#this is more hurt than comfort but i hope it satisfies u nonetheless

[aizawasthot]

better on you | aizawa s.

summary: ice cream nd stolen sweaters. goofy aizawa x reader.  pairing: aizawa shouta x reader word count: 1.9k words

note: ok so hey this is my first fic in this account uwu feedback is appreciated and encouraged hehe. ALSO NGL THIS WAS INSPIRED BY @burnedbyshoto’s sweater scenario w aizawa 🥺🥴 hope u guys enjoy all this aizawa fluff :> ps. Aizawa smells like bath & body works’ eucalyptus and spearmint and no u can’t change my mind

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Aizawa, we really need to finish this proposal for next week. Principal Nezu probably expects that we’re done by now,” you groan. This proposal for a more efficient and safer course outline was far from finished.

“Yes, I know, [Y/N]. But we’re stuck on where we can hold the summer training. There’s no place near the school that can hold 20 students,” he muttered, looking bored.

“Well, yeah I know that too but we can leave it for another day. We can work on other areas like-”

“Tell you what-- let’s get out of here and grab some ice cream. Ice cream always helps, maybe we can figure it out after,” he interrupted. You were taken aback with his offer, but you accepted nonetheless.

“Oh-- I guess that’s okay,” you replied.

“It’s settled then, you can grab your stuff and we can meet by the teacher’s lounge.” 

-

“Aizawa! You got vanilla? Really?” You snort, shaking your head at the man sitting across from you. “That’s so boring… so… vanilla...?”

“I may like vanilla ice cream but I’m not so vanilla myself,” he smirked at you, teasing and almost a little too uncharacteristic of the usual brooding teacher.

“Aizawa! Oh god--” you sputtered. “That’s not very appropriate,” you said. Your tone stern but your face beet red and a goofy grin spread across your face.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. He looked so relaxed- his brows weren’t furrowed and his usual frown was replaced by this adorable smile. Why did that make your heart flutter?

Still admiring the man in front of you, he interrupted your thoughts, “You’re staring,” he smirked. Oh. OH.

“Apologies,” you mumbled, your face once again heating up. “You're just-- you’re better looking when you’re not, you know, brooding.”

“So you’re saying I’m ugly when I’m brooding?” He feigned being hurt, hand on his chest, laughing.

“You know that’s not what I mean-- it’s just, you know…” You trailed off, eyes not meeting his.

“That I look even more handsome than I do?” He teased.

“Ugh, Aizawa,” you groan. He was being a cheeky bastard and he knew it.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re fun to tease,” he grinned at you, and you finally let your eyes meet. His eyes were twinkling. He looked like an angel, you thought.

You shook your head, “You’re a goofball.”

“Uhuh, and you love it,” he mused. Smile still plastered on his face.

“Hah, you wish,” you stuck your tongue out.

“What are you? 5?” He snorted, his smile growing even wider. 

An employee interrupts your banter as they walk towards your table. “Excuse me sir, ma’am, our store is closing in about 10 minutes. Would you like to get anything else for the night?”

You didn’t even realize that you were the only ones left at the store. “Oh, no, thank you. We better get going then,” you smiled at the young girl. “Thank you, have a good night!”

While you were gathering your things, you realize that the store closes at 10PM, which also happens to be the last run of your bus on the way home. 

“Shit,” you cussed under your breath. I guess I have to either walk or uber, you thought.

“I just realized that the last bus comes in a few minutes and the bus stop is at least a 15 minute walk from here. I’ll probably just uber home though,” you casually shrugged.

“Or-- uhm, you could stay at my place? It’s only a 10 minute walk from here,” he offered. “Only if you want to though! You can totally uber if you want…” AIzawa added, looking sheepish.

“I mean-- well, if it’s okay with you. I don’t want to intrude,” you blushed.

“I offered, didn’t I? Come on, it’s pretty late,” he muttered, gesturing for you to walk beside him. Noticing that his face was also turning red. 

“You’re like an old man,” you giggled. It was 10PM on a Friday night, it’s not like he had to wake up early tomorrow.

“Oh shut up, if you deal with my rambunctious students all the time then you’d know how tiring it is,” he sighed dramatically.

“Okay, old man.”

-

“I can sleep on the couch, Aizawa. It’s not a big deal,” you told him when you arrived at his apartment. He was insisting earlier that you take his bed and he’s sleeping on the couch. Which was ridiculous, you were already crashing at his place.

“Are you sure? Because I’d gladly take the couch. I don’t have a guest room-”

“Aizawa, stop. Don’t be ridiculous, I’m more than okay sleeping on the couch,” you repeated.

“Okay then. I’ll grab you some of my clothes if you want to wash up before bed; the bathroom’s the door on the left,” he pointed at the bathroom door. 

“You don’t need to lend me clothes, AIzawa,” you said, your face heating up again. He was being too nice.

“Shouta.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Shouta,” he clarified. “And-- don’t tell me you’re not going to shower and change your clothes after a full day of sweating from training your students.”

“Okay, Ai- Shouta. Thank you.” You gave in and accepted his offer, and while you sat and waited for him to grab extra clothes for you, you can’t help but notice how cozy his apartment is. His place looks inviting and warm, much like he was with you today.

When he came back to give you your things, you were too busy scrolling through social media to notice him approaching you, he was already showered and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a quite fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but stare.

“You’re staring again,” he snickered, handing you your clothes for the night.

You blushed profusely, abruptly standing from your seat, “I’m just-- I’m gonna go shower now.”

-

You woke up at 3AM freezing cold. Shouta did give you an extra blanket and pillow, but you’re always cold, so it’s not a surprise. You sat up, wanting to grab a glass of water. Walking towards the kitchen, you spotted a grey sweater on the back of one of the chairs. 

It wouldn’t hurt to just borrow it, right? You thought as you grabbed your glass of water. Deciding that you needed another layer other than an oversized shirt and sweatpants so you won’t freeze to death, you grabbed the sweater before you could change your mind.

It smelled like him. It smelled like eucalyptus and spearmint.

You fell asleep almost immediately after putting on his sweater, burying your face into the collar, smiling like an idiot.

-

That morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. You could hear Aizawa softly humming to himself as he shuffled around the kitchen, making breakfast.

You got up and stretched, feeling well rested with a satisfied smile on your face. “Good morning Shouta,” you smiled at him.

“Morning-- wait, is that my sweater?” He said, staring intently at what you’re wearing. Shit, you forgot about the sweater.

“Oh-- uhm, yes. Yes it is. I’m sorry, I can take it off right now, I was just too cold last night and I saw it laying there when I grabbed a cup of water. I swear I didn’t mean to like, steal it or anything. I just needed another layer to, y’know, not freeze to death,” you rambled on, your face flushing for the nth time.

“Oh [Y/N], no no, I was just surprised. You can keep it on, it looks better on you anyway,” he chuckled, leaving you even more flustered.

You buried your face into your hands, feeling like a dumbass. “I’m really sorry, I’ll wash your clothes and give them back,” you mumbled.

 -

After eating breakfast with Shouta, you said your thanks and apologized profusely before leaving and ubering home. When you got home, you washed the shirt and the sweatpants that you insisted on washing; but you left the sweater on and enjoyed the comfort it gave you as you did random tasks.

After spending your afternoon grading papers, you decide to take a break. You also decided to text Shouta, still feeling embarrassed about the sweater situation.

To: Aizawa Shouta Hey, thanks again for letting me crash at your place last night. Anddd sorry again for being bothersome ):

From: Aizawa Shouta I already told you, it’s not a problem. Also, stop saying sorry! I told you, it’s fine

To: Aizawa Shouta Okay okay geez. I’ll give you your clothes back when I see u on monday! :)

From: Aizawa Shouta Alright, sounds good. See you Monday morning :)

The interaction has you feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, and for the rest of the day, Aizawa Shouta was the only thing in your mind.

-

Okay, so here’s the deal. You washed his sweater Sunday night, and you definitely were going to give it back to him, but then, during your walk on the way to UA, the wind picked up and you got chilly. Here’s the kicker: you forgot to bring a jacket. So what did you do? Grab Shouta’s sweater from the bag of his clothes and you wore it. Again. You didn’t even plan to wear it that long, just for the duration of your walk. But of course, you just had to arrive the same time Shouta did.

“Good morning, [Y/N],” he greeted you at the school entrance, eyes already trained on your-- his sweater.

“Good morning, Aizawa,” you muttered, trying to keep your cool as you walk inside.

“You know, I don’t recall that sweater being that comfortable, but if you do find it comfortable, then maybe you should keep it,” he mused, a small smirk forming on his lips. You can already feel your face heating up as you silently hand over the bad with the rest of his clothes.

“I-- I swear I was gonna give it to you today, but you see, I forgot to bring my own jacket and I got cold and--”

“It’s okay,” he laughed as he noticed your face getting redder.

