Magnus had experience with Shadowhunters even before his sudden involvement in the Brooklyn kids, and he’d always known that healing Shadowhunters was the warlock equivalent of attempting surgery on someone who wasn’t sedated.
They could not calm down. For some inexplicable reason it ran in their blood, the need to constantly get up despite broken bones or newly stitched wounds was innate in all of them. Plus, most of their injuries were fixable by their own hands, so those that they needed Magnus’ help with were usually pretty severe and sometimes exhausting to fix.
Jace Wayland was no exception.
“Please lay down, dear, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” Magnus pleaded, watching the blonde Shadowhunter struggle to sit upright on his sofa.
“You…said…you already got the…poison out.” Jace huffed, wiping a hand across his glistening forehead. “I need to…figure out who…who…”
“I got it out, but you’re still going to feel the effects. You can’t even think straight.” Magnus insisted, putting his hands to Jace’s shoulders and gently easing him down against the plump pillow that he’d brought in from the guest bed. “You need rest. Alec and Izzy are out investigating who poisoned you.”
“They could be attacked.” Jace croaked, finally having caught his breath now that he was resting horizontally. “I should be with them.”
“They are more than capable. That tracking method that Isabelle figured out is really working. They should be able to find whoever did this and take them out.” Magnus assured him. He watched Jace mentally battle himself, trying to figure out what the best option was for himself and his siblings. Finally he seemed to give up, probably knowing that his feverish brain and body wouldn’t cooperate long enough to even get him out the front door.
“Isabelle is so smart.” Jace mumbled. His eyes were glazed over a bit, his vision cast in the direction of the far left wall. His fever was making him a little out of it.
“That she is.” Magnus agreed, casting a cooling spell over Jace’s body. He watched Jace visibly relax, his stiff posture melting away. His fists unclenched. “Good boy. Just relax.”
“What’s that light?” Jace asked, his hand moving up to point vaguely in the direction of the far wall.
“Hmm?” Magnus wasn’t entirely paying attention. He was trying to remember the potion he had for fevers that wouldn’t make Jace any more zoned out than he already was. There was one with werewolf claw, Dravak scales, but did he have enough scales? He would have to check the–
“Magnus what is that?” Jace interrupted his thoughts again, persistently pointing at the wall. Magnus glanced up and felt his heart sink when he saw the gleaming red light on the wall.
“Oh no.” He muttered, standing up.
His far wall was made up of a collection of nearly two-hundred little glass vials. Each vial represented a Downworlder that he cared about, containing a piece of identification that Magnus hexed specifically so that he could keep track of them and how they were doing. They contained fingernail clippings, fur, scales, anything. And when one of his Downworlders wasn’t doing well, their vial lit up red.
He hurried over and pulled the glowing vial off the wall, his heart sinking when he saw the contents: a few wispy strands of brown hair.
“Jace, have you seen Simon recently?” Magnus asked, already pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. The Shadowhunter looked much more alert now, and he sat up straighter against his pillow.
“Not in a few nights. Why? What’s wrong?”
“He might be in trouble.” Magnus murmured worriedly. He looked over at Jace, whose face was clenched with pain and pressure from sitting upright again. “Lay down, blondie. It’s alright.”
He called Simon, pacing the length of his living room as the phone rang and rang and rang. Voicemail. Magnus pressed the call button again, refusing to give up. Nothing. Panic was beginning to swell in his stomach as he pressed call again.
“Just stay there, Jace.” Magnus said soothingly as he began to conjure a portal with his free hand. “I’ll be right back.”
“Is he okay?” Jace asked, sounding alarmed.
“We’ll see.” Magnus murmured, stepping through the portal. He was spit out into the boat house, which he’d only seen once when he’d taken Simon home from India. The place was considerably more spruced up now than it had been, which only served to make Magnus a little sad. He didn’t want Simon to have to make an old boathouse into a home.
He looked around, spotting Simon’s buzzing phone on a pea green chair in the makeshift living room that Simon had made. He moved forward, noticing with horror that Simon was on the floor, curled up behind the chair with a blanket wrapped around his body.
He was shivering noticeably, and there was blood around his mouth. Magnus looked to the side and saw a pool of blood on the ground, presumably where Simon had been sick.
