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demonslayedher · 3 years

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Hello! I don't know if you've been asked about this before but I love your analysis and reflections and I'd love to know all your thoughts about Zennezu if you don't mind 👀⚡🎀 Thanks so much for this blog!! 😊💝

Thank you again for your patience, as well as your comments on my fics and stuff in the meantime (even on Bird Fic, kya~ thank you <3). All my thoughts, hmmmmn…. Well, clearly I am a fluffy ZenNezu shipper and ship-content creator now, but I sure didn’t start that way. This may be long and rambling and mixed between analysis and personal taste. (Actually, it turned into almost 4000 words.)

So. First a little background. I usually am not much of a shipper. The very few OTPs I have all ended in horrific tragedy, and when romance is a big focus of something I’m otherwise enjoying I usually end up not paying much attention to it in favor of all the other elements I like. This is so much more the case when you can tell they’re going to wind up happily ever after. So what happened to make me so soft and fuzzy about the Kimetsu ships, when I otherwise usually don’t have an appetite for happy fluffy romantic endings?

Three major factors: 1. I’m obsessed. 2. I love these characters and want to see anything and everything about them. 3. Romance wasn’t actually a big element at all in canon, so it left me with an appetite and curiosity for it.

Even though I figured from long ago that ZenNezu would be end game, initially I was somewhere between indifferent and put-off. As much as I love Zenitsu, and I acknowledge that Ufotable the added the “run around and chase Nezuko” bit and removed the part with Zenitsu adoringly talking to Nezuko through her box, and as much as he can be defended for being lonely rather a pervert, the fact still stands that his level of appreciation for girls makes the characters around him uncomfortable. His most cringe-worthy lines at the Butterfly Mansion are all straight from the manga, and even though he was easily one of my favorite characters by the end of my initial watch of the series, I was very put off by his “girls are all queens” surface-level comments and more disturbing pleasure he took in the presence of girls (especially when he could physically interact with them), not to mention his pathetic introduction bothering a complete stranger and displaying that he doesn’t actually take girls’ feelings into consideration.

All this made me inwardly groan, feeling bad for Nezuko, figuring they were going to wind up together because she’s a saint who can find the patience to deal with someone like that, as he clearly wasn’t going to be desirable to any of the rest of the female cast. Enjoying the series well enough despite this, it didn’t bother me terribly much, pairings happen, whatever, I have a history of ignoring them. But one day, well and deep into caring about this whole cast like they’re all my children, I realized something. Isn’t… isn’t it cute how they both get their strength from taking naps? W-wouldn’t it be cute to see them innocently take naps together? Naps to protect each other? Oh. Oh-h-h-h-h. Oh dear. Oh no, it’s cute. Oh no. OH NO.

And that was how my warming up to this pairing started, it very quickly grew into “I love these children and I want them to be happy, being with Nezuko will make Zenitsu very, very happy, I love seeing him happy, happy Zenitsu” but was still a little reserved about Nezuko. Zenitsu was going to make her happy, right? It wasn’t just going to be a case of Nezuko having gotten fond of him over the course of everything they’ve been though, he is actually going to be her taste and make her heart go “kyun” right? Oh Nezuko, oh saintly Nezuko…

Let’s take a moment to pause here and think chronologically, though, as well as analyze their personalities and tastes. Neither of them are particularly picky, we can start there. Aside from fussy busy-bodies like Aoi, as long as it’s a girl, any girl is Zenitsu’s type. He’s desperate, and he’s painted the whole of girl-kind in pretty similar, not always realistic rosy colors. Even though he’s been used and abused by so many girls in his past, it’s his desire to believe that each new one he meets will fit that rosy imaginary color he paints over them that he chooses to let himself be duped, because he really is that lonely. I’ll give him that, sure, he’s a healthy young man with an interest in physical touch, but his dream in Mugen Ressha gives a good indication of what he’s really looking for: companionship, someone who likes spending time with him, someone who will find him useful and believe in him and look to him for protection, someone who likes him enough to spare him the physical intimacy of simply holding his hand. This is all an extension of what Zenitsu desires as whole, hoping he can better himself enough to be reliable and valued in general. Picturing it in the form of a significant other is one very vivid way to focus all those feelings, resulting in that rosy ideal which Zenitsu probably knows in his heart of hearts is too good to be true. That’s why he probably doesn’t think he’s ever going to find it, and therefore why he’s all over any slightest chance of attaining it.

My gosh, if being abandoned over and over isn’t enough, the fact that none of the girls he dated in the past were ever willing to even hold his hand hurts so much.

Nezuko, though, grew up in a secure family with a good relationship to observe between her parents. She probably always envisioned growing up to be like her mother, the quintessential “good wife, wise mother” (a phrase coined later on in the Taisho period to idealize the traditional roles of a woman). She cooks and cleans and sews and the first fanbook even tells us she was good at using an abacus, so she can handle family finances like a pro. Her traditional values probably made her tastes pretty standard, hoping for a reliable protector, but also someone who might be as kind as her father and her brother. But as for what makes her heart go doki-doki? The extra comic at the end of volume 3 tells us that she does long since have a type, it’s a person who’s like a Hisha.

Hisha: a chess/Shougi piece that can move an unlimited number of spaces in horizontal and vertical directions, and is crowned a dragon when it enters enemy territory.

So, yes, this is the part where we all smile and point at Gotouge and say, “I see what you did there, Wani-sensei.”

I find this reassuring; it tells me that Nezuko can find her heart squeezed at how cool Zenitsu is instead of just coming around and liking him because she was flattered by his affection and learned to see how nice he is and stuff. There are plenty of nice Demon Slayers who are strong and cool protectors, but that ZING that Zenitsu has (when he’s asleep) is something that can make her heart race. I’m all for this. I hinge so much of my ZenNezu feelings on this Hisha comment.

The second fanbook states that Nezuko initially had trouble sorting out her memories, and because Zenitsu gave her two such different impressions, it felt like memories of two different people, but over time the memories overlapped to form one complete person. We could say that she and Zenitsu had two first meetings.

Initially, when she was in the box, her little demon heart did go doki-doki; it was the first time a boy besides her brother had protected her, so even though Oniichan is Number One in her heart for the general duration of canon, this encounter was sure to leave a flattering impression. However, when they met face to face that night, he was just some confusing dandelion yelling and screaming about weird stuff, and then he was just a confusing (and possible bothersome) dandelion wanting to hang around her and give her flowers and stuff. It’s anyone’s guess just how “there” Nezuko was at this stage, as she does seem to gain back more of her own will and thought processes over the course of the series, rather than being guided by very, very simple rules to govern her behavior.

Zenitsu feel in love at first sight, and the second fanbook tells us he asked Tanjiro about her human personality, seeing as she wasn’t fully there. He was initially doubtful that anyone so perfect as Nezuko could exist and figured Tanjiro must had been biased and therefore exaggerating, but can we blame Zenitsu for being a smidge guarded? He’s been let down a lot, after all.

We know from Taisho Secrets and side novels that Zenitsu spent a lot of time with Nezuko during their long recovery at the Butterfly Mansion. Even how much more thought we see Nezuko display in the Train arc, she probably underwent a lot of mental development in this time, and my guess is that due to how much he interacted with her, this is probably when Zenitsu went from being a strange dandelion to a strange companion. She probably focused more on the goldfish and the pretty flowers (which he did take her to see!) and any flattering mention of her brother, though. Zenitsu, I’m relieved to say, seemed to genuinely care about what would make Nezuko happy instead of selfishly assuming something like “she likes me too, she wants to marry me.” But knowing Zenitsu, he probably assumed that her willingness to spend time with him was an indication of being willing to talk marriage once she was more herself again, though.

Let’s pause here and put on our Oniichan goggles, though. Early on, Tanjiro has to insist to just about everyone that Nezuko is still her own person with her own thoughts and feelings. Being a demon has taken a lot of her freedom to act on her true nature away from her, but he knows she’s still in there and he treats her like an equal human being. He had to watch over and over as people see his sister and only think, “demon.”

And then there’s his friend Zenitsu, who looks at her and thinks, “girl. Girl! Girl. Girl. Sweet girl, adorable girl, best girl in the world.” And maybe that’s a little bothersome, but yes, someone gets it!! Someone understands! Even though Tanjiro’s initial concerns are keeping Nezuko from being bothered by unwelcome advances, as long as Zenitsu is willing to respect that Nezuko is not entirely able to speak for herself now, he seems pretty approving of Zenitsu (provided Nezuko decides she likes him back). I’d like to think there was an unspoken promise between bros on what boundaries to follow. Besides that, Tanjiro believes in Zenitsu a lot more than Zenitsu believes in himself, so Tanjiro probably wasn’t worried about the “strong protector” role a future husband should fulfil. Or at least, Tanjiro doesn’t seem concerned once he gets to know Zenitsu, he’d have rejected Zenitsu flat-out on that first meeting. Zenitsu, you are so lucky Tanjiro is so forgiving.

However, for as much as Zenitsu sees Nezuko as “GIRL!! Girl, girl, girl!”, he’s still got his rosy vision that conveniently clouds out any disturbing realities. She is, after all, a demon.

This is something Zenitsu never actually had the chance to struggle with, and I would have really liked to see him challenged by that reality a bit more. He never witnessed Nezuko’s berserker mode, nor did he ever see her struggle to keep from eating someone, he wasn’t even awake to watch her fight like a violent animal/angry toddler on the train. Had there been a scene of Zenitsu forced to face how terrifying she had potential to be, it would had really sold his commitment to Nezuko specifically, instead of only Nezuko as his most likely girlfriend candidate.