It was not okay. How many times do I have to embarrass myself in front of him? I need to get a grip, you thought to yourself, still walking beside him as you near your respective offices.

“Good morning, Aizawa-sensei! [Y/N]-sensei!” You heard someone call out, only to see it was Midoriya.

“Good morning,” you both greeted.

“Wait-- [Y/N]-sensei, your sweater looks familiar. It looks like All Might’s gift to Aizawa-sensei’s birthday that I helped pick out,” Midoriya said as he examined your clothes.

“Oh-- uh, well--”

“Actually, Midoriya, can you see if Present Mic is here already? He has something that I need,” Aizawa spoke up, saving you from the ever so curious boy. Midoriya enthusiastically nodded and took off almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you sighed in relief. “But also, what? This was All Might’s gift to you? Why’d you let me borrow it? Oh god, Aizawa,” you groaned.

“It’s no big deal, Toshinori always gives me a sweater or a hoodie every year. No complaints though, I love sweaters and hoodies,” he shrugged, opening his office door.

“But it’s still his gift to you,” you insisted, following him into his office. When you were about to take his sweater off, he spoke up.

“Keep it, I already told you it’s fine.”

“But--”

“What are you going to wear when you walk home? It’s probably going to be still cold, so keep it.” His voice sounded so firm and commanding. That’s kinda hot, your brain involuntarily thought.

You blushed at his persistence, and what you just thought about. “Okay, then,” you said. Turning to leave his office.

“And like I said,” You turned your head to look at Shouta, “it looks better on you.” He finished with a wink.

Oh god.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

#aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #bnha fic #bhna fluff #mha fic #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha aizawa #x reader #reader insert #aizawa fanfiction

[strange-changes-ln]

“ Strange Changes. “

Chapter Four: “An Episode.”

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

This is- fine, this is A- for- Alright. Just- enter the elevator. And- And get this box to the Lady already. So… why is he hesitating? Is he nervous? Course. Why not. He made it all the way here, he could probably turn around and go back, but that would’ve been a lot of time, simply wasted. So, he’s just- gonna have to suck it up, and go in. Roger presses the button on the side of the wall, waiting for the constantly rising, and lowering box from behind the metal doors to show up.

This? This is okay. Nothing’s wrong here.

For now, he can just look around for a while, he supposes. With the new sight. He’s still wondering how this happened. Was it merely by chance? Was something or- someone causing this? He highly doubts it’s a someone, but-

“ Janitor? “ A voice. Came from in front of him.

. . . The Lady.

Oh— Oh she was in the- he didn’t- think-

No- focus! Don’t start acting idiotic now, Roger.

“ Ah— My Lady! Uhh- I-I didn’t think you were coming down, you- usually don’t. “ He- tried to his best not to stammer, but it was bound to happen. The Lady slowly moved her way out of the elevator, her kimono making it seem like she wasn’t touching the ground to move. She stared. Silently, at him.

” … “ He blinked, awkwardly. “ I-uh- ahem- brought you something. This was supposed to be given to you. I don’t know why, there wasn’t anyone there when it arrived. The Ferryman just saw the package, with a note, by the dock, saying that it had to be given to you. Don’t know how it arrived, again, it just kind of appeared, and.. and I, uh… “ He glanced back up at the Lady. She was still silent. She- might’ve been getting tired of his ramble. Ah jeez.

“ ..M..My apologies, my Lady, I-I should’ve just given it to, huh. “ He let out a fake chuckle. That- didn’t make this looming, discomforting sense of tension any better.

The Lady simply approached him, looming over his shortened stature. She seemed to…examine him. Something was different about him, something she didn’t see at all before. She stared directly at Roger, technically making ‘eye contact’ with him. Her expression was hidden behind her cream white mask. The Janitor shrunk, just a bit, under her gaze.

” ..um..ah-haha- uh.. m-my Lady?- Is there, something you would- “

” Where are your eyes? “ She finally spoke, her voice was soft, and calm. He flinched. Not again.

” ..uh.. p..pardon? “

“ Your eyes. You do not seem to have them. “ It’s something she never knew, due to the skin acting as a blindfold most of the time. How interesting, this was.

He- really didn’t wanna get back on this again, but- he assumes he has to. Deep breath.

“ ..Well, you see, I— t-this is a past scar, it’s nothing, b-but… most of the townsfolk didn’t exactly appreciate that I was around. They saw me as a freak of nature, and… i-it isn’t like I could tell them they’re wrong. So, a- a group cornered me as I was just trying to find solitude, and.. they, uh.. “ The paining quiet, the uncomfortable stare of the Lady, having to recall this moment all over again— he just did his best to keep calm, despite the stuttering. Why was he acting like this, he’s an adult, suck it up.

“ ..They— did their damage. They got what.. what they wanted for the most part, heh-… “ He laughed it off. Like his normally would have, but it wasn’t helping. It didn’t help any of the times he’s tried it so far. The Lady still, stared. She was waiting. He wanted to just cut it short and give her the package. But… he kept going, he didn’t really know why. “ S-Sure, they most likely wanted me dead a-at best, but hey! At least.. they were satisfied, eheheh.. “

The Lady nodded. He’s kind of surprised she listened to all of that. He had the feeling she would have cut him off right then and there, but-

“ Did it hurt? “ She… unsettlingly asked. Roger was mostly looking at the ground during this, but now he had perked his head up to meet Lady’s eyes.

“ ..did it…hurt? “ He squinted.

“ The attack. Was it painful? “ ..That’s a…strange question to ask. But a question nonetheless.

“ ..Y-Yeah. A lot, actually. It was.. kinda scary, too, I couldn’t see.. everything was dark, it was cold.. raining. Nobody seemed to come to my aid, so I just- had to go off, on my own. I-I kinda thought I was- gonna die. My eyes were bleeding, I felt that if I lost too much, I would’ve…u-uh…mm- “ He shook his head, before continuing. “ T-Though, I- found my way to…somewhere, can’t remember where. And- luckily, there was a gauze. Just had to.. wrap myself up. Was lightheaded after. Cold. A-A little too cold. And alone, kind of when…wh-when I shouldn’t have been. “ He once again, tried to laugh it off a bit. But it progressed.

No.

No.

No no no no no NO. NO. STOP. You- You shouldn’t be having one of these now, not in front of the Lady..! Calm down, calm down, you’re just talking.

The Lady seemed confused. He had been giving out chuckles of discomfort a few times during this, but now? Now it seemed to escalate. To a strangely high degree.

” I-I don’t know where— my Mom- m-my Dad, they- weren’t around, they- I-I lost them, I lost- I-I was lost, so- s-so lost, it- it was cold, I was scared out of my mind that someone w-would’ve found me and tr-tried t— o-or hoped that someone would’ve helped, b-but funnily enough; nobody did!! “

He was rambling again, nonono, stop, calm yourself down! You’re being overdramatic, Roger, stop it. “ I-I could’ve…….c…..could’ve…… heh…heheheheh- n-no one was there, no one stopped it, I-I was on my own, b-but that’s what I wanted, right?— W-Well, I mean- sure, but- but not like that, not like that, not like.. someone, a-anyone could’ve done something, s-someone could’ve helped, someone, SOMEONE.. “

This was… spiraling out of control, the Lady finally made note. Roger was backed up against a wall, hand to his hat, putting an immense amount of pressure onto it, still talking to himself. She didn’t know what was going on with him, but it was best to calm the situation down at this point in time.

She gently put her hand on the Janitor’s shoulder. He jolted, eyeing up at the tall, elegant woman. He was a shaky, stammering, panicked mess for a couple of moments there. Another one. Really?

His breathing slowed, his hand slowly lowering from his hat and down to his side. The…The shaking was still prominent, but not as much as before.

This seemed extremely unprofessional. And he felt as it was. But the Lady simply brushed it off, and eyed the little box he was supposed to have given to her sooner. It fell to the ground, as he lost his grip. She reached down, and picked it up, firmly. Once more, eyeing Roger. He immediately diverted his attention, looking to the left.

“ ..I-I’m.. “ He began to speak, eyeing the Lady, still… stuttering. “ ..I’m s- “ He was stopped, the woman putting her hand in front of him. She didn’t need an apology. She simply turned, went into the elevator, and went back up to her quarters.

. . .

He’s so… so… tired.

Mentally, and emotionally. He just- wants to get back to his comfort zone. Where he doesn’t have to be around people other than the kids. Alone. By his own choice.

Passing through the Kitchen, he doesn’t even know what time is it, but he notices Marcus still up. He’s smoking. He’s…not supposed to be. But he still does, and Roger never knew why. The Chef had noticed him from where he stood.