Magnus tentatively put a hand to Simon’s shoulder, and the young vampire flinched.
“It’s just me, Simon.” Magnus whispered. “It’s Magnus.”
“M–Magnus.” Simon all but whimpered. “S’mthing’s wrong.”
“Don’t worry, darling.” Magnus pulled him gently up into a sitting position. He stretched his arms under Simon’s shoulders and knees and carefully lifted him. The fledgling’s skin was hot, hotter than a vampire’s should be. Magnus had no idea what was afflicting him, because it was pretty difficult to make a vampire sick. “We’re going to my place, okay? We’re going through a portal. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Simon clutched at Magnus’ shirt tightly, and the warlock took that as a sign that he was ready. He hurried to the portal and stepped through, aware the entire time of Simon’s state.
Jace had not laid back down, and when he saw Simon he attempted to stand up entirely.
“Is he okay? What the hell happened?” Jace prodded. He had to lean heavily against the arm of the couch to keep himself steady, and Magnus had to stop to think. He needed access to his potions, which were already set out on the coffee table. Both boys should be laying down, but Simon needed it more.
“Jace, sit.” He instructed, pointing at the armchair adjacent from the sofa. He eased Simon down to the now vacated sofa, untangling the blanket from his body and laying it neatly over him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jace pressed.
“I don’t know yet.” Magnus murmured, praying to God that Jace would just shut up and let him sort things out. He put a hand to Simon’s cheek, trying to get the boy to stir. “Simon? Come on, sunshine, wake up.”
His eyelids flickered open and struggle to stay that way. Magnus pressed a palm to Simon’s forehead and winced, trying to piece everything together in his head. Vampires only ran fevers when they were injured or poisoned by tainted blood. He didn’t see any outward injuries on Simon, and he was pretty sure Simon knew better than to just drink any blood he found.
“Simon, where did you get the last blood you drank?” Magnus asked, shaking his shoulder slightly to make him more alert.
“Raphael.” Simon rasped.
Simon and Raphael were on better terms now, having talked everything out and reached a tentative peace treaty. Raphael still wasn’t crazy about Simon, but he was supplying him blood and making sure he was safe. Magnus knew that Raphael would never give Simon, or really any innocent vampire, poisoned blood. So what was it?
“What hurts?” Magnus asked, resorting to his go-to question when he wasn’t sure what was wrong.
“Everything.” Simon croaked weakly. He was curled up into a tight ball, a hand pressed flat to his midsection. “It’s like a burning–everywhere. Happened really suddenly.”
“Sounds like what happened with me.” Jace remarked softly, and Magnus looked up to meet his gaze. He was right. The symptoms, the fever, the pain. It was all the exact same situation that he’d been in an hour earlier with Jace.
“Simon,” Magnus put a hand to his face again and forced him awake. “Did anyone have access to your blood? Anyone except Raphael? Or did anyone you didn’t know get anywhere near you in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No.” Simon mumbled. “Stayed at the boathouse. All day. Got my blood straight from R–Raphael. I’m cold, Magnus.”
“Here.” Jace tossed the blanket that was draped over the armchair to Magnus, who covered Simon with it. “Magnus, maybe it’s the same thing?”
“It can’t be.” Magnus muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “You were poisoned because someone infiltrated the Institute. Someone is after you, probably someone working for Valentine. They had a plan and they executed it. Why would someone poison Simon? And how would they even know how to find him?”
Jace shook his head, clearly as puzzled as Magnus. He absentmindedly wiped at his forehead, and Magnus noticed the pink tint to his cheeks. He waved his hand to cast another cooling spell, the first one clearly having worn off.
And then Simon relaxed on the couch, the flush to his face fading.
“Hey,” Magnus sat up straighter, “the cooling spell just worked on him.”
“What?” Jace mumbled. “Did it like, get onto him too?”
“That’s not how it works.” Magnus said. He watched in wonderment as Simon kicked the blanket away, now shivering with the added coolness. “Uh. So. Simon, when did the pain start?”
“Coupl’a hours ago.”
Magnus nearly laughed. “It’s the blood. He can feel what you feel.”
“The pain, the spell.” Magnus counted them off on his fingers. “You’re connected now. He can feel what you feel.”