On the train, Nezuko has the good fortune of seeing another side of Zenitsu, getting one hell of a doki-doki moment. As she’s gaining more self-awareness back, it probably made those doki-dokis more complex too. While I understand there wasn’t a good opportunity to fit in the pace of the story, I love that Taisho Secret of her concerned about him before he wakes up. Instead of him just being that boy who shows her pretty things and says nice things about her Oniichan, this is when he starts becoming something a little more unique among all the people whom little demon Nezuko has bet and who have been nice to her.

In the months that follow, we don’t get much deviation from this slow development. Zenitsu’s feelings toward Nezuko don’t really change at all, but there’s another thing about this ship: neither one chose the other over anybody else. They sort of just came together, Zenitsu gets hooked on one girl at a time, but what if someone had come along with an interest in him? At what point would he had given up on Nezuko? Probably pretty quickly, if someone was serious enough about him. It wouldn’t have been a break up either, since he was still in the pursuing stages (might be more of a break-up conversation with Tanjiro, who had been tacitly supportive).

Actually, for most of the remainder of the series, the affection that Nezuko and Zenitsu build for each other is done when they’re apart, dwelling on their thoughts of each other. For Nezuko, we see this come out after the Swordsmith Village arc in her sunlit elation to see him again, and her efforts to greet him. She very clearly recognizes him and is happy to see him, a big difference compared to how she was more elated by the sight of a fishbowl before. In Zenitsu’s case, this deepening of his affections and running away with his thoughts and feelings results him declaring once and for all, this is her. He’s found her. This is the girl who he will be committed to his whole life, in his heart she is already his wife.

When human!Nezuko is gaining her memories back, her first impressions are of the boy showing her pretty things and giving her flowers, someone who probably has a crush on her, rather than thinking back to someone who she may have had a crush on. (Those cool impressions probably hit her later, I’m assuming, given the stress of the moment.) Romance is not immediately on her mind, though she does quickly recall having friendly affection for this boy for has always been so sweet to her. And Nezuko, handling his surprising level of affection gracefully, helps Zenitsu off the battlefield while he’s in terrible pain (though she probably was too, my poor girl, that fight with demon!Tanjiro was so rough). But honestly, not only is she probably too overwhelmed by everything to think much about romance, but she probably doesn’t take Zenitsu very seriously initially. She knows he’s got a tendency to overexaggerate, and it’s nice that he’s so sweet to her, but since he acts all fluffy and silly around her she probably thinks he’s not being that serious either. Furthermore, she’s got a lot of people to suddenly care about, Zenitsu has a lot to contend with for trying to get special attention. Hell, Zenitsu was probably awake and causing a racket while she was frantic with worry that comatose Giyuu might die. While she did remake Jiichan’s haori to fit Zenitsu’s later, see spent her time in the hospital mending Giyuu’s haori (Nezuko, baby, doesn’t your hand hurt though!?). While Zenitsu was swept up in happy “Nezuko is human now, we’re totally gonna get married” feels, he probably didn’t even notice that he was only one slice in a very big pie of memories that Nezuko suddenly found in her lap and had to slowly chew and digest.

So… this brings us to the extra post-canon comic in the second fanbook, which I initially did not like very much back when it came out in February. I’ve come around a lot to it, but what really hit me at first was “oh no, Nezuko really is only going to accept this marriage because she’s a saint, he’s not being desirable at all.”

But, treating it with a little more patience and sympathy for Zenitsu… he’s just gotten what he’s always wanted, of course he’s going to stop striving a bit and get blissfully carried away in it. And Nezuko, the ever sweet, isn’t going to stop him.

Some of the other commentary in the fanbook states that Zenitsu, for a time, found himself terrified of how girls could be sweet to his face while hiding their true thoughts about him. But, finding that Nezuko was not at all two-faced, he nearly “died and went to heaven” as the exaggeration goes. He doesn’t like to work hard in the first place (but does, because it will make people like Jiichan proud), so getting away with being spoiled is too big of a temptation to resist. Nezuko is sensitive to what makes the people around her happy or uncomfortable, so she never makes any request of Zenitsu. She’s so grateful to have their new little family that her happiness is everyone else’s happiness, she doesn’t really desire a heartthrob romance, even if being a wife and mother is an eventual goal. And, without being under any pressure to make someone proud, Zenitsu gets swept away and indulges.

Thank you, Tanjiro, for putting a stop to this.

He’s still rooting for Zenitsu, since this is his friend and he knows it would make his friend happy to wind up with Nezuko, but he’s setting himself up for failure, or setting Nezuko up to be cheated out on a good match at this rate (if she were to accept out of being nice). Very, very thankfully, Zenitsu responds well to pressure. By this point Nezuko has gotten so used to sweet but indulgent Zenitsu that he seems she totally accepted that his Hisha side didn’t exist anymore, if it even existed in the first place.

Good for Zenitsu asking for her response a year later (when they’d be getting to the legal marriage ages for the Taisho period anyway), he knew he still had shaping up to do to earn her affection. And Nezuko probably needed time to build some admiration for him again, since the doki-dokis were so gone. Even if he couldn’t use that super cool Thunder Breath anymore, it would probably catch her attention to see him strive again, to put effort into being manly, specifically for her. It wasn’t just the Thunder Breath that gave her doki-dokis, it was the Hisha knight-like attitude too, whether asleep and acting on his inner potential, or awake and bravely defending her based on his own goodness and faith.

I hope that in their married life, Zenitsu will retain that sort of manliness in being a provider for her, even he does get indulged a lot at home.

Now for how this plays into some of my fanwork and headcanons:

You know how I said all my OTPs were tragedies? Yeah, I love a good dose of angst. I did start writing a single-scene fic one time of injured Zenitsu desperately trying to cover Nezuko from the sun while waiting for Tanjiro to find them, and in Nezuko’s panic about the sun she starts losing her self-control over her appetite, and Zenitsu is forced to confront that the girl he loves could very easily kill him. I never finished it, though, and it was embarrassingly self-indulgent.

For my big favorite AU of a monster fanfic, I did add more ZenNezu on the massive edit, because by this point I just enjoy ZenNezu so much that I wanted more of it. But!! What I really like about working with it in this fic is that there’s a conflict: Demon!Tanjiro. In this canon divergence, Human!Nezuko and Zenitsu get to interact more than they ever did while she was a demon, and they both already have affection for each other, but the lingering fact that Tanjiro is technically their enemy gives me some tension and angst to work with.

Yes, I wrote a One Shot of Zenitsu and Nezuko as fresh new parents, but it was a bit of a dark dive into Zenitsu’s feelings of inadequacy. But domesticity comes with some inevitable fluff anyway, and likewise it felt embarrassing indulgent, and I can’t write fluff without a little bittersweetness. M…maybe the reason I’m not a shipper is because I’m easily flustered???

I’d like to think that Zenitsu got a desk job that he worked hard at because he wants to be a provider, and Nezuko does find his hard work attractive. I headcanon it was at an electric company, because hahahaha, electricity. I’d like to think he had a long career in that company (and although his colleagues know him for having a bit of an extreme personality and being obsessed with his wife, they sometimes catch glimpses of a very, very strong side of Zenitsu—like, scarily strong), and that when he’s old and retired in the Postwar Economic Miracle, he buys a fancy camera to take pictures of Nezuko (instead of “say cheese” it’s “Thunderclap and Flash!”), and he takes Nezuko to Paris because that’s the romantic thing to do. Also, I don’t like moustaches as a rule, but I totally approve of old man Zenitsu having a fluffy moustache.

World War Two, though… I’d like to think that if his job had him in the city, he was extremely reliable when it came to protecting his family in case of bombing. I’d also like to think that this was when the Kamado family moved to the city, because Nezuko was worried about Kanao and her nieces and nephews, so Zenitsu made sure they were all together. Inosuke might had taken the opposite route and taken his family to the mountains to shelter out there in the wild.

AAAAHHHH, listen to me being so self-indulgent with headcanons, I pride myself on sticking close to canon in my fanwork, I will never produce this, AAAAHHHH, I’m embarrassed~~~~I---I’m not a shipper! No! I don’t have a shipper’s bone in my body! Who needs romance, it means nothing to me, I don’t get swept up in happy fantasies about young newlywed Zenitsu and Nezuko, really I don’t, I take what canon gives me and I stick with it, I’m here for bromance and comradery and fights to the death, I—I don’t need disgusting fluffy feelings, ew, ew, no, really-----ahhh, too flustered, too flustered, too flustered, no, no, no, no, no, no, WHEN DID I BECOME A SHIPPER, nnnnnnnnhhhhjjjj

Which is all to say that Zenitsu and Nezuko as a pairing really grew on me, even though it is essentially a fluffy happy pairing that only got surface-level interaction and was never seriously challenged. It’s got some shadows lurking in there, especially diving into Zenitsu’s heart, but in general this was a slow build-up of mutual affection between two characters with pretty simple desires of their own, and most of all, a desire to see each other happy. That makes it a good comfort ship.

And they’re both are sleepyheads, hNNNGGGHHHhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH

#4000 words over the course of which I slowly begin to lose my cool #Zennezu #Zenitsu x Nezuko #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Kamado Nezuko #Kimetsu no Yaiba #kny #demon slayer #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

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Romanced Companions react to sole waking them up with kisses!

Cait:

"Sheesh, I'm up.."

At first she'd try to pretend that she was still asleep, only giving up whenever your kisses just wouldn't relent. Those vibrant green eyes would lazily open as she rolled over to face you, a pleased grin already forming on her face.

Usually she wouldn't like being woken up, especially if it was early, but for you- eh, she couldn't get mad. However she could exact her revenge and she would, practically tackling you in a trail of kisses that innocently begun at your lips before going down until she disappeared under the covers.

Curie:

“Oh my..hello love.”

Getting used to her synth body meant a lot of things for Curie. Everything was...hm, amplified. This is both a good thing and a bad thing in everyday life. However as it stood, when you did stuff like this, it was a very, very good thing in her eyes.