“ -Oh, hey R..uhh… you okay? “ He squinted one eye. “ Did you get the box to- “

” Mhm- yep. “

“ Oh. Uh. Was she mad, or.. “

” Nono, uh… it didn’t seem like it. “ He could’ve only been able to tell if she had spoken, if she had a certain tone to her voice. But she sounded calm and collected. So… hopefully she wasn’t mad afterwards. “ I just.. “ Roger ‘crossed his arms,’ which was just an excuse to not say that he was hugging them instead of having his arms crossed. “ ..I’m just gonna go. I’m tired. You should, uh.. probably go too, Y’know? “

” ..Yeah. Yeah, I probably should. “ Marcus nodded, and put whatever he was doing at the cutting board to a halt. He started to head off, off to his living space. Marcus glanced back at-

Oh. The Janitor was already gone.

Huh.

…

Y’know, he— he kind of got curious. About the box. Whoever sent it to the Lady must’ve been… maybe… important? He doesn’t know. He never gets to see her often.

Eh, whatever. He’ll just get some rest. Marcus kept thinking to himself. As he carefully entered his bedroom, careful as not to disturb his brother.

. . .

The Lady hummed. She held the box firmly in her hands, as she made her way over to the wooden desk-like object, with the broken mirror.

She quietly sighed, before continuing to hum. She quickly inspected herself. She still looked the same. She was still elegant. She was still…

Hm. Eyeing the little box that had been sent to her. It was a cardboard box, with a little dark blue bow on the top. She squinted behind the mask. How…simple of a design. She gingerly removed the blue bow, and put it down on the wooden surface she stood at. She then began to open the box up itself.

She wonders.

Once the box has been properly opened, she sees— a letter? Just- a normal, white letter. She hums, lifting it from out of the box. She removed the seal, carefully, with the best precision she could muster. Inside, was a folded piece of paper, exactly three times, it had been folded.

. . .

Unfolding the paper, she skimmed over the note for a moment, before taking the time to actually read it. Once that was done, she read.

She, ah— read it a couple of times. Because-..

Well..

” … “ She stood in a sort of- shocked silence.

She then muttered.. something.

. . .

She simply put the paper onto the wooden surface, and vanished. Into the shadows.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #little nightmares #little nightmares lady #roger the janitor #Strange Changes

[sweetbitterpdf]

oh! 25 and 99?

( angst/fluff prompt list !!! )

25. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

99. “I fell in love with you, not them.”

... so i think this is the longest prompt fill i’ve ever written? this idea originally came to me in the shower, in the form of one of them being taken in by the other for whatever reason, and that leading to a confession. because i (and a lot of you guys!) are super into the prince AU i have going as of late, here’s a third part to that. i hope u all enjoy ✨✨✨

3.4k words / marriage, crying eliott, nighttime confessions, & kisses at sunrise

---

Lucas is torn out of his slumber by someone shaking him. His eyes blinking open in the darkness, he can make out the silhouette of one of the royal advisors.

“My lord, my lord—” He straightens up, upon seeing Lucas awake. “My deepest apologies for having awoken you.” As Lucas’ eyes adjust, he can see the concern, plain on Léon’s face.  “You have a visitor.” Lucas looks out his window, just to ensure that it really is, in fact, nowhere near sunrise.

 “A visitor…?” Lucas’ eyebrows furrow, perplexed. “Léon, it’s the middle of the night, what is—”

 “It’s Eliott.” Léon clears his throat quickly, straightening his posture. “Ah, his royal highness, rather— he’s downstairs.” Lucas is up and out of bed in a moment. He grabs for his pants, clothing himself quickly. “He appears rather distressed. He asked for you.” Léon speaks as Lucas hurries around his room, as he finishes pulling on his clothing.

“Take me to him.”

---

Lucas thinks of another time, when Eliott was in trouble. He had fallen ill, when they were both very little. He thinks of when Lucas heard the news, and how his brain shut down completely— save for a desperate, thrumming need to get to Eliott, to help him somehow. He thinks of the fact that this feels just like back then— his feet are moving faster than his brain. As Lucas runs down the staircase, he sees his mother and Eliott, in rapid succession. Firstly, he’s relieved that she’s aware of Eliott— secondly, though, he runs at Eliott, pulling him into a hug without a single word.

“Eliott?” He asks, his voice coming out in a pant. He didn’t realize how hard he had run until he comes to a stop. His racing mind matches his racing heart as he holds Eliott, as Eliott holds him. 

“Lucas.” Eliott’s voice is so tired. Lucas hasn’t seen him in months, and he wonders how long whatever’s weighing him down has been doing so. He wants to ease Eliott’s burden, without having to know what it is.

“Are you alright? Are you safe?” Lucas doesn’t know what he’d do if Eliott answers no. He knows where the armoury is— he isn’t the best at wielding a sword, but he would fell a million enemies, if it was for him.

“Yes, Lucas I’m—” With him so close, Lucas can hear the way Eliott’s voice quivers, the way his breathing shakes. “I needed to see you.”

“I’m here,” Lucas says, avoiding the way his cheeks warm by pulling Eliott closer, by combing his fingers gently through his hair, “I’m here.” His mother is talking to one of the hands who accompanied her. He looks over Eliott’s shoulder at her.

“Mother, is it alright if he stays?” He asks, though he’s sure that he’s far too old for such a thing. He may only be a prince, but he’s seventeen, he’s an adult. 

But, “Of course, sweetheart.” She says, nonetheless. “I’ll send a messenger to your parents, letting them know that you’re safe,” His mother turns, facing Eliott. “And I’ll get everything together to accommodate an extra person, for the next couple days.” Lucas softens, thankful. “Eliott— both of you, get some rest, please.”

“We will. Goodnight.” Lucas’ mother walks off, satisfied. He then turns to Eliott, curled in on himself, his eyelids heavy. “Come on.” Just as they start up the steps, Lucas pauses. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course I am. But what are you doing here? In the middle of the night, no less?” 

Eliott thinks, for a long time. Lucas has never seen him spend so much time weighing his words.

“I’ll tell you, I want to tell you everything, but can we just—” He puffs out a breath. “Can we rest, for now?”

“Of course.” They ascend the stairs as the servants extinguish the lanterns, the darkness climbing up behind them.

---

When Lucas opens his eyes, it’s still dark, and he is alone in bed. He thinks that Eliott’s arrival may have just been a dream, before he turns and sees him sitting on the window sill. He’s looking out over the land, one leg hugged to his chest, the other hanging off the ledge, his toes brushing the floor as he swings his leg back and forth gently. The moonlight sets his jawline aglow. It makes him look so ethereally beautiful that Lucas’ breath leaves him, that all he can do is stare. Lucas averts his eyes on instinct, when Eliott looks at him— but when Eliott’s gaze stays, he can’t help but look back.

“I was getting married.” Eliott says, looking back out the window.

“What?” Lucas asks, his voice heavy and raspy with sleep. Surely he didn’t hear Eliott correctly, surely—

“That’s why I’m here.” Eliott says, his voice steady enough to scare Lucas, just a little. “I was getting married, and I left my wife-to-be at the altar.” Eliott looks out the window, then down in his lap.

“You— Eliott, you what?” That spurs Lucas out of bed. He wants to get close, but he’s hesitant, during a moment like this. “What the hell were you thinking?! Leaving a crown-princess? At the altar?! That’s—” Treason, he nearly says, though he’s not sure about the nuances of such a matter. Leaving anyone at the altar, though, crown-princess or not… it’s not good.

Eliott’s lips press together to form a tight line, “It’s… a long story.” 

And so, Lucas pushes away the fatigue pulling at his his eyelids, ignores the way sleep still makes his limbs drag, and sits across from Eliott on the windowsill.

“I’ll listen, for as long as it takes.” He says, and counts the way Eliott’s features seem to soften, almost imperceptibly so, as a little victory.

“I didn’t tell you this then, but it started on my nineteenth birthday. After all the festivities had ended, and I was back with my family, they sat me down, and my mother said that it was about time I got married.” Lucas can tell that looking back on this isn’t easy for Eliott, and he’s not sure which he wants more— to know, or to comfort. Because he’s not sure he can do both, right now. “They had gotten married when they were both seventeen, she had said that they had wanted me to get married then, but they allowed me a few years of lee-way. But she basically said, ‘we’ve found a princess, not too far off from here,’ and they had arranged a marriage for me.” Lucas is shocked. He’s shocked less so at the notion of Eliott being part of an arranged marriage— it happens to princes all the time, especially those in line for the crown— he’s shocked that he didn’t know about this, about any of it. “And I didn’t want to, right from the beginning. But I went with it, because I felt like I had to, for the good of my parents,” When Lucas looks up at Eliott, Eliott is looking beyond him, looking through him. “for the good of the kingdom… And it worked. For a while.” Lucas wants to get closer, to take Eliott’s hands in his, to kiss them softly, to pull him in, hold him close again and never let go. “We met a few times, she was smart, witty… This girl, I really started to feel like it could work, like we could fall in love, live happily ever after, you know?” Lucas nods, thinking of someone as smart as Eliott, someone as witty and light and enamouring as he is. 

