just keeps pressing tiny kisses to Isak’s hairline, his temple, the corner of his eye to lick away stray tears.

“Just one more,” Even reminds him, “then I’ll come inside of you again. Do you want that? Do you want to still be full of me once I’ve pulled out? Do you want to feel me inside of you, slowly dripping out?”

Isak whines, thrashes as much as he can underneath Even��s bulk, which isn’t a lot. His fingernails are leaving scratches down Even’s back in desperation. His body keeps telling him that this is too much, but his brain just keeps wanting more.

“One more,” he gasps, agreeing, commenting, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell.

He keeps making these tiny, little noises, he knows, because he can feel the vibrations of it in his throat, but the sound is distant, like it’s coming from another room. The only thing Isak knows with certainty is Even, so Isak opens his eyes – not sure of when he’d closed them – and focuses on Even.

His hair is curling around the edges from sweat and he is looking positively gorgeous.

He’s the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen in this entire world. There’s almost something poetic in how he comes like that, looking wide-eyed up at Even in complete admiration of him as Even is carefully, methodically moving his hips in a pattern that should have him avoid coming before Isak has, but is also little enough that Isak still feels good from it, hasn’t fallen over the pleasure-pain edge to the bad side.

He comes with a hitched breath, completely dry, nothing left in his body to spurt out. His dick just twitches weakly against his stomach, barely anything more than half hard.

The noises come afterwards.

Isak keens. He thinks he might be repeating Even’s name, over and over again as if in a prayer, he can’t tell, can’t hear it over the many, many sensations his body is feeling, is trying to sort through.

The next thing he’s certain of is Even moaning in his ear, and after a thrust that had been harder than the previous ones Isak can feel him twitching inside of him, and then he feels a different kind of wetness inside.

If he hadn’t literally come six times already, he probably would’ve gotten hard from that.

God. God. Fuck.

Six times.

Six times. They actually did it.

“Oh my god,” Even gasps, still buried deep inside of Isak.

It’s starting to hurt by now. Isak tries to wiggle his hips to get Even to slide out of him, but he can’t move. He might’ve actually died after all, holy Christ.

He’s sticky all over, is practically leaking a mixture of lube and Even’s come, not to mention the many loads of come drying on his skin or already soaked up by the negligee. Isak will probably have to buy a new one, no amount of washing will be able to save that thing now.

“I love you,” Even tells him out of the blue, still inside of him and on top of him and starting to stick to him as well. “Do I tell you that enough? I don’t think I do. I’m so in fucking love with you.”

Isak can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his legs; pretty much the only thing he can feel is where he’s still stretched around Even as he’s slowly softening inside of him and a few other parts of his body where he’s touching Even. He cannot move and he has precious little air inside of his lungs, and yet he’s so overcome with just how much he’s also in love with Even.

He’s chuckling with it, unsure of where he has gotten the breath to do it. It’s interrupted with a hurt, croaked hitch of air when Even is too soft to stay inside of him any longer, slipping out on accident.

Isak tries to work his thighs up around Even’s waist, tries to grab onto his arms, his back, anything to get him to stay where he is right now.

It’s painful, definitely way too many sensations and stimuli for Isak to handle Even being as close as he is right now, but the thought of Even pulling away, even if it’s just to lie next to him, is unbearable to handle.

“I love you,” Even tells him again, breathing a little steadier now, but Isak thinks his eyes may be wet. He can’t tell properly, because Even is too close, is too busy pressing wet, hot kisses against his temple as he tries to soothe him back to earth. “Isak, baby, with or without all of this, I fucking love you.”

Isak manages to turn his head far enough that he can press his lips against Even’s jaw. His slight stubble scratches against his lips when he starts to talk. “Does that mean you’ll buy me another negligee? We’ve ruined this one.”

Even laughs, a little too wet for Isak to believe he isn’t crying right now.