She’d awake with bright eyes, no trace of slumber held in their gaze as she lovingly looks at you. She’d giggle at the contact, draping her slender arms over your shoulders, anticipation building up and making her squeal once you finally connected your lips in a soft kiss.

Danse:

“Mmmh, good morning. *kiss* How about we stay in for a little while today?”

It was extremely rare that Danse wasn’t awake before you, so it was a close call between waking up or just letting him sleep in. Of course, you chose to wake him.

At first he’d try to move away in his sleep, shaking his head until he realized what was going on and woke up. Those pretty eyes would grow wide, showing his initial surprise- however seeing it was just you, he would relax. Soon after that, he’d put on a lazy grin and wrap those strong arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Perhaps his morning run could wait.

Deacon:

“Hey, that tickles!”

Deacon being the little shit he is, would at first pretend to be asleep. You knew better though, your love was a notoriously light sleeper. However you let it slide, you knew from the little grin he couldn’t keep under control that he was very much so awake and enjoying the affection. Truthfully, he was still getting used to the whole “sharing a bed” thing- so you bringing in a little silliness into the picture definitely was a relief to him.

Gage:

“Rise and shine, boss. Heh, come here.”

Gage almost never sleeps later than you, even on nights where he falls asleep way later. That being said, the surprise of being “attacked” by your loving kisses was very much so a welcomed one. Despite what many would think, there isn’t much in life that Gage loves more than your affection. He’s practically touch starved.

That being said, he’ll casually open his good eye, hands going straight your hips and startling you and causing you to sit up. Before you could do so much as make a sound, he’ll trail one hand up your back and push you right back down to connect with him once again.

Hancock:

“Well, a good morning to you too- beautiful.”

The very instant he is awake and aware, you’re flipped around and presented with an onslaught of kisses in retaliation. He doesn’t mind being kiss awake, but he won’t stand for not paying you back. As such, he’ll throw the blankets over your bodies, straddling your hips as the once innocent kisses quickly melt into much more passionate ones.

A couple rounds it is then.

Macready:

“Hm, you know..*kiss*..I usually don’t like being woken up, but for you..I can make an exception.”

Mac is not a morning person, that’s for damn sure. Not even having a child of his own could make him adapt to early mornings. However, though the urge to whine and pull the covers over his head was great, he couldn’t help but find the feeling of waking up a little less annoying when it was you causing it.

Having you wake him up like this? Oh, he was happy. Just hope you don’t expect him to actually get out of bed though, he’ll then proceed to gripe, saying that he wants “enjoy the moment” before pulling you down into a needy kiss.

Maxson:

“I could stay here like this forever..”

Sleep for him was tricky. Either his mind wouldn’t allow it or he’d just fall into a dreamless state from exhaustion, never did he consider that a peacefulness in the action would be attainable- not until you started accompanying him that is. Even then, Arthur despised being woke up...but somehow you were an exception to that as well.

Feeling the light kisses on his face made him automatically wake up with his heart fluttering, crystal blue eyes slowly opening so he could gaze upon that lovely face of your’s. He wouldn’t even say anything at first, instead choosing to bask in the attention you so eagerly gave to him. Eventually he’d just come to expect this each morning, considering it his favourite “wake up call.”

Nick:

“Darling..good to see you’re in a good mood already.”

Nick hardly ever slept. Being the specific type of synth he was, it was entirely optional. As a matter of fact, before you came into the picture, he’d hardly ever “sleep”. Then again, who was he to deny the alluring normalcy that came with relaxing in your loved one’s arms? He just couldn’t.

Having you do stuff like this only further reassured him that staying up all night, trying to figure out unseen details in a case, wasn’t always for the best. As such, he’d give you a satisfied smile and gingerly press a kiss to your cheek before finally willing himself out of bed.

Old Longfellow:

“Keep doing this and we’ll never get out of bed..”

The feeling of having someone next to him was probably a sensation he’d never get used to. In a way, he didn’t really want to anyways. It was for a lack of better words, lovely, to be surprised each morning by the comfort and affection of your loved one.

Even if he was a grumpy old man, he knew when to not take things like this for granted. As such, he’ll make sure to repay the affection tenfold. True to his word, it’ll take a little bit to get out of bed that morning.

Piper:

“Someone woke up on the right side of the bed..*yawn*.”

She’d initially wake with a big smile, practically melting when you allowed your kisses to trail down her jaw and to her neck. Usually she didn’t like being woken up, but this didn’t bother her one bit.

Preston:

“Good morning, babe. Mh, you look so gorgeous right now..”

Preston usually was the one to wake you up in that way, loving how you’d cutely squirm and mumble your “good morning” to him. So it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least, when you returned the favor.

Of course, him being himself, he couldn’t help but be mushy. He’d return your soft kisses, brushing your hair behind your ear before muttering some heartfelt comment.

Sturges:

“Already time to get up? Keep waking me up like this and you won’t hear me complain, sugar.”

It wasn’t uncommon that you’d wake up before Sturges, the man usually preferring to sleep in until at least 9:30. Usually you’d just let him sleep but today you changed it up, and he was very happy you did.

As soon as he was roused from his slumber, a soft smile would shape his features, his eyes not yet opening, instead he’d just lay still and pretend to sleep. Once you figured it out, he’d laugh, beckoning you down to lay with him for just a while longer,

X6-88:

“Wha..? Oh, um, apologies.”

Out of pure instinct, X6 pushed you away- seeming to not remember falling peacefully asleep beside you. In all honesty, he thought the innocent gesture was an attack attempt- that is until he gained full clarity and realized that it was only you.

You wouldn’t hurt him.

As quickly as he was ready to go on the offense, he felt guilt wash over him and he’d crack a sheepish- forced- smile and try to explain himself.

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 4 (of 7)

We’ll skip over the Jenga scene for now; there’s nothing I really want to add on from it, and typing up another post is going to kill me. Instead, we’re going straight to the next activity - and a fairly major split between choices.

This Devilgram is absolutely spoilt for choice when it comes (ironically) to choices - and each one brings about something new to learn. You can consider some of these latter parts joined up, then; I’ve just grouped together different route options for sake of reading.

Of course, we’re deep into the Devilgram now, so all territory covered is locked behind Story Keys! This is your cursory spoiler warning.

Here we begin, back to our regular schedule of Diavolo angst.

There’s a potential you thought “watching a movie together” was bad enough to write on a list of things Diavolo’s never experienced before, and wants to share in this rare moment of time he’s managed to attain alone with you. Perhaps you even thought “playing Jenga” was worse.

Neither of those activities, however, have anything on the concept that Diavolo actually, genuinely wrote down, on his list of things he’s always wanted to do with you, “lazing around, doing nothing at all”.

This is, I think, the biggest indicator that he’s just... never had an actual, genuine, casual friendship before. He’s never had someone willing to spend time with him doing nothing.

Which - well. We already knew that. He’s told us before (as I mentioned in part 1) that he genuinely struggles to remember he can just invite you over without having to trick you with “event planning”. He forgets you’re willing to be around him.

But there’s a difference between “oh, I forgot - you actually don’t mind spending time with me” and “I’ve decided that I want to schedule actual time to just do something so simple and basic, it usually happens when most people hang out, but I’ve never been able to experience it before and I think I’d enjoy that time with you more than anything.”

It hurts to realise most demons won’t spend time in his presence without reason, but it’s actively worse to realise this reaction means he cherishes the ability to do nothing with you. To just savour the fact that you’re there, you’ve stayed, and you really would be happy doing nothing at all. That someone can enjoy just being in his presence, nothing important going on, because they have nothing else to do but focus on him and they don’t mind.

It’s proof that he’s really enough. Proof that, despite how reluctant others may be to put up with him, you see something in him worth enjoying. He doesn’t need to take you out anywhere, or do anything special. He doesn’t need to make it perfect. He doesn’t need to awe and wow you to stay by his side.

He can just sit around, nothing planned, and you’ll stay.

The only times he’s been able to keep demons at his side, he’s had to tie them down with oaths and pleas. These demons have expressed annoyance, at times, when he’s tried to spend time with them - admittedly because they are busy demons, and they don’t quite enjoy the same things as Diavolo, but that doesn’t exactly make the rejection feel much better. So it’s very possible that Diavolo struggles to recognise his own self worth.

It’s very possible that he doesn’t think himself a good enough reason to enjoy a night in. Most friends can say - and often do - that they happily spend time together just hanging out. Talking, lounging around, relaxing, but not really doing much more than basking in the other’s company. Yet Diavolo can’t. Experience tells him “Diavolo’s company” isn’t enough to make someone stay.

That’s why it’s important to him to schedule this time in, despite how natural it should be. It’s not natural to him. It’s exceedingly rare, actually, and thus an activity he wants to enjoy when he has the opportunity for it.

But it’s also a reminder - proof - that at least to you, “Diavolo’s company” means something. That, to you, he means enough on his own to be worth spending time with.

Moreover, this time with you is likely dear to him due to how busy his usual schedule is. After all...

How much free time does a prince get?

How much time can he spend doing nothing, especially with you - someone so desired, people actively fight over your time and attention?

There is no better way to savour the fact he - for once - has all your time and attention, no pressing matters to attend to, than to do nothing. He can just sit there and enjoy you. No interruptions. No distractions. Nothing to fret over or worry about. Just the two of you, content in each other’s company. It’s a reassurance. A moment of, “wow, this is really real, isn’t it?”

More importantly, however, is the fact that it’s you. He’d love “nothing more. Together with you, that is...”

He doesn’t want to be on his own. That’s not the point of the activity. It’s not that he wants to do nothing, that he wants to just sit there and read or eat some fruit as if those things are significant on their own. He doesn’t just want free time because he’s busy and overworked and doing nothing is fun.