He can’t.

“—But then things started to go all circular, repetitive. It was the same stuff: the same problems, over and over.” Eliott pauses, and Lucas— unsure of whether or not he’s waiting for a response, breathes out a quiet ah. “She could never lose an argument. And the arguments grew more and more frequent. Especially over the wedding.” Which I didn’t even want to have in the first place is left implied. With every step of the story, every brushstroke of the bigger picture, Lucas only grows more horrified for him. “It became more and more apparent to me that I didn’t want to marry her. I couldn’t.” The way Eliott shakes his head, the way his voice has gone soft again, weak— it sounds as if he’s about to cry. “I couldn’t deal with that for the rest of my life. But it was too late. The wedding was scheduled, it was only a few weeks away, and I felt more trapped than ever. Everything was set in place, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing anyone.” Lucas can picture it now, in terrifying clarity— Eliott, stood at the altar, overwhelmed, trapped. Lucas sees himself there, too— with all of the knowledge of the situation that he now has, with all of the hurt that Eliott feels. Trapped, in a completely different way. 

“—And so I let it happen. Right up until the procession.” “I was stood there, waiting for her. And then I saw her. She was beautiful in her dress.” Eliott smiles, then. There’s something in it— affection, fondness, but not love. “But it was then, that I realized. Leaving would be letting everyone else down, but staying would be letting myself down. And so I ran. I ran as far as I could bear, and then I hid, for a while.” When they were little, Lucas would hear stories of Eliott hiding himself away. It was years before he was shown Eliott’s hiding place, his safe haven. But from that day on, when they hid they did so together. 

“—I came back to my parents, I told them that I couldn’t marry her, that I wouldn’t. I demanded to set out the circumstances of my eventual marriage myself. Told them I wanted to marry someone that I choose, and that I wouldn’t take no for an answer. They ultimately accepted— though not without demanding that I pen a lengthy apology to the girl I almost married.” Lucas can tell that Eliott’s story is effectively over, by the way his shoulders relax, by the way he looks over to Lucas at long last. “But it’s worth it. After nearly a year, I feel free again.” They’re quiet for quite some time after that.

“Eliott,” Lucas is speechless, sick. On instinct, he wants to apologize. I’m sorry, he wants to say, I’m so sorry you had to go through this, I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything— “Why did you go through all of that by yourself?” Lucas leans forward, taking one of Eliott’s hands in his. “I could’ve… Been there, for you. Why?”

“Because it wasn’t your battle to fight, Lucas.” Eliott’s voice bites, but only in the manner of a wounded animal, scared to reveal its wound. He’s calm again, just as quickly as he lashed out “Because I didn’t want to burden you.” He squeezes Lucas’ hand gently, drawing circles in Lucas’ hand with his thumb.

“Everything is harder on your own.” He stands up, offering a hand to Eliott. When he takes it, he leads him back to the bed. “A healer told me that, once.” Lucas sits down, and Eliott beside him. Silence creeps out between them for a beat. “Eliott, do you remember, when we were younger, and you said that you knew I’d always be by your side?” Lucas watches as his gaze drifts off elsewhere, assumedly remembering their early days together— and Lucas lets himself remember, too— I’ll never not want you by my side, and do you trust me, and nothing is more important to me than you. In times of trouble, Lucas remembers Eliott’s words from all those years ago— he just hopes that they’re helpful for Eliott, too. 

“Yes.” When Eliott says it, it’s only a breath, barely there. Lucas could very well have missed it, had he not been paying attention.

But with Eliott, he’s always paying attention. 

“I want to, I will, but you have to let me.” When their eyes meet, Eliott’s are so big, so blue. “I want to be there for you, always, through everything.” Eliott stares him down silently, to the point where Lucas wavers under his gaze, just a bit. His eyes are wide, his expression unreadable. Before he can ask what’s happening, Eliott’s looking down at his lap, and then back up a moment later.

With tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Eliott,” Lucas is on him in the blink of an eye, pulling him into his chest, “Oh, Eliott.” He can feel Eliott’s shaking breaths, they make his body tremble. In, out; in, out.

And then, all at one, Eliott lets go.

He cries, and he cries. He lets the emotion flow out of him, lets the past year leave him at long last. It’s a floodgate, the way the tears flow— he lets one go and a million more come, unstoppable until there’s nothing left, until he’s weeping softly into Lucas’ shoulder, now soaked. Lucas says nothing, as he holds him. He doesn’t silence, he doesn’t judge— all he does is hold him close and keep him there, for as long as it takes. The night takes his sense of time away— it may have been minutes, it may have been hours— but Eliott’s breathing eventually evens out. Lucas still holds him, though. He keeps him close, until Eliott pulls away himself. When he does, though, their hands are still loosely linked.

“Lucas, I want to tell you something.”

“Of course.” Lucas says, without thinking.

“No, Lucas.” Eliott breathes out a sigh, and Lucas is concerned, at his reluctance. “This something… it’s not like the other somethings.” If Eliott’s just told him all this… Lucas is suddenly unsure that he wants to know what else Eliott has kept from him. “This isn’t just anything— but I need you to promise me, first.”

But it’s Eliott.

And so—

“Anything.”

“I don’t want you to promise, if it’s not something you can keep. If I tell you this, and you don’t feel the same,” Feel the same? Lucas wonders, with a steadily intensifying sickness, in the pit of his stomach. “Because your companionship means more to me than anything that this may change.” He thinks of all of the Lucases and Eliotts that may exist elsewhere, in this world and others. He thinks of all of the things that could be happening to them, the different things that every Eliott, existent in this moment, means.

Lucas is quiet for a long time, then “Yes.” 

“Yes?” Eliott asks, and Lucas nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“I didn’t love her, because I couldn’t.” Lucas only grows more confused. Eliott using cryptic words is nothing new, and Lucas is just as mystified as ever.

“You couldn’t?”

“No,” Eliott shakes his head, and Lucas follows the motion. “Because I was in love with someone else.”

“Oh.” When Lucas laughs, it’s more of a breath than anything else— a quick scoffing sound, there one moment and gone the next. “I can understand why that would create a problem.” All of a sudden, Lucas finds himself looking at the ceiling, at the floor— anywhere but over at Eliott. 

But then.

Then—

“You.” Eliott’s voice is calm, soft— but it cuts through the quiet night air. In a breath, the sickness in the pit of Lucas’ stomach is spreading up, sending a tingling throughout his entire torso, because— 

“... Me?” Lucas asks, dumbfounded, awestruck. When he finally risks a glance up at Eliott, he finds that Eliott’s gaze is steady on him, steadier than it’s been all night.

“I fell in love with you, not her.” Eliott drags his fingers back and forth across the palm of Lucas’ hand. “I realized it recently, but it happened long ago— I’m not even sure how young we were.” He can only look back up at Eliott when his gaze falls back to his lap again. When Lucas looks at him, though, there’s the smallest of smiles on his face. “But when I realized, it was like a light coming on, like a homecoming.” The way they’re stealing glances is a game of cat and mouse, but this time, Eliott has him trapped— he looks away, briefly, but he can’t for long. He opens his mouth to speak, more than once, but the words won’t come— “Lucas, please say something.”

They won’t come because—

“Eliott, I—” Because it’s been years. It’s been years of Lucas going hot under Eliott’s gaze, to the point where he’s adapted to it, developed an immunity. “I don’t—” Because he dreamed about this moment, then shoved it deep enough within him that he stopped dreaming about it. “This is like a dream—” But still, impossibly, it returns.

“A good dream, or a bad one?” Eliott asks, looking up at him from behind his eyelashes, his face turned downward. Lucas feels himself on a precipice— one that even the thought of approaching terrified him, for so long. But now— now— he lets himself stand on the edge of it, over the great unknown. 

As he kisses Eliott, he lets himself fall. He kisses Eliott for every iteration of himself— past, present, future. And Eliott kisses him back, again and again and again. Part of Lucas is waiting to wake up— but with the emotion flowing out of him, all at once— he knows this is real. Even his best dreams weren’t nearly as good as this.

“I was eleven.” Lucas breathes, once they finally part. He doesn’t know when his hands rose to Eliott’s shoulders but he keeps them there, to keep him close. Eliott’s smile in back in full force— for the first time all night, Eliott looks like Eliott again. His eyes are still closed and he looks a bit dazed, as if he’s coming back to himself, and Lucas can’t resist kissing him again. “When I fell in love with you, I was eleven.” He thinks back to then, when everything felt strange and new— especially the warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Eliott, newly tall, suddenly so much more than he was— taller, older, more settled into himself than Lucas could ever be. “When you had grown tall, for the very first time, that’s when I knew.” Now, though, everything is stripped. They’re not two princes, two people at the cusp of their adult lives, so much responsibility, so much to keep up with— they’re just two boys kissing, and kissing, and kissing. “I love you— I have loved you, since then.” Eliott’s eyes are so big, and he is so beautiful, and Lucas can’t resist kissing him. “Ardently.” He says against Eliott’s cheek, “devotedly,” into his jaw.