There was a silence. Jace seemed to accept this, sitting back in his chair and simply shutting his eyes. He was probably to exhausted to think much about the situation. Simon’s eyelids flickered open again and he looked in Jace’s direction.
“Please don’t get poisoned again.”
Alec returned in the morning, and Magnus showed him his discovery. He had both boys sleeping in one of the wide four-poster beds in the guest room. They didn’t put up much of a fight about sharing a bed, considering they were both exhausted and sick. Plus, Magnus expected there was something that linked the boys that was a bit stronger than the shared blood.
“So it’s like Simon is your parabatai now, too!” Magnus teased, nudging Alec.
“No. Nope. It’s not.”
Simon slept for a long time, and when he woke up he was still clearly feeling shaky. But he was coherent enough to talk, which was an improvement from the night before.
Magnus had him propped up on the couch, sipping blood through a Sonic cup, while he explained the entire link as well as he could. Simon seemed unphased.
“Look, Jace is very reckless.” Magnus told Simon. “So you’re going to be in pain probably like, a lot. And when that happens you need to call me, rather than just laying on the floor of the boathouse. Alright?”
“I didn’t wanna bother you.” Simon said with a half-hearted shrug. “Like everyone always does.”
“It’s not a bother to take care of my family.” Magnus promised, running a hand through Simon’s hair. “Call me next time, sunshine. Alright?”
Simon rolled his eyes at the pet name, but he nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna go back to bed, okay?”
“No problem. You can pick any guest room you’d like, I just put you with Jace last night for convenience.”
Simon nodded and got up, and Magnus watched him shuffle into the room that Jace still slept in. He peeked in a few minutes later and smiled when he saw the boys curled up together, the same peaceful expression on both their faces.
A/N: I did plan on this being a longer series, but somehow, we managed to reach the end already - this is my first series that I’ve ever written and I hope it gives you a little taste of what to expect from me in the future! Thank you to all that have stood by this fic from the start to the end and the wonderful comments people have left me!
The first time you woke up in Stiles’ arms, you decided right then and there that he was your safe place. How they tightened around you every few minutes, and the flutter of butterflies erupted in your stomach. He was special, and deserved the world. It was something you thought and believed you couldn’t give him.
[Korean] [grammar] [study tips] [study notes]
Sometimes mother tongue grammar is harder than English grammar. In my everyday life, I just say , speak, write and read Korean without any complex thinking. So all those complicate grammar components which I didn’t notice before make me embarrassed.
So there, I write down example sentences to make me understand which one is gramatically right one. Learning grammar in sentence I think is the best way of studying grammar!
You know, Taehyung probably has that bad habit of not shutting up when it’s time to go to sleep. Like his first night sleeping in Yoongi’s bed has him so excited he’s almost buzzing from his spot next to his boyfriend.
“We’re sleeping next to each other finally!”
“Oh, waIt are you comfortable Hyung?”
“Do you need more blanket or pillows?”
“Are your feet cold?”
Yoongi is happy the younger cares about him so much but it’s literally four in the morning and all he wants is to sleep. The elder rolls over and wraps his arm around Taehyung, pulling him closer until the younger’s face is hidden in his chest, thinking it’ll make Taehyung shut up but it just gets him more hyped.
“Oh! We’re cuddling!”
“Hyung, I always thought you were more of a little spoon.”
“Are you sure your feet aren’t cold?”
Yoongi groans and lowers his head to bite into Taehyung’s neck. It works like he thought it would and the younger quickly shuts up while he blushes.
ok so @robertsdingle asked if i would be willing to post my robron with their kids headcanons, which i am happy to do, so here is a post full of them (also i have to say @reformedcharacter and @capseycartwright get a lot of credit cause a lot of these are like a combination of stuff we’ve said uwu) also this is in no particular order, im just scrolling through our messages and writing them as and when i see them :)
Spot Conlon wasn’t much of a romantic － that was a well-known fact. He didn’t care for Valentine’s Day, or romantic movies, or even flowers; those things were just so fake and weird. Romance was weird. Like you just opened yourself up to someone and showed them everything － the good, the bad, and the absolutely horrifying? Who the fuck did that?
Well, Kath and Sarah did, but that was because they were an actual healthy couple. Spot didn’t really understand that concept, but if Katherine and Sarah were happy, who was he to judge?