It’s specifically because you’re there. Because he’s not alone. Because these things he maybe does in his free time feel different when he’s doing them with you.

Of course, if you noticed, there’s two choices he gives you above: read, or eat fruit. I’ve gone for the reading option for this post series, as the fruit open mostly gives a romantic lead and not much development otherwise.

In this scene, Diavolo’s reading a book to you. It’s actually a single poem from an anthology he loves - from the Human World, once again.

(The Human World seems to mean a lot to Diavolo. It recurrs a lot. When he’s given the opportunity to pick something, it’s almost always media from the Human World. Whether this is because he hopes it’ll help you two bond over common ground or he just idealises the Human World, or maybe even a bit of both, is uncertain. Interesting, however, that it’s cropped up twice now; even more interesting that the only things he chooses that are Devildom-themed are games and food - things that don’t reflect human culture as much, unless you know more of the context behind them.)

The poem Diavolo reads is called “The Greatest of All.”

This poem is extremely significant for Diavolo. It’s a huge part of his characterisation in this chapter, and one of the more overt scenes at that - because he’s exceedingly clear that this poem didn’t make sense to him before. He makes it utterly transparent that something has changed - in him, in his life, in his understanding - to suddenly reveal the meaning to him.

And it’s all because of that final point.

“Only those beloved by their peers truly rule the earth.”

Diavolo’s a prince. He quite literally rules the Realm he was born in. As far as he’s aware, that’s all there is to ruling; be the monarch, and you’re there. It couldn’t possibly be more literal than that.

So what does that final line really mean, to a prince? What does it mean to someone who really is the literal definition of “ruling the earth”?

Almost nothing at all. It’s baffling. It’s nonsensical. How more truly could you rule than to physically be the demon in power?

Of course it would never click for him before.

He’s never been beloved before you.

It’s only recently that he’s understood the poem. Only recently has the Exchange Programme been in action, and only recently has he actually gotten closer to you - moreso in the much later Lessons.

Diavolo has spent much of his life in power, but completely alone. He’s had almost no connections, no friends, no love or intimate, personal attention; no-one he could say he understood like the back of his hand, who understood every aspect of him in turn.

He has power and wealth but he’s never truly ruled - not until someone who made him feel alive came into his life.

Because that’s the point of this poem. It’s not about wealth, or power, or bravery, or support - it’s about being loved.

You could have everything in the world, but you’d still be nothing compared to the person with little to their name expect the love of their friends.

Only someone who can say “I have friends who’ll stand beside me through thick and thin; who love me as much as I love them; who see the qualities in me even I didn’t know exist; who bring out the best in me and make me want to be better” is truly great. Only they can say that they have achieved the greatest potential in a fulfilling life.

Diavolo’s realised how empty his life was prior to you appearing in it. He’s realised just how little he had - how much he’s missed out on, how much he wasn’t getting from the other people he considers friends - and how much happier he is now you’re there. How much bigger he feels. How much stronger. How much greater.

You are the change that helped him make sense of the nonsensical. You, in befriending him, have utterly changed the way he exists; how he feels, how he experiences, how he thinks. You’ve brought to the table things he never would have considered before - things he never would have been able to consider, because he needed a friend to help eek them out of him; a friend he could love, and cherish, and whom loves and cherishes him just as much - and quite suddenly, he realises why having no-one limits a person no matter how much they own materially.

This poem is, very likely, the reason he understood how much you mean to him. At some point, he re-read it, reached that final line, and pictured you.

Which is an incredibly poetic way for Diavolo to show just how much you mean to him; how much you’ve improved every aspect of his life. Without having to say your name, or overtly connect you to the poem, it’s clear that it’s about you - that you’re the reason for his understanding.

Becase this poem means a lot to him, and you’re the person he wants to share it with; the one he wants to know he’s changed for.

Which perfectly leads us to this next part...

You’re his greatest person. He’s still dancing around it, but there’s really no-one else it can be - not with this description.

Diavolo has spent - if not his entire life, then a good portion of it, wondering who the most important person to him would be. There’s no way to quantify something like that - to know who’s the greatest person in your life, to find the perfect fit for a list of requirements - because everyone needs something different from the people around them. But what would that person look like for him? What would the most important person look like for a prince?

Someone as royal as he? Someone who supports him, bound to his service? Someone who has no choice but to help him in every way?

Or would it look like a human - a plain, simple, ordinary human - brave enough to tangle with demons and kind enough to befriend them, even when they don’t deserve it?

Someone willing to spend a night with him doing things others might find boring or rudimentary?

Someone who makes him feel like more than a title; like more than the “Prince of the Devildom”?

Someone who’s changed him - however many thousands of years old he is - in such a very short span of time?

When you think about it like that, really, it could only have ever been you.

+++

And thus concludes part 4! A middling one this time, I think; a bit long, but that final part was a little shorter than I had anticipated. Still, I hope you enjoyed it, and that it was easy enough to read!

Next post, we’ll be going over the concluding parts of the Devilgram - for the romantic route, at least. It’ll initially go over the scene that preceeds the choice between romantic and platonic, but then dive straight into the romantic aspect of the chapter.

So, if you’d like, please head over to part 5!

#obey me diavolo #obey me analysis #obey me

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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Today is the Feast Day of Saint Nicholas of Bari, Bishop and Confessor - Feast Day - December 6th

The real Saint Nicholas was a legendary figure – a muscular and generous Christian bishop — in his own time. He saved girls from sexual slavery, raised people from the dead, was thrown into prison for his Christianity, and even punched a famous heretic at a church council.

by Father Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

Saint Nicholas, whom the Almighty honored with numberless miracles, was born at Patara, in Lycia, of rich and pious parents, who having lived a long time without issue, at last, after many prayers, were rejoiced by the Lord with a son. It was a remarkable fact that Nicholas, when an infant, on Wednesdays and Fridays, refused to take nourishment from his mother’s breast until nightfall; and this custom of partaking of no food on those days, he observed as long as he lived. When sent to school, he carefully avoided all interaction young men, and still more with the other sex. He shunned all occasions of evil, chastised his body by watching, fasting, wearing a penitential girdle, and read only such books as aided him to acquire virtue and knowledge. In this manner he preserved his innocence inviolate through all dangers. Having made great progress in virtue and knowledge, he was ordained priest by the bishop of Myra, who was his God-father. As he felt himself obliged by the sacredness of his station to strive to attain greater virtue, he redoubled his austerities, his fervor in prayer, and his zeal in doing good. The rich inheritance which came into his possession after the death of his parents, was employed only to relieve and comfort the needy.

Among these were three young virgins whom their father, impoverished by misfortune, had advised to maintain themselves at the cost of their virtue, as he saw no means to provide for them. St. Nicholas, having heard this, went, during the night and threw into the father’s room, through the window, as much money as was necessary to give one of the three maidens a marriage dower. The same was done, after a lapse of some time, for the second and the third; and, by this noble work of charity, the father and the daughters were saved from temporal and eternal ruin. After some time, by order of the bishop of Myra, Nicholas was charged with the care of a monastery, and performed this task with great prudence and care.

Meanwhile, his heart was filled with the desire to visit the Holy Land, and to pass the remainder of his life in solitude. The day on which he set sail he prophesied to the sailors that they would soon encounter a severe storm. The sailors, thinking they were better skilled in such matters, laughed at him, but the issue showed that the Saint was right; for so terrific a storm arose that all on board thought themselves lost. Hence they begged the Saint, as God had revealed to him the danger, to implore Him to turn it from them. Hardly had the holy man begun to pray when the winds abated and the storm ceased. Similar miracles the holy man performed frequently; hence he is honored and invoked as a special patron of sailors. In Palestine he visited the holy places with great devotion, and made the resolution to remain there in some retired spot, where he might serve the Almighty undisturbed. But, by divine admonition, he returned to his monastery, where he did not remain long, as God inspired him to go to Myra, the capital of Lycia.

The bishops of that country had just assembled at Myra, to elect a successor to the late bishop, and while they were praying to be guided by heaven in their choice, God revealed to one of them that they should choose him who, on the following morning, should first enter the church, and whose name was Nicholas. St. Nicholas, knowing nothing of what had passed, was the first who entered the church the next morning. A bishop who had been appointed to be there, having asked his name, took him by the hand and led him to the assembled prelates, who informed him of the divine will and consecrated him bishop in spite of the tears he shed and the objections he offered.

Nicholas considering that so high an office required high virtues, endeavored to lead a still more perfect life than before. He practised severe penance, partook daily of one meal only, and never touched meat; took his short rest on the bare floor, gave all the time left to him from the administration of his functions to prayer, daily said holy Mass, at which he often shed many tears; visited the prisoners, the sick, and the poor of the city, among whom he divided almost all his income; preached on all Sundays and Holydays, and frequently visited the churches and parishes of his diocese, providing all with able priests and a sufficient income. In one word, he did all that could be expected of a bishop, who perfectly fulfilled his sacred duties. At that period there were still many pagans in Myra, besides an idolatrous temple, and the emperor sent his officers to exterminate Christianity and restore the pagan worship. On this occasion our holy bishop showed his generous seal. He went through all the streets and into all the houses exhorting the Christians to remain faithful to Christ, without fearing for himself either danger, persecution or death. He was seized, dragged out of the city, and cast into a dungeon, where he remained until Constantine the Great ascended the throne. The holy bishop experienced the greatest joy when this emperor gave orders to demolish the idolatrous temples and to build churches in their places. He himself assisted at the work and rested not until all pagan temples had disappeared from his diocese. Some time later an opportunity presented itself to him to fight against the Arian heresy, which he condemned in the Council of Nice.