“For six years.” From Eliott’s tone, he thinks he’s saying it more to himself than anything else, taking it in.

“For six years.” Lucas confirms. Eliott pulls him back in, sliding his arms around Lucas’ waist and pulling him into his lap, just a bit.

“Why would you wait so long?” Lucas can feel Eliott’s lips move as he whispers the question against his skin, his hands roaming all over Lucas’ back. Eliott pulls back, but he leaves their foreheads pressed gently together.

“Because you’re worth it.” He doesn’t even have to think about answering— he lets his heart take over, lets it lay him bare. “Because I knew that, if this was meant to be, then it would be.” He runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Eliott’s neck. “If the world brought me you as a friend, then I would content myself. No matter how desperately I wanted more.” And wanted more he did. No matter how much time he spent denying it, how vehemently he tried— it’s only ever been Eliott, for him. “Because you’re a gift, no matter how I have you.” Lucas chuckles as Eliott hides his face in the crook of his neck. His face is so warm as it rests there, he wouldn’t complain if they stayed like that forever. 

“What if I told you that you can have me in any way,” Eliott says, his breath tickling Lucas’ neck in a way that makes his breath hitch, “every way, that you desire?”

Lucas looks out the window, seeing the beginnings of sunrise, and thinks of all the possibilities, of all the Lucases and Eliotts, all the universes in which they’re together like this. 

“Then I would fancy myself the luckiest man in the world,” Lucas says as he pulls Eliott down, their laughter quiet as they kiss again (and again, and again).

#skam #skam france #elu #lucas x eliott #elu fic #mywriting; #asks; #amis anonymes; #fun statistics facts #'lucas' appears in this work 89 times #and 'eliott' appears 102 times #their names; collectively; make up about 1/17th of this fic; if my math is correct #do with that what u will

[viostormcaller]

You Never Know If You Don’t Try

(This was supposed to be my Valentine’s Day fic, but that very night my computer gave up on me. So, even though it’s the first of March, I’m posting it now. No warnings this time :D Enjoy!)

It was yet another Valentine's day at the SepticEgo's residence. Chase and Henrik, in an attempt to brighten the mood for both of them (because both of them had each gone through divorce, meaning Valentine's Day could be a bit painful), decided to decorate the house in festive hearts and red streamers, and they had all made plans to go out later that night to a restaurant. Chase had made heart-shaped cookies that were set out on the dinner table for anyone to just take and eat throughout the day, mostly as an excuse to get everyone out of their rooms and spend time with each other as a family (and, you wouldn't know it, but the clumsy, former internet star is actually a really good cook, one of his many perks learned from being a father).

Jackieboy Man could hear Henrik and Chase talking out front, about their ex-wives and their kids. He didn't feel like leaving his room, but eavesdropping on their conversation was a good distraction, at least. He blew his green hair out of his eyes as he lay on his bed, tossing a small, red and blue ball up towards the ceiling, catching it, and tossing it again.

In the past, he would have openly celebrated Valentine's Day. It's a day to celebrate love, whether it be between couples or between family. Normally, he would celebrate with Chase, Henrik, and Marvin, but this year was different.

Now, Jackie's never paid much interest in girls, not even during high school. He wasn't focused back then on relationships, so he never gave his preferences much thought. But this year, he has a crush, and he doesn't know what to do about it. And the bigger problem is, his crush was on Marvin.

Now, the SepticEgos aren't actually related, but Marvin has said multiple times to Jackie that he was the closest thing he'll ever have to a brother. At first, Jackie really appreciated hearing that from him. And he still does, but he's come to realize that he wants something more than that. He loves him more than a brother, or a friend. He wants to be called his. His only wish is to be in a relationship with the magician occupying the room down the hall.

At this point he stopped tossing the ball and sat on the edge of his bed, sighing as he put his head in his hands. His chest felt heavy, his heart hurt. He bit his lip, willing himself not to cry over this. But it was frustrating, wanting something he wouldn't ever have. At least, that's what his mind was telling him, anyway.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Jackieboy responded. The door opened to reveal Henrik in the doorway, smiling brightly. The hero was glad he was happy, at least.

"Don't you want to come out and be vith us?" The doctor asked curiously. It was a bit unlike him to be so closed off on Valentine's Day, but he understood that, after multiple mental health scares and recent events, this year would be a bit different emotionally for the egos. Nonetheless, it was a holiday, and Henrik wanted to make sure that all the egos had a nice time today. Or, at least make their days a bit brighter and less depressing.

"O-Oh, uh...yeah. Just...give me a minute. I'll be out soon." Jackie waved a hand dismissively, hoping that reply would be enough to satisfy Schneeplestein. He just needed to collect himself before engaging in any social interaction. But, the doctor, naturally concerned, entered the room, closing the door behind him, and sat next to Jackie on the bed.

"Is somezhing wrong?" Henrik asked. He was a bit worried, and hoped that what was troubling the superhero wasn't anything too serious. He was willing to help nonetheless, no matter what the issue was. If it was serious, Valentine’s Day could easily wait.

"Well," Jackie began. "Usually, on Valentine's Day, I focus on love between family. I never gave relationships much thought. But this year...I actually have a crush on someone..."

"Oh, I see! Is zhat a bad zhing?" The doctor asked.

"Well...yes and no. I mean, I guess it's good that I have feelings for someone, but...I doubt they like me back. Not in that way." Jackieboy Man explained.

"Ah, I understand." Schneep nodded. "Vell, who is this lucky fellow? Perhaps we can vork somezhing out?"

"U-Uh..." Jackieboy rubbed a hand behind his head nervously, not sure what to say. He didn't exactly want to admit that it was Marvin. He didn't want to stir up trouble and possibly ruin his chances and his current relationship with him in one fell swoop.

"I'd, uh...rather not say. I don't wanna start drama or anything, or ruin our friendship." The hero sighed. "I just...I dunno. It just kinda hurts."

"I understand." The doctor nodded. "Vell, why don't you tell zhem how you feel? Who knows? Maybe zhey feel zhe same vay?"

"I...I can't do that. For reasons I can't explain, it's a lot more complicated than that..."

Henrik nodded again. He had a feeling that he knew who it was, but he didn't want to guess, in respect of Jackie's wishes to keep it secret.

"Vell...remember, you never know if you don't try." He smiled. "Now come on, you won't get anyvhere just sulking in your room all day." And with that, he grabbed Jackieboy's arm and led him out to the living room.

                                                      **********

Marvin was busy reading a magazine in his room when he heard a knock on his door.

"Yeah, what’s up?" He he asked at the knocker. The door opened to reveal a grinning Chase peeking behind it.

"Hey dude, can I come in?" Chase asked. Marvin nodded, sitting up and scootching over to make space for Chase to sit down on his bed. Chase entered the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him, and seated himself next to the magician.

"So," Chase began. "You gonna ask him out yet or what?"

"H-Huh?" Marvin asked, flustered. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn red. "W-Who are you-"

"Come on, don't play dumb! You know who I'm talking about." Chase interrupted. Marvin tilted his head like a confused puppy, and Chase rolled his eyes and sighed, still grinning.

"I'm talking about Jackie! Dude, you make it so obvious you like him." Upon hearing this, Marvin hid his face in his magazine, which had turned redder than a tomato. Chase chuckled when he saw Marvin's reaction.

"Dude, it's completely okay, no need to be embarrassed. But seriously, you need to ask him out. Come on, man, it's Valentine's Day! And besides, you two would be cute together!"

"I...I doubt he likes me like that. Besides...I probably already ruined my chances, since I often tell him he's like a brother to me.” he shrugged. “I only say that because I'm afraid of his reaction if I tell him the truth..." Marvin responded dejectedly.

"Hmm, I dunnooo," Chase singsonged. "Something tells me the feeling is mutual. I mean, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you're not comfortable with, because that would be an asshole move on my part. But seriously, you never know if you don't try, my dude. Just think about it, alright?" Marvin nodded, taking in Chase's words.

"Welp, I'll leave you to it. But don't stay cooped up in here all day, alright?" Chase said, getting up and turning towards the door.

"Heh, I won't. Thanks, Chase." Marvin chuckled. Chase turned back to Marvin and pointed finger-guns at him, then left the room, shutting the door behind him. Marvin sighed and flopped back on his bed, pondering what he should do. He mulled on his thoughts for a bit, before deciding he was getting nowhere. With yet another sigh, he got up, and left his room to go sit in the living room with the rest of the family.