Your blog is so good! 😍🔥keep doing what you do!!💪🏻💪🏻 can i have a request for oikawa? Since he's always getting angst, he deserve something different 😍 if you do nsfw, can you write something about oikawa and his s/o being in different schools and after a year of dating and a rare chance when seijoh went to s/o's school for practice match, oikawa and s/o secretly do it in s/o's classroom 😏😏 if you dont do nsfw then ignore this! 😊😊 thanks!!
You said to bring him out of the angst but I think I dunked the poor baby back into it! I’m sorry, Anon! But hope you like it either way!
To say that it had been a long time since they had seen each other was the understatement of the century. Separation was not something that Oikawa dealt with well - something that Iwaizumi understands more than he would like - and the effects of the distance were beginning to weigh on him. It was obvious in the way he played, how he handled his schoolwork, and even his interactions with his friends. So, it was to everyone’s great relief when they were scheduled to visit her school for a practice match; especially Oikawa’s.
And it was no surprise to anyone when their captain’s person was suddenly missing from their ranks. There was no questionings as to where he could be, because everyone knew. Plus, no one was willing to interrupt whatever they could possibly find.
They didn’t want to think about Oikawa kissing along her neck, bodies pressed close in the isolation of an empty classroom. Or how he pressed her against the surface of the desk, mouth trailing hot down her neck as his hands worked to remove any offending clothing. Or how her nails clawed up his back when he pushed himself into her, moans tumbling from both of their lips. And they especially didn’t want to think about how he was pressing her to the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around his middle and her fingers tangling through his hair as they reached their ecstasy together.
So, they’d let him be. They’d pretend he wasn’t missing as he kissed her gently, fingertips trailing over her collarbone as whispered nothings filled the space between them. His hands trembling in hers, their nerves buzzing in every spot where their skin touched as words of goodbye clouding their emotions with tears. They’d let him have this rare moment with the woman he considered the most beautiful beings to ever grace his life and how he would make sure he would see her again shortly.
Because Oikawa and her deserved this much; this blissful, temporary moment of happiness.
Sharna couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous. She lost track of how many times she’d had to remind herself this was no big deal. How many times over the past two days she debated just how bad of a “friend” she’d be if she faked some kind of last-minute stomach bug and just stayed in LA. I mean, everyone would be so busy they probably wouldn’t notice, right? Just as she was thinking this for the 100th time, her phone buzzed from its spot charging on her nightstand.
She smiled as she answered the phone. “What’s up Fode?” Sharna asked as she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up Daisy into her lap.
“Are we to the point in our relationship where we are coordinating outfits yet?” He asked in a mock serious tone.
“Ugh…never. We are not those people,” she said rolling her eyes.
“Cool. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m bringing my off-the-shoulder romper and 6 inch Louboutins. You know… so you don’t wear the same thing and we end up on one of those ‘who wore it better lists’”
“I did.” She deadpanned. “I wore it better.”
He laughed, continuing his serious tone, “Guess we’ll find out. Seriously though, any specific dress code instructions I should know about?”
“Um…no, I haven’t really thought about it,” She lied. “Whatever is fine.”
Sharna had been hesitant to ask Pierson to go to Indy with her since they hadn’t been dating long, but relieved when he said he could go. She knew James’ schedule would be crazy, and there would potentially alot of awkward downtime with…um, people. Pierson was sweet and funny and could hang out and have a good time with anyone. He’d be a great buffer.
She tried very hard to not think about moral dilemma of whether or not using her new boyfriend as a buffer was a good idea. She tried even harder not to think about why she needed a buffer in the first place.
“Hellllooooo?” She heard Pierson’s voice on the phone bringing her back to reality.
“Sorry. Got distracted. Did I miss you saying anything important?” She giggled.
“Not much. Just that I was considering joining a bobsled team for the winter olympics,” he sighed sarcastically.
“Awesome. Best of luck to you.”
“Actually I got to go anyways, my phone is at like 2% battery. Talk to you later?”