The many and great miracles that he performed and the fame of his holiness gave him great consideration. Eustathius, an avaricious officer, had condemned to death three innocent citizens, living not far from Myra, in order that he might take possession of their property. No sooner had St. Nicholas been informed of this than he hastened to the place, where he found the three men already in the hands of the executioner. The Saint ran towards him and took the sword from him; he then reproved the wicked judge with severe words, and thus freed the innocent persons, amid the great rejoicings of the people.

Still more remarkable is the following: Constantine, the emperor, had condemned three of his most renowned generals to death, on false accusations. These, having heard much of the holiness of the Bishop of Myra, called on God to come to their aid for the sake of His servant. In the night before the day on which the sentence on the three prisoners was to be executed, Constantine saw St. Nicholas standing before him, threatening him with divine vengeance if he did not immediately recall the sentence against the innocent men. In the same manner the Saint appeared to the unjust accuser. Both, greatly frightened, set the prisoners free, and sent them with many rich gifts to St. Nicholas, to thank him for having thus protected them.

Almost at the same time the Saint appeared to some sailors who were in great danger of being wrecked, and had invoked him. They saw him at the helm, guiding the ship safely to land. When they expressed their gratitude to him, he said: “My children, give honor to God; I am but a poor sinner.” Taking them aside, he said that their sins, which he named to them, had been the cause of the danger they experienced, admonished them to repent, and then dismissed them. On account of this and numberless other miracles, the holy bishop was called the Thaumaturgus, or Wonder-worker of his age. All his biographers unite in saying that he raised many dead to life. Among these were three children who had been-cruelly murdered and cast into a tub; and this miracle is frequently represented by artists in their pictures of the Saint.

Although St. Nicholas was gifted with such high graces, and administered his episcopal functions so well, he yet feared that he did not do enough, and frequently prayed to God to release him from this burden. A voice from heaven, however, encouraged him, saying: “Fear not, Nicholas, I will recompense thy faithful services.” God also revealed to him the day and hour of his death, and the Saint, rejoicing soon to see the Lord, received with great devotion, the holy Sacraments, and after a short sickness ended his holy life.

In his last moments he saw heaven open, and a great multitude of angels came to accompany his soul to heaven. His last prayer was the Psalm, “In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped.” When he came to the words, “Into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” he calmly expired. From his body emanated a miraculous oil, which restored the health of many sick. This oil is still flowing at Bari, in Apulia, where the holy body is enshrined, and is yearly visited by many devout pilgrims.

St. Nicholas of Bari, Bishop and Confessor (†343; Feast – December 6)

Divine Wisdom has willed that on the way which leads to the Messias, our great High Priest, there should be many Pontiffs to pay Him the honor due to Him. Two Popes, St. Melchiades and St. Damasus; two Doctors, St. Peter Chrysologus and St. Ambrose; and two Bishops, St. Nicholas and St. Eusebius—these are the glorious Pontiffs who have been entrusted with the charge of preparing, by their prayers, the way of the Christian people towards Him, Who is the Sovereign Priest according to the Order of Melchisedech. Today the Church celebrates with joy the Feast of the great wonder–worker Nicholas, who is to the Eastern Church what St. Martin of Tours is to the West. The Church of Rome has honored the name of St. Nicholas for nearly a thousand years (especially since the translation of the majority of his relics to Bari in 1087). Let us admire the wonderful power which God gave him over creation; but let us offer him our most fervent congratulations for that he was permitted to be one of the three hundred and eighteen Bishops, who proclaimed, at Nicaea, that the Word is consubstantial with the Father. The humiliations of the Son of God did not scandalize him. Neither the lowliness of the flesh, which the sovereign Lord of all things assumed to Himself in the womb of the Virgin, nor the poverty of the crib, hindered him from confessing the Son of Mary to be Son of God, equal to God; and for this reason, God has glorified this His servant, and given him the power to obtain, each year, for the children of the true Church, the grace of receiving this same Jesus, the Word made flesh, with simple faith and fervent love.

At the Council of Nicaea, St. Nicholas slapped Arius in the face for teaching that Christ was a created being instead of eternally one with the Father and the Holy Ghost. This action was in conflict with the directions of the Emperor, so the Bishop of Myra was brought before Constantine to answer for himself. The Emperor wisely deferred judgment to the Fathers of the Council, but this resulted in St. Nicholas being deposed as bishop. However, several of the Council Fathers that night shared a dream in which they saw St. Nicholas reinstated as bishop by Christ and His Holy Mother Mary. The next day, St. Nicholas was reinstated as bishop and treated with respect. It is possible that this incident accounts for his reputation as one who punishes bad children at Christmas (or on the eve of his feast) as well as rewarding good children.

Let us now listen to the eulogy of St. Nicholas, which the Roman Church has inserted in Her liturgy:

St. Nicholas was born of a noble family at Patara, in the province of Lycia. His birth was the fruit of his parents’ prayers. Evidence of his great future holiness was given from his very cradle. For when he was an infant, he would take his food only once on Wednesdays and Fridays, and then not till evening; whilst on all other days he nursed frequently: he kept up this custom of fasting during the rest of his life. Having lost his parents when he was a boy, he gave all his goods to the poor. Of his Christian kindheartedness there is the following noble example. One of his fellow citizens had three daughters; but being too poor to obtain them an honorable marriage, he was minded to abandon them to a life of prostitution. St. Nicholas having come to know the case, went to the house during the night, and threw in by the window a sum of money sufficient for the dowry of one of the daughters; he did the same a second and third time; and thus the three were married to respectable men.

Having given himself wholly to the service of God, he set out for Palestine, that he might visit and venerate the holy places. During this pilgrimage, which he made by sea, he foretold to the mariners on embarking, though the heavens were then serene and the sea tranquil, that they would be overtaken by a frightful storm. In a very short time the storm arose. All were in the most imminent danger, when he quelled it by his prayers. His pilgrimage ended, he returned home, giving to all men example of the greatest sanctity. He went, by an inspiration from God, to Myra the metropolis of Lycia, which had just lost its bishop to death, and the bishops of the province had come together for the purpose of electing a successor. Whilst they were holding a council for the election, they were told by a revelation from Heaven, that they should choose him who, on the morrow, should be the first to enter the church, his name being Nicholas. Accordingly, the requisite observations were made, when they found St. Nicholas to be waiting at the church door: they took him, and, to the incredible delight of all, made him the Bishop of Myra. During his episcopate, he never flagged in the virtues looked for in a bishop: chastity, which indeed he had always preserved, gravity, assiduity in prayer, watchings, abstinence, generosity, and hospitality, meekness in exhortation, severity in reproving.

He befriended widows and orphans by money, by advice, and by every service in his power. So zealous a defender was he of all who suffered oppression, that, on one occasion, three tribunes having been condemned by the Emperor Constantine (who had been deceived by calumny) and having heard of the miracles wrought by St. Nicholas, they recommended themselves to his prayers, though he was living at a very great distance from that place; the Saint appeared to Constantine, and looking angrily upon him, obtained from the terrified Emperor their deliverance. Having, contrary to the edict of Diocletian and Maximian, preached in Myra the truth of the Christian Faith, he was taken off to a great distance and thrown in prison, where he remained until Constantine, having become Emperor, ordered his release, and the Saint returned to Myra. Shortly afterwards, he repaired to the Council which was being held in Nicaea: there he took part with the three hundred and eighteen Fathers in condemning the Arian heresy. Scarcely had he returned to his see, than he was taken with the sickness of which he soon died. Looking up to Heaven, and seeing Angels coming to meet him, he began the Psalm, “In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped;” and having come to those words, “Into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” his soul took its flight to the heavenly country. His body, having been translated to Bari in Apulia, is the object of universal veneration.

Almost all the breviaries of the Latin Church, up to the seventeenth century, contained most fervent praises of the virtues and miracles of St. Nicholas, and give more explicitly some circumstances of the Saint’s life than is in the above Lessons. The following portions of this Office dwell with complacency on a fact which is not mentioned in our more recent liturgy—we mean the miraculous oil, which, for more than 900 years, has flowed from the tomb of the holy Bishop, and by means of which God has frequently wrought miracles. The responsory and antiphon below were formerly so familiar to the faithful, that in the thirteenth century their music was sung to the responsory Unus Panis, and to the antiphon O quam suavis est, of the Office of Corpus Christi:

R. From his marble tomb there flows a holy oil, wherewith the blind are anointed and healed: * The deaf recover their hearing: and the weak return home strong. V. The people rush in crowds, desiring to witness the wonderful works which are done by him. * The deaf…

Ant. Oh! the mercy of Christ, worthy of all our praise, which makes known, through the length and breadth of the world, the merits of his servant Nicholas: for from his tomb there flows an oil, and it heals all that are infirm.

Novena Prayer of Petition to St. Nicholas (Also can be said separate from the Novena)

Glorious Nicholas, my own protector! from that bright throne where thou dost enjoy the vision of thy God, in pity turn thine eyes upon me; ask for me from God those graces and helps most seasonable in my present necessities, whether spiritual or temporal, and especially the grace of . . . . . . if such be expedient for my eternal welfare. Forget not, glorious and holy bishop, our Sovereign Pontiff, the holy Church, and this pious city. Bring back to the right way of salvation those who live steeped in sin, or buried in the darkness of ignorance, error, and heresy. Comfort the sorrowing, provide for the needy, strengthen the weak-hearted, defend the oppressed, help the sick; let all know the effects of thy powerful patronage with Him Who is the supreme giver of all good. Amen

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be to the Father.