“Baby,” he coos, drawing back far enough that he can kiss Isak, again and again, tiny, little kisses that are bordering on too much still. “I’ll buy you hundreds, anything you want, it’s yours. And then I’ll make you come six times every single time you wear one. God, Isak, six times. I can’t wrap my head around it. Do you know how amazing you are?”

He feels it – six times, that is. And amazing, too, he thinks. It’s still too soon to be able to distinguish anything that Isak feels other than worn out, so he puckers his lips and waits for Even to kiss him again.

Even complies with a smile, because, of course he does. Just tiny, little pecks, nothing that actually requires for them to move too much, not even their lips.

It’s so good. It’s the best – or, one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even. Everything that they do is one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even.

“I love you,” he whispers, knows that Even will be able to hear him.

He expects to get another kiss, maybe another dozen or so. He does not expect for Even to pause, hovering over him, far enough away that Isak doesn’t have the ability to reach up and kiss him himself. He raises a questioning eyebrow instead, knows that even if Even isn’t kissing him, he’s still got all of his attention.

“Six times,” Even clarifies, except it isn’t clarifying at all.

“I know,” Isak says, a little too sassy for how worn out he is. “I was there. I’m very much aware of how many times six times are.”

Even shakes his head. “No, baby, six times. That’s more than five.”

Isak’s brain might not be the only one that’s melted during this experience.

Even’s eyes are a little wild, but there’s a teasing tilt to the corner of his mouth that Isak does not trust.

“We can’t high five as an answer when the boys ask what the record is anymore.”

Oh my god. Oh, my, god.

Even manages to keep a straight face despite the very something look that Isak is giving him. He sighs, world-weary and way too goddamn dramatic. “Well,” he draws out, “I guess we’ll just have to go for ten, two high fives.”

“Oh my god!” Isak can’t keep it in this time, pushing at Even with weak arms and legs to get him away. “Get off of me. Oh my god, I hate you, what the fuck, Even.”

Even is laughing, the bastard, the absolute idiot, Isak can’t stand him.

“You love me,” Even teases, already turned onto his side so he can kiss Isak’s cheek, his temple, his jaw, anywhere that he can get close enough to for Isak’s flailing arms.

“I’m leaving you,” Isak counters petulantly. “As soon as I can feel my legs, I’m leaving you.”

“You can’t feel your legs because I fucked you so well,” Even reminds him, voice suddenly an octave deeper. He’s so warm where his skin is touching Isak, even through the now ruined chemise.

Isak’s breath gets caught in his throat. He’s aching all over, his skin still feels like it’ll be preferable to just tear it straight off, Even shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

“I will fuck you up,” Isak threatens, but it comes out too soft, nothing like a warning at all.

Even looks at him particularly adoringly. “I’m already fucked up over you,” knows it means I love you.

Isak groans. He can’t even turn around to bury his head in the pillows so he won’t have to look at the deplorably loving look on Even’s face, the absolute sap.

“I can’t tell if I want you to never touch me again or if I want you to kiss me,” he tells him instead.

It’s not a lie, and it’s not even because Even is horrible and the most wonderful person Isak has ever met who says such stupid things. It’s because he can’t tell that he’s lying the right way around on the bed, can’t even tell that he is in fact lying on the bed. It’s because Even made him come six times in one go, and he literally cannot think because of it.

Even smiles at him softly, reaches one hand out and places it on Isak’s head, behind his ear, as if he’ll run his fingers through his hair. Isak won’t be able to handle that, though, not so many sensations as that’ll bring, and Even knows that, so he just rests it there, doesn’t card his hand through sweaty, golden curls. He does drag his thumb against the shell of Isak’s ear, just lightly enough that it doesn’t make Isak try to squirm away.

“Kiss you,” Isak decides before Even can suggest something else, like going to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, even as he’s already feeling his eyelids practically fall shut. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, slowly shuffling closer. “Just lie there. Be good, and I’ll kiss you. And if you fall asleep, that’s okay, too, baby.”