She laid back on the massive heap of clothes on her bed. She had just spent the better part of 3 hours trying to decide what to pack. She had texted Nicole about 30 different pictures of outfits to get her opinion, but nothing seemed right. Her mind wandered back months ago when James joked about her wearing her jive outfit to the race. At the time she feigned indignation and they had a laugh about it. Now she scrolled back to the picture of them from last November in her phone and stared at it for too long. She found herself laughing and blushing at the thought of him wanting her to wear something so skimpy. Looking at the picture though, she had a sudden thought. She jumped off the bed quickly and grabbed a pair of black knee-high boots from off a shelf in her closet. Grinning, she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the dogs sitting on the bed. “Close enough…”
84. Cuz I'm clumsy as hell. Lol. With hoseok. <3 much love
A/N omg thank you so much i never knew how much i needed to write some Hobi smut. I’m gonna write more for Hobi, he’s so beautiful and i love him. Much love for you too!
84. Don’t trip.
‘Shhh baby, shhh! Be quiet!’
intoxicated giggles and lightheaded, whispering babbling filled the empty, abandoned room as you tried to make your way through the darkness.
‘Hobi there’s no one here! Rela- IIIH!’, you squeaked as you heard something behind you until you realized it was only the wind blowing through the cracks of the old, disintegrated wooden windows.
‘Baby! Shhh!’, Hoseok whisper-shouted once again but he couldn’t help but giggle again himself.
After a night of hanging out at the pub along with the rest of the guys, your boyfriend and you stumbled home, a little more than slightly buzzed, until Hoseok spotted an abandoned house at the corner of the street. He only needs a little bit of a buzz to get overly confident and adventurous so before you knew what was happening, he dragged you along into the spooky, cracking house because ‘It’s been too long since you two went on an adventure together.’
Right. The last adventure you had was when you took a walk and decided to take a de-tour through the pastures with horses, your shoes getting drenched with mud and horse shit and the horses almost attacking you. It did make a funny story to tell afterwards though.
Lost in thought, you didn’t see the obstacle on the ground in front of you and almost tripped over it as a result. You stumbled and gripped on to your boyfriend’s jacket just in time before you almost faceplanted the floor.
‘Oh my god that was close!’, you exclaimed, a little shocked but relieved you didn’t fall face-first on the dirty hard ground, a laugh bubbling up your throat as you clung on to your Hobi tighter.
Your laughter was infectuous as you got him giggling with you, like you were two toddlers in kindergarden.
‘Here, take my hand. Don’t trip.’, he chuckled as he didn’t wait for your reaction and firmly took your hand in his before leading you through the dark, deserted space again.
It seemed like you were standing in what used to be a living room, only this area strongly lit by the moonlight shining through big holes in the roof, the wood and roof tiles eaten away by the passage of time. The bright white light lit up Hoseok’s face, making you stop in your tracks instantly.
No matter how long you’ve known this boy, no matter how long you’ve been together, no matter how many times you’ve ran your fingers through his soft, chestnut brown hair and kissed his pretty plump lips, the sight of him would still make you stop and stare. You were starting to feel dizzy and you wondered whether it was because of him or the alcohol. Probably both.
As he turned around, confused at why you suddenly stopped, the game of shadows and light contoured his features in the most attractive way. Your boyfriend was already so handsome, but now, seeing him in the middle of the night with only the moon and the stars as a light source, he looked like a magical creature. The kind that’s so compellingly beautiful you knew it could only be meant to lure you in to some danger, and you couldn’t resist getting closer.
He parted his lips to ask you what was wrong but you captured them with yours immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and stealing the breath right out of his lungs.
A soft whimper left his mouth into yours as he grabbed on to your waist, pulling you closer until there was literally no space left between your bodies. Your lips molded against eachother like a lock and a key, a perfect fit. You opened your mouth to let him slide his tongue inside and whirl it around yours. Small, needy moans and soft mewls rolled off both your tangled tongues as your makeout session kept growing in heat.
Hoseok stepped forward, not letting you go for one second as he pushed your back against the nearest wall. His hands roamed all over your upper body until he placed them next to your head on the wall, leaning on them to pull back just a little and catch his breath.
You were both panting heavily, looking eachother intensely in the eyes before he smirked so cheekily your knees tended to give out. Your hands were still clawed into his white Tshirt as you closed your eyes and lifted your lips up once again, craving more, silently begging him to kiss you again. You missed the heat and softness of his full lips against yours.