V. Pray for us, blessed Nicholas. R. That we may made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Let us pray:

God, Who has honored, and ceasest not daily to honor, Thy high-priest and glorious confessor, blessed Nicholas, with innumerable miracles: grant, we beseech Thee, that, by his merits and prayers, we may be delivered from the fires of hell and from all other dangers. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

(Indulgence of 50 days, Pope Gregory XVI., 1880)

In 1087 Italian merchants stole his body at Myra, bringing it to Bari in Italy. His representations in art are as various as his alleged miracles. In Germany, Switzerland, and the Netherlands, they have the custom of making him the secret purveyor of gifts to children on 6 December, the day on which the Church celebrates his feast; in the United States and some other countries St. Nicholas has become identified with Santa Claus who distributes gifts to children on Christmas eve. His relics are still preserved in the church of San Nicola in Bari; up to the present day an oily substance, known as Manna di S. Nicola, which is highly valued for its medicinal powers, is said to flow from them.

#st nicholas

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meigh-day · 4 years

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Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 7

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Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Mentions of Guns/Knives and Violence, Blood

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.8k

Previous Next

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The house was fairly quiet at this time of the night, even with all the members of staff and family who were still up competing their own work, the sounds of life within the house were dulled. Tendou raked a hand through his red hair, any product that had held it up and away from his face earlier in the day had worn away at this point. He'd spent the last few hours in a very heated meeting and was feeling completely exhausted. Seijoh had been sticking their nose in their territory, doing little things here and there to just be a pain in the ass. They were probably still sore after Tendou and his team had shown up to one of their safe houses and just laid the place to ruin. It had been a show of power, to keep them in their place and out of their district. The meeting hadn't come to any resolution for the problem which meant they would be meeting every day until the best course of action was decided upon.

He hated meetings at the best of times but especially right now with them looming over him and no indication of when they would end, stealing away the time he could be spending with you. It had killed him to leave you behind, it was a crime really, leaving you looking so flushed and cute. If not for Yamagata's, horribly precise timing, those lips of yours wouldn't have been left un-kissed. As he moved further down the hallway the light radiating from the kitchen caught his attention and as he neared the entry the sounds of a conversation reached his ears.

"I'm not saying he's my favorite person or anything,,,but I just hate the way she bad mouths him to anyone who will listen and in the same breath sucks up to him..."

"'Not like she was trying to hide why she came here in the first place. I heard her blabbering on the phone earlier saying how she only wants him because of his position."

"Ugh, and if that's not bad enough, she left this huge mess behind for us to clean up..."

Tendou stood frozen, hidden in the shadows next to the doorway. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut, their words kept replaying in his head as the fears he'd been trying to suppress suddenly sprang to life. You'd been lying to his face this whole time. Pretending he was special to you, just to get close to him, just so you could get something from him. He'd been right to be cautious in the beginning but he'd only done that because he was afraid he wasn't good enough for you, he never thought you might be using him. He never though you would turn out just like everyone else. It was too much, his heart was hurting and he didn't care to hear whatever else they might have to say. So, he pushed silently off the wall and disappeared down the hallway, fighting off the tears that threatened to obscure his vision.

"Well, now that Y/N is here, Nanako will have to find someone else to sink her claws into."

"Hah, fat chance anyone in this house will want her. No one did to begin with..."

Your night had been pretty uneventful after Tendou'd been called away. The kitchen was a bit of a mess but you cleared away the blood, some of the staff were even kind enough to help you out with the remainder. It was a little sad to have to put away the extra pillows and blankets you'd set out in the sitting room in preparation for the movie. When everything had been put away, you decided to simply spend the rest of the night in your room. With all the excitement leading up to the date, add to that the almost kiss, you were feeling a little rubbery as you made your way through the corridor. A loud sharp voice pulled your attention away for just a moment as you passed the girl you'd met in the garden several days ago. You'd found out her name was Nanako and that she wasn't very well liked among the staff. She wasn't someone you wanted to get to know, so as the two of you passed by each other, you kept your eyes elsewhere.

Nanako hated you. She hated every single thing about you. She had worked her ass off to get into this house, persistent in her pursuit of power. It wouldn't be possible to really attain any sort of status in the family as she was, no, for someone like her she would need to marry into it. Her sights had been set on Tendou, he seemed like the easiest target out of everyone, she had been sorely mistaken. Trying to get to him was like trying to crack open an egg only to find out you were holding a rock. But you? Well you just swan in and suddenly everything she had been trying to get was just going to be given to you. It boiled her blood and one of these days she was going to find a way to make you pay.

Morning found you retracing your steps right back to the kitchen, on the hunt for your morning caffeine. As soon as you cross the entryway, your eyes are greeted by a delightful sight, Tendou. He was leaning against the counter, mug in hand, taking a long drink of what you assumed to be coffee. The expression he wore reflected the sourness of his mood and you wondered if the meeting he'd been called away to had gone poorly.

"Good Morning Satori." You greet him with a smile as you move further into the room.

"Hm?" He turns his eyes on you and any warmth they'd held seemed to vanish as soon as you came into view. "...morning." His gaze didn't linger long as he greeted you. You couldn't put your finger on it but he sounded off. It was hard to tell if it stemmed from anger or melancholy. Either way, your brows creased in worry as you watched him.

"Did something happ--" You started to ask but were cut as he placed his mug in the sink, maybe a little harder than necessary.

"I gotta go."

He was gone in a flash and you were left standing in the kitchen feeling fairly startled by the shift in his attitude towards you. What the hell happened? Whatever it was, he'd made it quite clean that he didn't want to talk about it at the moment. It stung a little to have him act so coldly towards you but you couldn't even imagine the stress he might be under. There was almost nothing you could do to help him with his actual work but, still, you had to do something for him, anything to try and help bring some of the light back into his face.

So you tried, for days you tried. You sent him little text messages and silly pictures, hoping they would brighten his day but he never replied. You got up extra early to make him coffee but it remined untouched and cold on the counter. It got to the point that if you entered a room, he would leave. The breaking point for you was when the two of you had passed by each other in the hallway. Just a few days ago this would have been a perfect opportunity to have a quick chat. It had become so common that you immediately reacted with a smile and a wave, a cheerful greeting on your lips as he passed by, completely ignoring you, not even glancing in your direction. Suddenly you felt very lost, standing all alone in this big hallway. You could feel the prickle of uncertainty, of self doubt, begin to creep up in your mind. There was no way he didn't see you, there was no one else in the hallway. Could it be that he was mad at you? You tried to think over the last week or so, trying to remember what you had been doing, trying to figure out when you might have made a mistake.

Yua found you awhile later, still deep in thought, as you sat in the garden, staring blankly ahead at the bellflowers. Concern pulled across her soft features as she watched you a moment, unfazed by her appearance at your side.

"Y/N? You ok dear?" She places a wrinkled hand on your shoulder, the sudden touch jolting you back to the present with a small jump. "What's got you looking so upset?"

You feel the corners of your mouth twitch, trying not to fall into a frown as you prepare to say the words you've had rattling around in your head. "I-I think Satori is mad at me." You wince, a sensation of pain in your chest at the thought that those words might be true.

"Mad? At you?" Yua snorts in disbelief, finally taking a seat beside you. "I can't imagine why he would be dear. Did he say something?"

"No..." You shake your head.

"Then he did something..." She peers up at you, her gentle eyes taking on a sharpness as she presses you for information.

You give a non-committal shrug. "He's just...I think he's avoiding me. Every time I try to talk to him he leaves and now he won't even look at me..." The image of him walking by you earlier flashed in your mind. Walking by you without the smallest indication that he saw you, it was like you didn't exist, as if you were nothing. You felt your lips tremble as tears began to well, the memory clawing at your heart.

"Why that little...." Yua clenches her fist, wishing he was here so she could hit him upside the head. "Y/N, my dear." She took one of your hands in hers, offering up a reassuring smile. "I don't know what's going on in that boys mind but neither will you if you don't talk to him."

She had a point. Right now all you could so was sit around and worry about what ifs. The only way to find out what had happened, what you might have done, was to go and talk to him. Yua watched you in silence for a moment, curiosity getting the better of her. "You must like him quite a bit." Your eyes widen at her statement, the answer must have been written on your face since she simply nodded and smile. "Well then, best to go talk to him and get this whole thing straightened out."

"Mhm." You nod in agreement and stand as she releases your hands back to you. "Do you know where he is?"

"He should be in his office." She smiled up at you as you start to depart. "I'm sure this is just a little misunderstanding. Good luck dear."

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

Let’s Talk About Your Hair

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Warnings: AU, Peter does a little hop, skip, and jump that’s sudden. There’s some smut and a little bit of angst. That’s about it, though! Notes: I found @whenstarkerwillbecanon‘s post about May being Peter’s cousin & had to go with it. I loved the prompt, so thank you for that. I tweaked it to fit my writing style, but I hope it’s kind of what you had in mind! Word Count: ~13.5k Summary:

A snazzy little AU where Peter and May are cousins. Peter has been in Minnesota for school over the past 6 years and returns to New York to take a job. Going back home means hanging out with his favorite cousin, and when she introduces him to her new boyfriend - he's surprised to see Tony Stark - his ex and long time love - sitting there next to her. Goodness ensues.

Read on AO3 here

6 years ago…

Peter was 21 and desperately in love.

Or - the one where Peter gets the shock of a lifetime and yearns away a little bit at a time.Peter was 21 and desperately in love.

Despite the fact that the end of college was quickly approaching and so many decisions needed to be made, Peter felt okay. The pre-med track he took through NYU connected him to his true passion, physical therapy and if all went well, he’d be attending PT school in the fall. His clinical rotations were a lot of fun and he enjoyed working with the patients – especially the younger ones, the dreamy eyes on those kids were a big motivation to chase all of the things he wanted. Things like his education and the beautiful Tony Stark.

He met Tony in Microbiology lab his sophomore year and they immediately clicked. Tony’s brain was fascinating and the vivid way he lived his life drew Peter in like a moth to a flame. Aside from acing their lab final and coming out of what was rumored to be one of the harder classes in his degree, Peter found himself with a Tony Stark attached to his hip, too. It felt good, being close to someone the way he could be with Tony – the lack of expectation and abundance of goodness made their time together priceless.