                                                   **********

Once everyone was in the living room, Chase took the plate of cookies that he made, and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch. Henrik took the remote and turned on the TV, switching the channels until they found something they all agreed on. But, no matter how hard he tried, Jackie couldn't concentrate on the show. Not with Marvin sitting next to him. His heart near stopped every time the magician would reach over him to get a cookie from the table. He would get nervous when Marvin’s shoulder brushed against his, when he leaned forward to reply something Chase or Henrik had said. It truly seemed as if the cat-masked magician has got his tongue, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't utter a single word. And, of course, the other egos picked up on his unusual silence.

"Dude," Chase started, leaning forward so he could see Jackieboy better. "You're really quiet. You okay?"

The poor hero's words were caught in his throat. He swallowed, hoping that would help, and opened his mouth to speak.

"U-Uh...yeah, I'm...I'm fine. I'm alright." He managed to get out. Chase, however, was a bit suspicious of Jackie's answer, more out of concern than anything.

"You sure?" He asked. Jackie nodded in response, and leaned back against the couch. From the corner of his eye, he could see Marvin looking worriedly at him, and immediately felt his cheeks go red.

"Uh...excuse me. I'll be right back." Jackieboy Man said quickly, getting up and rushing to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He turned to the mirror and gazed at his face. His cheeks, usually a pale white, were now a deep red. He leaned his elbows against the sink and rubbed his hands against his face, sighing. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up, but he knew he had to try. He splashed water on his face, and took a few deep breaths to collect himself. When he felt he was calm enough, he left the bathroom and rejoined Chase, Henrik, and Marvin on the couch.

The rest of the afternoon went without a hitch. For a while, everything seemed normal. They all talked and laughed like they normally do, eating the cookies until they were gone. Before long, it was 6 o' clock, and the egos had to get ready to leave to go out for dinner. Henrik had made reservations at a fancy restaurant. Doing something like this together is a very rare and special occasion, so naturally everyone was excited. They all got dressed up in fancy attire, and piled into Henrik's car. Jackie sat next to Marvin in the back, since Chase called shotgun before they got in. He felt flustered, nearly melting at the way Marvin was dressed. While Jackie just wore a traditional suit and tie, Marvin wore a black vest on top of a white shirt with black slacks, and right underneath his chin, on his collar, was a red bow tie. Adorable, he thought to himself. So badly he wanted to say something to him, but Jackie just didn't have the courage. And so, he just gazed out the window as Henrik drove, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind.

                                                     **********

Dinner went smoother than Marvin had anticipated. Sitting next to Jackie at dinner made him a bit anxious, however, but he tried his best to keep his cool. They all had a generally good time, but something felt a bit...off. Something was wrong with Jackieboy Man, he could very much tell. His smile wasn't as bright as it usually was, his eyes didn't light up like they usually do. Seeing this made Marvin long to help him. More than anything, he wanted to make him happy. He couldn't help but worry about whether the hero was depressed or not, if something serious was troubling him and he needed help or support. So, he decided that, when they got home, he would push his anxiety aside, and check up on Jackie to make sure he was really okay. With that plan in mind, he focused himself back on the present, and tried his best to enjoy the rest of his dinner.

                                                     **********

Jackie observed how content everyone seemed on the drive home. Naturally, they would be. The food was excellent, they all laughed and talked and joked. Generally, it was a really good time.

If only he wasn't faking it.

Jackie's heart ached more than ever. The night was almost over, and he was still in the same position he was when the day started. He knew nothing would ever change between him and Marvin, and he just had to accept that. Throughout the whole way home, he bit back tears, trying hard to swallow the lump forming in his throat. As soon as they got home, Jackie bolted for his room, quickly shutting the door behind him. He slumped up against it and began to sob, covering his face with his hands.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and the hero flinched.

"W-Who is it...?" He asked weakly, sniffling. At this point, he didn't bother trying to hide his sadness. He’d been holding it back all day. He knew he had to let it out at some point.

"It's Marvin. Can I come in?" Marvin asked from the other side of the door.

"Yeah...sure." Jackie replied, and got up, stepping back so that there was room for the door to open.

Marvin walked through the door, shutting it behind him. Upon entering, Marvin saw Jackieboy's tear-soaked face and saddened expression, and became concerned.

"Jackie...I know you haven't been okay today. If something's wrong...please tell me. I want to be able to help you. It hurts me so much to see you so upset, and I'd hate for you to suffer in silence. Please...tell me what's bothering you." Marvin pleaded. Jackie looked down at his feet, not knowing what to say. Finally, he took a deep breath. It was now or never, and he probably won't get another chance. If their friendship was going to be ruined, it's best to do it now, he figured.

"Marvin..." he began. "You're gonna hate me for this."

"What are yo-" Suddenly, Marvin was cut off as he was pushed against the door. Jackie pressed his lips against Marvin's, tears streaming down his face. His heart was in his throat, he knew this was going to ruin everything, but he didn't care. At least now, Marvin knew how he how he really felt, his true emotions, and he doesn't have to keep it secret, even if it's one-sided love. Jackie pulled away a bit from Marvin to catch his breath, which had quickened due to his rapidly pounding heart. His nerves were getting the best of him, he knew. He couldn't help it, but as terrified as he was, he was ready for Marvin's response, whatever it may be. And then, in that moment, Marvin spoke.

"I love you so much, Jackie." The magician said with a small smile. Slowly, Jackieboy Man pulled away to look Marvin in the eyes.

"Y-You...you do?" He asked, confused. He certainly hadn't expected this response. But Marvin nodded, the smile on his face gradually growing bigger. He leaned in, and kissed Jackie back, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hero's hair. Jackie kissed back passionately, pulling Marvin closer. He'd never felt so relieved. This Valentine's Day wasn't a waste after all.

But, what the two weren't aware of is that an eavesdropping Henrik and Chase were standing behind the door. They both silently cheered, and high-fived. While it didn't go exactly to plan, the both of them talked while decorating that morning, and had plotted somehow finally getting the two together. They grinned at each other for a moment, proud their efforts had paid off. They could hear one last bit of their conversation before they retreated to their own rooms:

"I love you so much, Marvin."

"I love you too, Jackie. Thank you for being honest with me."

"You're welcome. I'm glad this worked out."

"Heh, me too."

At the end of the night, everyone went to bed happy. Though emotions ran high that day, at the end of it all, it was worth it. It just goes to show the both of them: they truly never would have known, unless they tried.

#jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #dr. schneeplestein #chase brody

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him... What would he do?

Notes from Mod Bonnie 

Trying something a bit new as a palate-cleanser, lads and lasses! 

Please do note that I am blissfully, unapologetically putting next-to-no effort into making this historically accurate. Soooo, if you’re in a military history/fact-checking/date-referencing mood… best take those efforts elsewhere ;D 

Hope you enjoy! 

The Last All-Clear 

September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail 

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

17 September

Daytime rotation today.

No new battle casualties & all quiet in the distance, thank God. 

Did tend M. Danton (scored on the arm w/ rusted nail; antibiotics & sterile bandage to finish; strict instructions to report in 3 days for follow-up). 

A strange sort, and no two ways about it. 

“Claire—darling—dearest—You know how much I ADORE you, don’t you?”

I was already smirking—fondly, but smirking nonetheless—by the time I turned from restocking the supply cabinets for tomorrow. “How much do you adore me, Nance?”

“So much that I’ll do absolutely any of your chores—ALL your chores!!—for a week if you’ll go tend Danton??”

“Danton? The frenchman?” A glance revealed a familiar set of hunched shoulders (spilled over with filthy black hair) just visible through the cracked partition of the infirmary tent. “What’s happened to him?”

“Nothing serious. Says he got scraped by a nail or screw or something this morning and needs to be cleaned up a bit, but oh, please, Claire??” Nancy whined, grabbing both my hands in hers. “I know you were supposed to go off-duty at eight and it’s nine-thirty already but puh-LEASE will you take ten minutes before you go and be the one to tend him?? Please-please-pl—” 

“Good Lord, no need to go into a tizzy about it,” I laughed, a bit taken aback by how truly distraught she seemed. “Surely the man doesn’t bite!” Though in truth, I didn’t know that for certain.

I’d never spoken to him, nor even so much as looked him in the eye, but Danton—was his first name even known?— was a legend in camp. He’d joined the company a month or two ago, they said, one of the men-of-all-work that alternately served as laborer, orderly, handyman, gravedigger, or any other role requiring a strong back. Though I’d always gotten the sense he was past his prime, from the state of his clothing and posture and hygiene, a strong back Danton did have, and whatever his age might be, he was indispensable.  The camp always had to be ready to go into action, or even pick up and move entirely at a moment’s notice. In this chaotic wartime reality, with life and death so often on the line, a spare set of hands was always needful. 

There were a dozen such men in camp, all of them civilian frenchmen, but Danton was the only one people seemed to talk about; which was quite the irony, given that he was a man of notoriously few words. He kept always to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, gruffly and shortly when he was, crossing the verge of sheer bad-temperedness more often than not. Rooms tended to shift to low whispers when Danton entered, if not empty entirely.