“Won’t,” Isak protests, wants to lean closer to get Even’s lips on his faster, but Even had told him to stay there and be good, so he does that instead. “I’m going to kiss you. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Even agrees without a fuss, but Isak can tell he’s doing it just to placate him.

He doesn’t complain, though, because then Even is kissing him, tiny little pecks again, just lips dragging against lips.

Isak stays awake long enough that his body isn’t tingling with nerves anymore, long enough that he can handle Even gathering him closer, can handle being pressed against Even’s chest. It feels a little weird, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Isak to realize it’s because of the chemise keeping his skin separate from Even.

He falls asleep with his lips still pressed against Even’s.

OOOOO

“Who ended up winning the game, by the way?” Magnus asks out of the blue when Mahdi scores another goal against Jonas.

It’s just embarrassing at this point.

“Huh?” Isak wrinkles his nose. “They’re still playing. Are you feeling alright?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and bats Isak’s hands away as he goes to check his temperature. “No, not the match, the game. You know, between Jonas and Even. Who won?”

Isak blinks as Magnus’ words catch up to him. Then – “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Magnus.”

“What?” Magnus knocks his arms out dramatically, accidentally catching Mahdi on the shoulder. “Am I the only one who is curious?”

“Yes,” Isak grumbles as Jonas just laughs at him.

Magnus rolls his eyes at him whilst, deliberately this time, he puffs at Mahdi’s shoulder to prompt him to agreement. “Come on,” he groans. “It went on for so long, and now, nothing. I know nothing about Evak’s sex life anymore.”

Isak’s entire face is scrunched up at this point. “Just like you shouldn’t?”

“Lighten up, Issy,” Jonas’ elbow digs its way into the arch of Isak’s foot, not willing to stray his attention away from the screen for any more than that. “We’re just teasing.”

Magnus grimaces. “No, I genuinely want to know.”

“Magnus –“ Isak groans, but doesn’t get to finish his complaining for Mahdi breaking in.

“I had expected it would end in, like, some big finale,” Mahdi admits, tossing the controller at Jonas when his players on screen do a victory lap around the field. “Not as abruptly as it did.”

“Well, if you two hadn’t blabbed…” Jonas reminds them, laughing harder than Isak would’ve expected from someone who just lost a FIFA match to Mahdi.

“It literally wasn’t a secret!” Magnus points out indignantly, turning to Isak as if he expects him to agree.

Honestly.

He turns his attention back to Jonas instead when he realizes that that definitely isn’t happening.

“Are you seriously telling me you and Even haven’t worked out who is the winner?” Magnus asks Jonas who, thankfully, suddenly is very busy picking out a new team to play as.

“Bro…” Jonas starts, but doesn’t finish. That is why Isak knows Jonas is a traitor who has been conversing with Even over who the ‘winner’ is.

And now everyone else in the room knows as well.

Magnus squeaks loudly a little too close to Isak’s ear for him to not flinch away, jumping around on the bed, and Mahdi is clapping and shouting like a madman.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Magnus begs, belly-flopping onto the mattress that decidedly does not fit four fully-grown teenage boys. His torso lands across Isak’s legs, and Isak only takes mild enjoyment in the knowledge that it had hurt Magnus more than it had hurt him. “Jonas, tell me!”

“We know literally everything else,” Mahdi points out, and Isak’s cheeks do not heat up, they don’t. “Seriøst, just tell us.”

Jonas shrugs, but he’s laughing goofily, and Isak can’t tell if he’s looking over at him from the corner of his eye or if he’s looking anywhere but at Isak.

“It, uh –“ Jonas licks his lips. For every second he doesn’t speak, Isak’s heart rate spikes. “It really isn’t all that important.”

“Uh,” Magnus protests, “yeah, it is. Come on. Be a bro.”