For two and a half glorious years, Peter and Tony learned the necessary things to graduate college and mapped out places in each other’s lives. With Howard still running the company, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted, and thankfully – what he wanted included Peter. The prospect of attaining his dreams and keeping the man he loved the most couldn’t be beat. It didn’t matter that there were better PT schools to go to, or that New York was starting to feel a little suffocating – he liked the flow of his life and didn’t want to change it.

Then – Howard Stark died. The entire thing was stupidly sudden, not a single person was prepared for it. Not the board of Stark Industries, and sure as hell not Tony Stark himself. Throughout their time together, Peter met Tony’s dad a handful of times. Each one of the witnessed father-son interactions was forced, boarding on the edge of hostile. There was no love lost between the two of them – Tony’s grief seemed to be based around the loss of his freedom, not the death of his father.

Like every powerful family, Tony walked into a legacy that took things from him in all directions. Between board meetings, R&D presentations, and the terrible Obadiah Stane’s never ceasing presence, it got a little harder to picture that happy ending they’d been planning for. No matter how well he knew the situation, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that things were different. Or, maybe he was just different – he couldn’t really pinpoint the dark bit of energy that sat in the center of his chest and started to collect.

By the end of the semester, Peter was barely getting to see Tony. With his rotations and the hectic schedule of a young business owner, there wasn’t a lot of time to kick back and relax – to fuck all over the apartment and waste the rest of the day recovering just to go again. In fact, Peter couldn’t remember the last time they even got to fuck. It was petty – deep down, he knew that. Holding anything over Tony’s head when the man was trying to juggle running a business and struggling not to mourn someone he couldn’t help but miss.

Peter didn’t often find himself in a place of selfishness – where he wanted what he wanted, and nothing was going to change that. Yet, he got there, anyway. Applying to Mayo Clinic School of Medical Sciences in Minnesota felt like a little act of rebellion.

He loved Tony too much to ever hurt him in a physical sense, Peter didn’t have any interest in cheating, or anything like that. The card he held removed his presence all together and the closer he got to the point where decisions needed to be made, the more uncertain he felt himself becoming.

About a week before graduation, Peter got his acceptance letter in the mail – the school he actually wanted to attend wanted him back. How interesting a concept that was – he could almost remember when he felt that with Tony. He was lost and that wasn’t anybody’s fault but his own.

The door to their shared apartment opened a couple of minutes later, Tony peaking his head in hours earlier than usual, a smile on his face.

The annual Stark Gala was later that evening and as promised, he’d taken the afternoon off to spend with Peter – their time later that evening would more than likely be very limited. Leaving the letter on the table, Peter got up off the couch and wrapped Tony in a hug. For some reason, tonight felt like the turning point. His heart was already beating out of his chest, Tony’s hands doing things to him without a second thought. Peter wanted to stay – he just wanted to be whole enough to want everything that came with staying more.

The delicate caress of Tony’s hands became distracting no less than a few minutes later – his fingertips digging into Peter’s ass cheeks through his jeans. It’d been a while, so Peter went with it, his arms wrapping around Tony’s neck tightly. Their kisses were hot, like each man could feel the bit of separation between them – Tony clung to him a little tighter and for the first time in a while, Peter felt good. He felt Tony making him feel good.

When he came a little later on with Tony’s name on his lips, Peter relaxed into the bed, a light smile on his lips. They stayed snuggled up together until a knock on the door was sounding and any other thoughts of intimacy were out the window. There wouldn’t be a single moment of peace for the rest of the evening. With one last kiss, Peter got up and out of bed, the haze of happiness rolling off of him.

Later, when he put a bag together and left without saying a word – Peter didn’t realize how blind he’d been. Without him knowing, Tony saw the letter and planned to surprise him with champagne later that evening. He didn’t get to see the other man sitting on the arm of the couch, fisting the bottle – wondering what in the actual fuck happened.

Instead, he got a bus ticket and made his way to Minnesota, his acceptance email to the Mayo Clinic PT school fresh in the sent folder.

For days to come, he would look back and wonder what the hell compelled him to just up and scram – to leave everything behind other than the basic necessities and his favorite picture of him and Tony. Even presently, Peter can’t come up with the greatest reason. He acted on instinct and fled. For whatever reason, he lacked the feeling of completion and needed the space to find out what that meant – and how he could change it..

Present Day

In the six years that he’d been there, Minnesota sort of grew on him. The cold sucked – that’s the first thing he realized when he got there. What he’d been wearing in New York, even in late May, was not appropriate for the small town he walked into after getting off the bus. He did a quick perusal of town and figured it would be as good of a place to start over as any other. Rochester, Minnesota – he remembered he picked the Mayo Clinic PT school there just because it reminded him of New York – he thought it was ironic.

Now, it’d been home away from home for a few years. After getting a pretty decent one-bedroom apartment and a job at the PT clinic within the actual medical school – Peter set up camp pretty quickly. He dropped his New York number and started completely fresh. It tore at his heart, turning off the last line of communication he had with Tony – he’d been ignoring all of his calls and texts, the desperate emails – but he made his decision.

Why not get all the breaking done at once?

He figured the longer he was gone, the easier the heartache would get. It felt deserved, for being callous in the way he just up and left – dropped off the map. The longer it lasted, though, the more Peter started to doubt his decision. School was going great and he loved getting to receive the education he actually wanted – but was it worth the cost?

To try and take his mind off of it, Peter tried to date – as miraculous as that sounded with the busy schedule he kept. A part of him could honestly say he knew going into each date that they were already doomed. He tried – at least, he wanted to say that he did. The new guys were always held up against the highest pedestal, no matter how hard he tried – Peter couldn’t stop seeing Tony, couldn’t keep Tony off his mind. Tony, Tony, Tony.

In the collective whirlwind of time, Peter finished PT school and immediately stepped into a job as a traveling physical therapist. He worked with a couple of the local sports teams in the area and covered their games when in his little jurisdiction. It was satisfying – he got to do a bit of wandering around the state, watch sports in leu of doing an actual job, and it paid well. Yet, the longer he stayed in it, he felt himself getting further from that genuine feeling of happiness.

When it became more effort to get his ass to work and do his job, he figured it was time for a change of scenery.

May’s call came at just the right time, too – Peter dealt with a particularly difficult man-child of a soccer player that morning, his patience frayed and wearing down thinner than he ever thought they could. The buzz in his pocket drew him away from the notes he’d been trying to put together on the athlete, his eyes lighting up when he saw her name.

“May, my favorite cousin! How are you?” Peter said in a way of greeting, his tone warm, voice inviting. Of all the family Peter had left, May was possibly the only person he cared to keep in touch with. Her parents were great for taking him in his last couple of years of high school, but they weren’t his – not like they were May’s.

He heard a chuckle on the other side of the line, her voice never stopping him from smiling, no matter what. “I’m your only cousin, Pete,” she started, the thick sarcasm wrapping the words up, delivering them beautifully. “I’m on to you. I’m good, though – very good. I am also calling with a purpose.” She cleared her throat, the sign that she was serious.

Leaning back in his chair, Peter felt interest flare up within him – May’s suggestions and adventures usually ended up horribly, but they were fun, and they didn’t usually steer him wrong. He rubbed at the scar from their tubing adventure his senior year fondly, the memory one of his favorites to think about. “With a purpose. I’m sure this’ll be good,” Peter remarked, a chuckle leaving his lips, the laugh soothing the sting of truth in his words.

May rolled with it, the eye roll obvious in her next words. “Shut up – you know my ideas are the best. It’s not coming from me this time, though. I got a tip from one of my coworkers that the Nets are looking for a staff PT – thought you might be good for the job.” He felt his breath hitch – he’d been trying to get on with a singular pro team for a while now.

She must have caught the change – her voice excitedly talking again, “Oh, I knew you’d be interested, Petey! I’ll send you the information.” He could practically hear the claps coming down the line, her perpetual ability to be happy both delightful and irritating all at once. Shrugging, Peter didn’t deny that the job looked promising when he clicked on the link to look at the details. Within the hour, he clicked the submit button and sent the damn thing off.

The itch to go to New York was there – now he just needed to scratch it.

Luckily, his resume reigned supreme. During his time in school, Peter did a bunch of outreach with youth sports programs and adult recreation leagues. He took a big internship with Rochester and Oakland University his last two semesters in PT school – if anyone was qualified, it was Peter Parker. And the hiring bodies seemed to agree, after a lengthy Skype interview, Peter was flying out for a quick 24-hour turnaround trip. One in which he came back to Minnesota with a brand-new job and the chance to finally go home.

The move was pretty easy – much like his first trip, he didn’t bring much with him. The team put him up in one of the nicer apartment complexes in Brooklyn, a place that came fully furnished and with a delightful view of the back porches of the 3B patrons. When May came to help him, he could see the grin on her face – the idea of getting done sooner rather than later obvious. They took a look around the box riddled place when they were finished and decided that dinner out was the best way to finish off the night.

There were many things in the city that he missed, but good Thai food ranked pretty high on that list (that and Tony – but he wasn’t about to go and tell anyone that.) Settling into the low-lit booth of the place they found right down the street from Peter’s apartment, he let out a long sigh. “It feels good to finally not be moving. I feel like I haven’t stopped since I got here yesterday,” Peter fiddled with the silverware in front of him, a smile on his lips.

“I’m just glad you didn’t have more stuff to move around. The ER was hopping last night, so I’ve been feeling more tired than usual today,” she placed a hand over his, her touch stopping the restless fretting. “I’m really glad you’re here, Pete. It’s been weird in the city without you.” Her red lips pulled into a grin, eyes twinkling.