Hoseok didn’t need to move much since his face was only mere inches away from yours, yet he chose to brush his gorgeous, sharp nose over yours and being so close you could feel his hot breath against your lips.
‘You look like a goddess in this moonlight.’, he whispered, still nuzzling your nose and drawing circles around the tip with his own.
Your grip on his shirt tightened and your breaths became shaky as you leaned your body into his in all-overpowering desire.
‘Hobi… I want you.’
‘Like here? Right now?’, his voice smooth like honey, like a sweet wave that washes over you, soaks into your skin and forms goosebumps all over your body.
‘Yes. Please, now.’
‘You sure you want that?’, he kept teasing you with that shit eating grin on his face. Drunk Hoseok was even more playful than sober Hoseok and you really didn’t have the patience to deal with it now. But you knew just how to make him cave.
You pouted and shook your head slowly while tracing a single finger up and down his sternum through his shirt.
‘Don’t want it oppa. Need it.’, you said softly, looking up at him doe eyed.
‘Oh, fuck..’, he sighed before he crashed his mouth on yours again and gripped your thighs to lift you up against the wall, ready to make sweet love to you in the dazzling moonlight.
Who knew his lame adventures could turn out like this as well?
Holster proudly considers himself a Coral Reef Expert - in the Justin Oluransi way, not the scientist way. It’s just, well, after three years spent living with his best friend and six months spent dating him, he may as well have a PhD in everything coral reef, Great Barrier and otherwise. For example, among his many, many other talents, Holster can sense exactly when Ransom needs a break, he knows what the signs of a panic attack look like before Ransom even knows he’s showing them, and he’s even started carrying Ransom’s favorite study snacks with him at all times, since they’re such a great distraction. He’s not trying to brag or anything, he just knows he’s a great boyfriend, one who knows exactly what a coral reef shutdown looks like and how to fix it.
But for all that he knows about fixing Ransom’s breakdowns, he emphatically does not know how to fix his own. Which is why, at midnight on a Friday night, Adam Birkholtz is missing the chance to dance at Samwell’s Winter Screw with his boyfriend in favor of lying on the floor curled up into a ball underneath a table on the second floor of Founders’ library.
Did he mention he feels like shit?
The library was his idea. His asshole Econ professor scheduled a major test for tomorrow, one that he can’t afford to fail, and refused to move it even after the Screw was announced. So, reluctantly, Holster had sent Ransom off with March and a goodbye kiss to party with everyone else and had set himself up to study in a secluded corner of the Reference section, surrounded by dusty old encyclopedias that look like they hadn’t been opened in decades. And until fifteen minutes ago, he was doing great. He’d stopped procrastinating enough to actually study three whole chapters, and he was all ready to start in on the fourth when things just… fell apart.
He doesn’t really know what happened. One minute, he was making flashcards and the next, his hands were shaking too much to hold a pen. A dozen things hit him all at once - their impending anniversary (what to get Rans, the light of his life?), the stress of this stupid test (there were still so many more flashcards to make), what Rans must think of him for ditching him tonight (he knows he understands, but that doesn’t mean Holster feels any less guilty about it). Graduation, leaving Samwell, finishing the hockey season, being a good captain for his team and an even better D-man for Ransom… It was a lot, and it was suffocating. So he did the one thing he knows works for Rans, no matter what.
He crawled under the table, tucked his knees in, and tried to let everything run its course.
Only things weren’t running their course, they were pressing down on him like a heavy weight, and he hasn’t been able to properly take a deep breath since he got down here.
As he hugs his knees tighter to his chest in an attempt to calm himself down, he hears his phone buzz from its spot on the floor next to him.
Rans: u okay? had a great time, wish u were here. can i come visit? founders, right?
Holtzy: fine, still working - wish i was there too </3 and yes and yes, second floor
It doesn’t work. The thought of Ransom finding him like this only makes things worse, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of panic that threatens to overwhelm him. This is a strictly one-coral-reef-relationship; Ransom needs someone stable, someone who can actually handle things, not some shaky mess that loses it over nothing.