Isak snorts and starts to push Magnus’ body off of his legs. “Stop. All of you.”

“I didn’t even do any-“ Jonas starts to protest.

“All of you,” Isak insists, curling his legs up when they’re finally free from Magnus’ bulk. “No more questions, no more inquiries, no more whatever you want to call it –“

He’s interrupted by the front door opening and Even yelling out, “Halla,” and giving Isak specifically a soft, “Hei, baby.”

He’s got his schoolbag slung over his shoulder and another bag in his hand, because today’s shoot required so many different tools Isak had lost count as Even had gotten ready this morning.

“Even, please,” Magnus begs, masterly avoiding Isak’s hands when he tries to shove him into the mattress. “Tell me who won!”

Even’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, a little bit of a shy smile slowly unfolding across his face. “What?”

“The game!” Magnus insists unhelpfully. “Who won?”

“They won’t tell us,” Mahdi finally tries to help, scooting forward towards the edge when Isak tries to kick out at him. “Who won, you or Jonas?”

“Oh!” Even’s mouth drops open comically in the perfect ‘o’-shape possible as he slings off his backpack.

Isak groans. “Do not –“ but he doesn’t get further than that before Even the name of the winner has left Even’s mouth.

“Isak,” Even replies without any hesitance whatsoever. He doesn’t even react when Magnus’ eyes go comically wide and Jonas goes a bit pink and Mahdi glances suspiciously between the four of them as if they’re setting up a prank.

“Huh?” Magnus asks, looking intensely at Even before his gaze switches over to Isak, then back to Even. “Huh?”

“The winner,” Even shrugs. “Isak won.”

“How?” Mahdi asks. “He wasn’t even aware of the game! He didn’t participate!”

“Well –” Jonas starts to object to just what degree Isak had been participating, technically, but stops when all he receives for his troubles is Isak’s foot digging into his lower back.

Magnus’ finger digging into Isak’s side draws his attention away from Jonas.

“What did you do?” he asks, poking him again before Isak can bat his hands away. “How did you win – what did you –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, tone serious. “I am telling you right now, you do not want to know what I did.”

Magnus blinks. Blinks again. Then a wide grin splits across his face as he waggles his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, just one thing, just tell me one thing!”

“Trust me, man,” Jonas begins a new match despite no one holding the other controller. Hopefully this just means he’ll actually get to win for once. “I know the bare minimum, and I am telling you right now, don’t ask questions.”

Isak levels a glare at the back of Jonas’ head. He knows he’ll be able to feel it. “And you are to never repeat any of it.”

“Holy fuck,” Mahdi swears, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t believe – Jesus Christ.”

“Better start believing it, then,” Even says, finally putting down the last bag. “Because Isak won the game. But –“ he bounds over towards the side of the bed where Isak is perched up against the wall. “– in terms of real life, I am the obvious winner because I get to have this wonderful boyfriend –“

“Ugh,” three of the boys immediately groan.

For once Isak doesn’t complain. Mostly because he’s too busy kissing Even quiet.

“I’m also the winner there, though,” he protests, raising an eyebrow teasingly at his boyfriend.

Even only gets his mouth open before Mahdi interrupts. “If the two of you start some weird, lovey-dovey version of a 90’s chick-flick, ‘no, you hang up first!’ I will walk.”

“Okay,” Even replies, worming a knee between Isak’s thighs so he can tower over Isak. “More room on the bed, then.”

“Do not –“ Jonas warns, but he’s laughing, even as Isak manages to smash one of the pillows into the back of his head.

Even is the one who gets hit in return, but only because he’s hovering over Isak, covering his body so he can kiss him the way Isak particularly likes.

Yeah, Isak thinks as Even is laughing, pulling back so he can throw the pillow back at the boys. Isak really is the winner.

#Beat That Record #evak fanfiction #evak #skam fanfiction #Skam #skam norway #Dutten-does-the-fanfic

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