It didn’t seem to bother him. The entirety of my experience with the man consisted of glimpses from across the camp or mess-hall. Yet, even that barest of acquaintance was enough to have convinced me that the unsmiling, grubby Danton—with his hunched shoulders, with that profoundly-unkempt black hair and drooping cap that together hid his eyes—wished to be left alone. 

My skin had prickled, though, whenever I had studied him, crawling with something I couldn’t quite put into words or even—

“He gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies!!” Nancy summarized neatly in a whisper. “I can’t do it, I just can’t! Anything you ask, Claire, and it’s done, but PLEASE be a brick and get me out of this??”

I would have agreed in any case—if for nothing more than to satisfy my own slightly-morbid curiosity— but I had absolutely no qualms over letting Nancy take my bedpan duties for a week out of the bargain.

….and surely the man DIDN’T bite?

“Monsieur Danton?”

He JUMPED as though shot, and I startled so violently (absurdly searching for elongated canines in the momentary panic) that I swore and dropped my tray, the bowl, cloth, and other impedimenta clattering and scattering all over the floor with great metallic crashes.

I was utterly mortified, positively dove to my hands and knees to gather the scattered supplies and hide my face, and then the sensation doubled to realize that the frenchman was on the ground beside me. I had only enough time to notice the juxtaposition of the fine leather glove on his left hand with the wretched filth of his clothing before he was placing the last item on the tray. “Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to smile in thanks, and caught a momentary glimpse of vivid blue eyes before he recoiled, leaping to his feet and busying himself with getting the tray on the table. 

Shy, whatever else he might be. 

“Well, we’re off to a bumpy start, sol—Sir,” I managed with a weak laugh as I got to my feet, throwing myself fully into that ‘jovial commanding-officer’ character that had weathered many an awkward encounter in my career to-date. My usual script felt a little bereft without the useful address of ’soldier.’ “I’m Nurse Randall,” I said more briskly, clearing my throat with a smile.  “I’m told you need medical attention for your arm?”

He rolled up his sleeve without so much as a word. Very well, down to busin—

“Good LORD!” I gasped, stepping forward and reaching for the arm, then pushing him down into the chair. Not merely a scrape: it was a slash, a wicked, deep one, about two inches long, just below the right elbow. “This needs stitches! What the bloody hell happened?” 

No answer. 

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I said more kindly in French, “Monsieur, will you tell me what happened to your arm?”

No nod. No grunt. The brute didn’t bother even to raise his chin from his chest. 

No language barrier, then: just an arse.  

I reached for the antiseptic, my nostrils flaring. “Will you look at the state of this?” The blood had long since clotted, but the wound clearly hadn’t been washed, let alone sterilized. “Why in God’s name didn’t you come and get help for it right away?”

Silence.

“Excuse me, I am TALKING to you,” I snapped, choosing to stick with French for castigation as I prepared the suturing supplies. “Why didn’t you bother coming for help unt—?”

“Do what’s-must to prevent the festering and I’ll be going, yes?” he snapped back with such venom that I would have gasped if I weren’t so grounded in pique. 

So: he was both capable of speech and every bit as ill-tempered for it.  Lord, give me the strength not to SLAP this man. I bit my tongue and cleansed the wound in icy silence.

“Far from home?” I blurted testily, when the tension became too insufferable even for me. 

His head snapped up.

“Your accent,” I clarified as I reached for a clean cloth, genuinely curious despite my ire, “—your syntax. It’s not a standard dialect…nor like the other frenchmen in camp, I think?” 

“No.”

I had about an ounce of pleasantness left in me and I scraped it up to force a smile. “Grow up in the country, eh?”

“Yes.”

“…Care to share where?” 

“No.”

“Well, you’re just a blooming basket of violet-scented rainbows, aren’t you?” I snapped in English. “Hold bloody still, this will hurt and you’ll deserve every blasted bit of it.” I gritted my teeth and swore under my breath as I began stitching, in absolutely no mood for grumpy man-children. “Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST.”

By complete chance, standing bent over his arm as I began to stitch, I happened to be looking down at his mouth as I said it. To my absolute gobsmacked surprise, I saw a smile twitching at the corners, small and restrained, as though he were trying very much not to show it, but clear as day: a tiny smile verging on a grin. 

Well…! Not a *complete* automaton, then. 

I was taken still further aback when the mouth opened and said quietly in French without looking up, “Forgive me, please, Madame. I do not mean you ill.” The tone told me he was being genuine.  “It is only that I do not very much like—speaking.”

“It’s good to work at things you don’t like doing,” I said, fixing what I could see of his face with a sardonic glare between stitches, but trying not to smile. “Builds character.”  

Another infinitesimal twitch of the lips before he dropped his head, strings of wavy black hair hiding his features entirely. “It is—a small bit more easy to manage, in French.”  

“We’ll stick with the Français then,” I said, letting a smile show in my voice.

I finished the stitching and sterilization in a more comfortable silence. He took the hypodermic needle without so much as a wince, though I could see him watching it intently, sternly almost, as though not entirely sure what to make of it. From the country, indeed. 

“You’re so much younger than I would have supposed.” 

“…I beg your pardon, Madame?” 

I could hardly fault him for being taken aback, as I had blurted it with absolutely no thought for context, let alone grace. I recovered as best I could, all things considered, focusing over-intently on wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “From a distance, I had assumed you to be far older.”

Honestly, for a man with such a beard and posture, that default manner that could charitably be described as cantankerous, it was alarming to find that not only was he not middle-aged, but he couldn’t possibly be older than— 

“Thirty? At most?”

“Thereabouts.” After a pause, he added with a shrug. “I am far older in spirit, Madame.”  

I made him promise to come see me in a few days so I could see how the healing was progressing and give him more antibiotic if need be. He nodded, then stood and shrugged back into his coat (Lord, was he huge), and was just beginning to move toward the doorway, when—

“Are you well-treated here, M. Danton?”  Why could I not keep my bloody mouth shut tonight??

“Why is it that you ask such a question of me, Madame?” Though I still could barely see his face through the hair, I could hear the wariness in his voice. 

“You just seem…” I struggled to find the word in French, to express my concern without giving offense. “…..hunted.” 

Yes, a beast at bay. That’s what I had discerned and yet been unable to name in those vague, distant glances across camp: the utter wrongness in the sight of a man so tall and strong keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact, as though cowering before an invisible blow. Then there was this slash to the arm…

He caught me looking at the bandage, so I summoned my courage enough to ask directly, “Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?” 

“No.” He relaxed, and I saw his throat muscles working.  “No, it truly was a rusted nail; an accident, entirely my own.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the first statement. “And my manners and ways are mine as well, Madame. Of my own choosing, I mean to say. Better, it is, that I keep to myself.”

There was nothing morose in the way he said it, nothing maudlin or self-pitying.

 ….but it still was so very sad. 

“Nonetheless,” he added quite suddenly, one hand on the tent flap, “I thank you for having asked.” He gave a graceful bow and said in heavily-accented English before vanishing off into the night: “You ‘ave a kind ‘eart, Nurse Randall.”

Strange, yes. But not as bad as all that. 

-CEBR

5 1 9

Ye touched me, today, mo nighean donn. 

Spoke to me. Looked at me. Stopped my beating heart. 

You were supposed to go off-duty at eight. I let that damned wound go untended all the day because I was waiting for when I kent you’d be away and abed. I couldn’t take the chance of it being you. God above knows I meant for us never once to come face-to-face in this camp.

More than a year since I ran up the hill after ye and the world went black; more than a year of trying to find my way in your world; of trying to find you; these last months of staying hidden in plain sight that ye never should see my face…. All undone by a rusted nail and your damned heedless self working at all hours instead of taking to your damned bed. And yet…. ye always did see fit to undermine my plans, my wife. Mo ghraidh. 

….Lord, and you’re so young, Sorcha; so heartbreakingly young, and it makes me want to weep. And yet I weep still more to have witnessed with my own eyes and ears that you’re exactly the same. Even now, at three-and-twenty, you’ve the same fire that I myself have known in you, that same brilliance and compassion and—

Jesus. 

Oh, God, Claire. 

From a distance, keeping to my duties, I have been able to separate myself from it all; keep myself and my thoughts in check by mere will, knowing that it is my place only to watch over you, never in any circumstance to know you or seek you out.  But so close to ye today, mo chridhe, SO CLOSE with you touching me, that deepest part of yourself reaching out to heal and care for me, even in disguise, even though ye dinna yet know me— It took all my strength not to take ye in my arms and crush you to my heart.

I long for you, mo nighean donn. I long for my wife; to hold ye again; to speak all my heart to ye. My truest friend. 

And yet, beyond longing, there is that uttermost of terrors that fills me day and night. 

I wait for this war to end—this war of unspeakable horrors, the like of which I could never have fathomed—and still I dread the sounding of that last all-clear. At least here, now (and for three years more, at the least) I have a place in your world. I can watch over ye, see your face each and every day, if only for a moment from afar, and be able to close my eyes at night only because I ken that you are safe. 