He hears the door swing open and holds his breath. Rans is still in his suit - he must have come right from the dance. Holster watches as his dress shoes, the ones he usually saves for the hockey banquet, cross the room, then stop directly in front of him. His phone buzzes again.
Rans: bro i’m here, second floor right?
Holster doesn’t have to say anything, though, because Ransom immediately peers under the table at the sound, brows furrowed in concern. When he takes Holster in, his expression softens. He drops to his knees and shuffles under the table as best he can until he comes to a stop right in front of his d-man.
“Hey,” he says softly, and it may have only been a few hours, but man, has Adam missed him. “I think you’re sitting in my seat.” It’s lame, but Holster smiles anyway.
“Hi,” he says, his voice scratchy. “How was Screw?”
“Good,” Ransom grins. “March says hi, and April does, too. Jack and Shitty came down for Bits and Lardo and they’re both staying the night, so, uh, we’ll see them tomorrow. Everyone was cute, bro, but I needed you there to help me fine them all. We could have bought two new dryers with all that money!”
See, here’s the thing. Holster knows it was a joke, he knows it was lighthearted, he knows he didn’t tell Ransom what’s wrong, and that Ransom can’t read his mind. The rational part of his brain knows all of these things. But the stressed out part?
The stressed out part reminds him that he’s a terrible boyfriend for missing his last ever Winter Screw, the only one he would have attended with Ransom on his arm instead of as his wingman, and also that Ransom probably hates him right now.
So when he sniffs and his vision starts to blur, the wide-eyed, panicked look on Ransom’s face only makes him cry harder.
“Shit, Holtzy, um, it’s okay, bro, come here,” Ransom says, pulling Holster into his lap. He tries to remember the things Holster tells him when he’s in the middle of a panic attack, but nothing seems right, so he settles for running a hand through Holster’s hair instead. “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re okay.”
He doesn’t often see Holster like this, but he knows he’ll talk when he’s ready. They’re captains, they communicate, it’s what they do best on (and off) the ice. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Holster raises his head.
“You’re not mad?” he asks through his tears, and Ransom frowns.
“No, of course not. Why would I be?”
“Because I ditched you,” he sobs. “We were supposed to go to Screw together this year.”
“You had to study,” Ransom says, tightening his hold on Holster. “Nobody understands that more than me, you know that. It’s okay, I’m not mad.”
“But… but I fucked it up, like I always fuck everything up.”
“No, no, you didn’t. It’s not your fault you have a test tomorrow, it’s Professor Douchebag’s. And you could never fuck everything up,” Ransom adds. “You’re my best friend and a perfect boyfriend and an amazing hockey player and a fantastic captain, Holtz. The whole team thinks so, too. Well, maybe not the boyfriend part, that would be weird.” Holster sniffs, but he giggles a little, and Ransom smiles. “But everything else, yeah.”
“I really did want to go to Winter Screw with you, though,” Holster sighs. “I had my suit all ready and everything, and I was totally gonna get you flowers or a corsage or something, it was gonna be so good, Rans, and we were gonna be cuter than Jack and Bits.”
Ransom laughs. “Bro, we already are cuter than Jack and Bits. Come on,” he says, leaning back a little to actually look at Holster and wipe away a few tears, “Let’s get you out from under here, okay?”
Holster nods and pulls himself out of Ransom’s lap and up off the floor, with Rans not far behind him. He’s tapping away at his phone, and no sooner does Holster raise an eyebrow than Frank Sinatra starts playing quietly from the speaker.
“Seriously, Rans? We’re in a library,” Holster starts, but then Ransom’s setting the phone down on the table’s edge and holding his hand out, and his grin is blinding.
“Adam Birkholtz,” he starts, bending a little at the waist. “Can I have this dance?”
Holster, in true Holster fashion, lights up and immediately grabs Ransom’s hand, spinning him toward him. “Anything for you, bro,” he declares as they waltz down the Britannica aisle.
So, yeah, Justin Oluransi is basically the best boyfriend/bro/coral reef Holster could ask for. And maybe they didn’t quite make it to Winter Screw, but getting lost in the reference stacks is five times, ten times, a million times better, and much more them.
rhians hair is a mess bcos they mostly just let it grow but if a patch ever like flops in their face or anything they immediately just shear it off so im some spots its buzzed to their scalp and in others it reaches past their waist