But when the fighting has ceased, when ye leave France, I shall have to bid you yet another farewell….silently, this time, unseen….and hope that in April of 1948—

…Pray with all my soul that you and the bairn make it to April of 1948. 

That you won’t be— That you haven’t already been—? or that you aren’t now—?

Lost among the years. As I have been.  

#;mod bonnie #The Last All-Clear #...so what if I can't name AUs without songs or poems...sue me

[littlespoonevan]

omg i want someone to write isak and even meeting in s1 so badly!!! any chance you would consider it? i know you would do such an amazing job with it!!

anon said: I’m not saying that you should consider writing the fic about Isak going to the Bakka party BUT you should definitely consider writing the fic about Isak going to the Bakka party. Also: I love u ❤

adkjafh so these messages are based off a lil observation i had during my skam rewatch. (original post here) i hope you like it!!!!

*

The first thing Isak notices when he steps throughthe door of the party is that he doesn’t recognise anyone here.

Jonas had been morally against the idea of going toChris and William’s party – he can give whatever excuse he wants; Isak knows hestill wants to punch Chris’ face in every time he sees him – which leads tothem travelling a little further than normal into Bakka territory for somethird year’s party.

If nothing else, the music is good and when he andJonas pick their way through the crowd to reach the kitchen they find a fairlyhealthy selection of drinks at their disposal so Isak can’t feel too botheredabout their current location.

He kind of likes the anonymity of it.

There’s been so much shit happening in his liferecently – he’s been sleeping less and less, his mother is spiralling more andmore, he’s barely heard from his father, he’s mostly over his depressing crushon Jonas but still faced with the horrifying elephant in the room that he’s notquite ready to confront just yet. He just- he needs to switch off for a night.Be someone else. Someone who actually has their life together.

They get their drinks and then settle for propping upthe wall in the living room, observing the makeshift dance floor. Isak watchesJonas scan the room out of the corner of his eye and he knows Jonas is probablylooking at the girls, looking for someone to hook up with. It doesn’t hurtquite as much as it used to; it’s more of a dull ache than anything else now.

Isak isn’t sure how much time has passed when a thirdyear from their own school bumps into them on her way to the kitchen and assoon as she locks eyes with Jonas Isak knows it’s all over. They share a fewflirty comments that Isak mostly drowns out before Jonas offers to accompanyher to the kitchen, taking her hand and throwing Isak a look over his shoulderthat’s one quarter apologetic, three quarters elated.

Isak watches him until he’s out of sight beforelooking back to the living room at large. He should probably hook up with someonetoo – not that he really has any desire to but it’s his safety net, hisinsurance.

Feeling suddenly too suffocated in the living roomand giving into the painful twist in his stomach at the sight of any girl he could potentially hook upwith, Isak escapes to the back garden.

It’s surprisingly quiet out here. There are a fewpeople milling around the door but everyone else must either be inside or outthe front. He finds a porch swing just off the decking and decides to make ithis unofficial camp until Jonas finally decides they can go home. Not thatgoing home is all that great an option either. Maybe he can convince Jonas tolet him crash at his tonight, insist he’s too drunk to go home…

He’s weighing the merits of actually getting wastedversus just pretending when someone abruptly drops down onto the seat besidehim. Isak starts, head snapping to the right to find a stranger sitting next tohim.

A very hot stranger, fucking hell.

Isak hadn’t seen him when he was standing up butjudging by the way he stretches out his long legs to keep the porch swingmoving, he’s tall. His blond hair is swept up in a quiff and he’s gotdevastating blue eyes that have Isak lost in something of a daze until thestranger’s voice startles him out of it.

“Halla,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Halla,” Isak replies automatically, eyes wide as theboy takes a joint from behind his ear and fishes a lighter out of his pocket.

“You don’t mind if we share the swing, do you?” theboy asks, placing the joint between his lips and cupping his hand around thetip while he clicks his lighter.

“No, it’s fine,” Isak replies dumbly, feelingslightly mesmerised as he watches the smoke escape from the boy’s mouth when heremoves the joint to respond with a quiet, “Takk.”

Isak spends an agonising minute wanting to stare atthe boy and trying desperately not to as the silence around them slowly growsheavy and awkward until the boy nudges him. Isak looks up and finds him offeringhis joint.

“Since you let me share the seat, I don’t mindsharing this,” he says affably, mouth curving up in a smile when Isakdelicately takes the joint from between his fingers. “I’m Even, by the way.”

Isak takes a drag, thankful to have something tofocus on, and exhales a moment later. “Isak,” he says, passing the joint backto Even and trying not to jolt when their fingers brush.

“You don’t go to Bakka, do you?” Even asks when he’sexhaled.

“Um, no. Nissen.”

Even looks at him, a smirk tilting his mouth as helets Isak take the joint back from him. “In enemy territory. Brave of you.”

Isak scoffs, feeling a little more of the tensiondrain out of his shoulders – even if Even leaning closer does have his heart ratchetingup a beat or two. “Nissen and Bakka aren’t enemies.”

Even tuts. “You’re no fun, Isak. This could’ve been agreat start to a modern twist on Romeo and Juliet, you know? Two star-crossedlovers meet at a party but their school rivalry is destined to tear them apart.”

Isak raises an eyebrow, ignoring the way he almostchokes on his inhale at Even’s words. “That’s a lot to take from a thirtysecond conversation on a porch swing with a person you’ve never met before.”

Even grins. “Everything is an opportunity for astory. You just have to look for it.”

Isak bites back his smile, nerves tingling in histummy when Even doesn’t move away after procuring the joint from Isak’s hand.

“Am I right in guessing you’re a first year?”

Isak nods. “What about you?”

“Third,” Even tells him, leaning his head against theback of the swing and blowing smoke into the air. “So how did you end up herereally?” Even wonders. “Are you on your own?”

“No, uh, my friend Jonas is inside,” Isak says beforehe makes a face. “He’s otherwise occupied right now.”

Even snorts, casting him a sidelong glance. “Andthere wasn’t anyone in there for you to hook up with?”

Isak’s mouth feels dry as he shakes his head. “No,”he says quietly. “No one.”

Even considers him for a moment, eyes flickering overIsak’s face. Isak doesn’t know what he finds in his expression but it has Even noddingto himself after a minute and passing the joint back.

Pulling bravery from the depths of his chest, he hesitantlyasks, “How come you’re out here onyour own?”

Even blinks before a brilliant smile spreads acrosshis face. “But I’m not alone, Isak. You’re here.”

Isak nods mutely. It doesn’t answer his question butin another way it sort of does.

They drift between comfortable silences andconversations after that, sharing tidbits of information about themselves liketrading secrets long after the joint is nothing but ash. And Isak feels apleasant hum in his bones as he leans his head against the back of the seat,though he’s not sure if that’s because of the weed or because of the way Even’sknee is touching his where he’s turned towards Isak on the swing.

Even is in the middle of a story about his friendMutta when Jonas suddenly appears on the edge of Isak’s vision. He looks over Even’sshoulder, raising his eyes to Jonas who’s standing next to the swing, faceflushed and hair a little wilder than normal.

“Dude, are you ready to go home?” he asks. “You cancrash at mine if you want.”

Isak frowns; Jonas isn’t one to leave his hook-ups allthat quickly. “What time is it?”

Jonas gives him a strange look before saying, “It’s1am. Come on, we can get McDonalds on the way.”

1am.

Has he really been out here with Even for almost twohours?

He looks at the boy in question who offers himnothing more than a smile, giving no indication whether he wants Isak to stayor go. Isak really doesn’t want to go.

But he also doesn’t really have a valid excuse so henods at Jonas and reluctantly pulls himself off the porch swing. Jonas isalready heading back up to the decking, satisfied that Isak will follow and he’sabout to when Even catches his wrist.

“You should come to more Bakka parties,” he says,expression unreadable but sending a thrill down Isak’s spine nonetheless.

Isak feels a smile tug at his lips as he nods. “Iwill.”

Even grins and releases him, settling back into theseat again in satisfaction. “See you around, Isak.”

“See you around, Even.” Isak feels Even’s eyes on himthe entire time as he jogs back up to the decking to catch up with Jonas who’swaiting for him at the doorway.

“Who was that guy?” Jonas asks when they start makingtheir way back through the somewhat emptier house.

“Just some third year from Bakka,” Isak says,ignoring the way his stomach is still doing flips. “He shared his weed with me.”

“Sick,” Jonas says, making a detour to grab theircoats before they step through the front door. “Sorry for abandoning you, bythe way.”

Isak shrugs, burying his hands in his pockets as theymake their way down the street. “It’s cool. I was with Even.”

As he listens to Jonas ramble about the girl he can’thelp but think something important might have happened to him tonight.

*

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #skam #my fics #asks #Anon