Peter dropped the utensils and turned his hands, surrounding May’s with his own. “I’m glad to be here, too. Disappearing like I did was stupid – “ he stopped, breath catching a little. So stupid, he thought to himself. May was in college when he left, her own experience just starting to get off the ground. She didn’t even know anything about him during that time – no matter how ‘close’ they were. “I’m happy to be back. And in Brooklyn – who would have thought?”

They chatted until the food came – the world narrowing down to noodles, deliciousness, and not much else for Peter. She might have been talking at him, but he wasn’t listening. For the first time in years, it felt like being at home. This wasn’t Pho’s from down the street in Queens, it wasn’t the best he’d ever eaten, either – but it felt familiar. He’d been missing familiarity for a while now, that realization hitting him harder than he figured.

Self-induced isolation could do that to a person.

As he finished up, Peter clued back into the conversation, his eyes watching May gesture through the rest of her story before he met her glance. “I didn’t hear a word of what you said. Sorry,” he admitted, his mind split in a million different directions. New York brought back so many things – memories and wants. Trying to pay attention to May was proving difficult.

“I said you have to meet the guy I’ve been seeing. It’s pretty new, but I like him. He’s unique and smart and sort of weird – but who isn’t these days?” May repeated, her cheeks flushed. “We’re going to meet at Sully’s in Manhattan. You know the old place.” She waved at him nonchalantly – like they’d spent so much time there over the years. He remembered taking her with him during her first winter break and hadn’t been back since.

Chomping down on those words, Peter shot her a sheepish grin – “I’m not going to be a third wheel, am I?” Peter questioned, his tone light, but the question serious. He hadn’t been successful in his own dating life in a while – the last thing he wanted to do was watch May get her flirt on for too long.

She shook her head, eyes bright – the pure shininess of her personality a little overwhelming, especially right that moment. He dropped a hand beneath the table and clenched it into a fist – the countdown backwards from ten starting (ten-nine-eight…) in his head. The tightness left quickly, but he felt a little rattled – his patience still on the wrong side of thin. “I promise that you won’t be.”

He took her at that and reluctantly agreed, his inability to say no to her something he needed to work on now that they were back in the same place again. Peter Parker grew into a respectable adult – he could put his foot down when necessary. Maybe. He hoped.

The next afternoon, Peter left his brand-new office and grabbed a cab – the process still as exhilarating as ever. At least he’d grown in his absence and the vehicles actually saw him when he waved from the curbside. Minnesota didn’t have the same hustle and bustle – so the luxury and relative newness kept him staring out the window the entire drive. The upscale buildings made his heart race a little – the reaction another clue telling him he was home.

The little café looked exactly the same as it did in his memory – upscale with a side of hipster. They tried to make the record player in the corner look vintage, but the current technology couldn’t be disguised. The Upper East Side had standards after all. He took a second to catch his bearings before approaching May and the dark-haired man sitting next to her. The particular color struck him as familiar – but then again, who the fuck was he?

Like she knew he was there, May turned to look over his shoulder and caught his eyes, her token smile pulling today’s pink coated lips up, causing a swift crease by both of her eyes. “There he is,” he made out, a hand coming up in a slight wave.

And then – he stopped in his tracks.

The man who turned to look in the same direction as May wasn’t just any man – no – his beautiful cousin was dating the one person Peter could honestly say he missed more than ever. His Tony – well, not really his anymore. Obviously. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest and run over there, every part of him paralyzed except for that particular muscle.

His mouth watered and for a second, he thought about turning right around and getting the hell out of dodge before something went wrong – before he lost control and got down on his knees to beg the man for forgiveness. The thought was so fucking enticing, especially when his eyes finally caught gorgeous amber honey eyes, the look there a mixture of surprise, excitement, and hurt. Gulping in a big breath of air, Peter forced himself to keep walking.

He could do this.

Rounding in on the table, Peter stayed on his feet next to the other open chair at the table – the idea of running still sitting in the forefront of his mind. May reached a hand over and patted his, the touch he figured was supposed to be comforting – instead, it made his skin itch. How dare she – ! And then it hit him that he didn’t have a singular right to feel that way. Guiltily, he flipped his hand over and gripped hers, the skin soft under his own calloused palm calming.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said genuinely. “Babe, this is – “ May started to say, her hand drawing back from Peter to pat against her boyfriend’s arm, his gaze fixing on Peter’s once again.

“I’m Peter, May’s cousin,” Peter blurted out, his hand shooting into the space between them. He felt like an idiot, a total loser still standing with his hand out and the single most confused look on his face. He didn’t need to see his own expression to know how freaked he look – he could feel the way his stomach was trying to drop out of his asshole.

A warm hand gripped his own a couple seconds later, the hold firm, the touch familiar. The natural chemistry between them swallowed Peter whole – his hand on fire and the arm attach to it numb and the chest attached to it trying it’s best to collapse in. The audacity of his body to be so mutinous – fuck the littlest bit of joy that settled over him. But god, he’d missed this man.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Tony, the boyfriend.” Tony shot him the still recognizable shit eating grin – his hand keeping Peter’s in the tight hold for another couple of heartbeats, each one dragging him down further and further. What were the odds? How could this possibly be happening? Chuckling, Peter covered up his freak out by dropping Tony’s hand and finally taking the seat he’d been standing by.

For a second, it seemed like May could read the tension suddenly infiltrating the room. Her eyes roamed between the two of them, eyelids narrowed. Then, she tilted her head and smiled sheepishly – “Great, now that’s over with – I’m going to grab some coffee. You two get to know each other.”

Peter shot her a look, the silent plea in his eyes obviously not recognizable – she merely nodded her head towards Tony and turned around, the conversation obviously over.

That same hand from before touching his made Peter glance up quickly, his eyes wide. Now that he wasn’t being watched directly, Peter took a second to really look at the man across from him. There didn’t seem to be any signs of aging, Tony’s face was smooth, aside from the goatee he’d only been nursing when Peter was around. His eyes were still that deep brown, the heavy wave of their darkness never failing to pull him in. His hair was a little longer – like he’d purposely been trying to grow it out.

Time was very kind to Tony Stark – so kind, in fact, that Peter could easily admit he was even more handsome than 6 years ago, a feat that didn’t seem fair. The hand didn’t move during his perusal, though the fingers attached to it did start to roam over the skin of his palm. The mechanism Tony used all those years ago to bring Peter back to the present. Blinking away the thoughts, Peter forced himself to teether to the spot, this next interaction one he probably didn’t want to miss.

“My May, Tony?” Peter ended up saying after a few more heartbeats of Tony tracing the lines of his palm, the familiar touch so goddamn soothing. There wasn’t much else to say – not when there were so many things unsaid, so many things that Peter wanted to explain, and by the looks of it – Tony felt the same way. Glancing over, Peter sighed with a sort of relief when he noticed May completely engrossed in the drink board, her fingers playing with her lip.

The deep vibrato of Tony’s laugh shot a tingle down the middle of his spine – his body not taking long to once again tune itself to the delicacies that were Tony Stark. He balled his right hand into a fist, a blinding hope that out of all the times he’d done it, this would be the time it actually allowed him to relax. No dice, though – Peter almost melted into a puddle when Tony started to speak.

“I didn’t even know you had a May, Pete. I was supposed to meet your family when they came in for graduation – but you know how well that went,” Tony pointed out, his hand drawing back now, the man knowing he had Peter’s full attention. “I’m just as surprised about this as you are.”

Peter could tell, too. There was a sort of vulnerability in Tony’s eyes that even in all their time together, Peter didn’t get to see often. For a second, he wondered if May knew that look – if she understood the gift she was being given. It took him way too long to realize Tony was a man of simplicity who gave affection the only way he could – with subtlety and in the littlest of ways. Oh, how he’d taken those little things for granted.

“I can’t believe it’s you that I’m sitting here with right now. Of all the people in New York,” Peter muttered, his hands spinning the pile of coasters sitting on the table. He couldn’t, either – it felt like the universe’s way of slapping him in the face. The karmic retribution for being a total fucking asshole to someone who in the end, didn’t deserve it – not a single bit.

Tony laughed then, his upper body adjusting against the back of the chair, his arm slinging over the back of the chair, resting there like this was some casual meeting, like just looking at him in such an open position wasn’t killing Peter from the inside out. Or maybe Tony knew exactly what he was doing to him, each move calculated to get the biggest bang for his buck – to pull the reactions from Peter and watch him squirm.

Either way – Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away. The thought of running coursed through his head again, this time to save himself the humiliation of this – this situation that could not go anywhere but further and further into the garbage. May didn’t know anything about their shared past, though �� she wouldn’t understand the immediate need to get the hell out of dodge and avoid her for the next however long. Preferably long enough for her to no longer be dating Tony, but he didn’t get to decide that little detail.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Tony finally uttered, a smirk on his lips – he was trying for snark, for aloof and uninterested. Peter could see the way he glanced at him, though – his rebuttal the guiding hand for their interactions from here on out.

Peter took the bait, the part of him that still belonged to Tony speaking before his brain could get in on the action. “I’m not disappointed. It’s so good to see you. You look amazing,” Peter prattled off, his restless hands spinning one of the coasters from the pile between his fingers. “I’m far from disappointed, Tony.”

He didn’t know how true that was, either, not until he heard the words for himself. Despite May being the person Tony sat next to, it immediately felt good to be in his presence. Like simply being in his orbit set things right, the magnetic field surrounding him finally put back into the correct position. The brunette across from him should have a piece in his life – the fact that he accidently walked into it a second time sign enough.

They didn’t get to talk for any longer after that, May brought over three coffees and sat down, the woman immediately starting in on her babbling – he forgot how much she could talk and how passionate she could be when she did. Peter didn’t stay much longer, the thought of sticking around to witness anything coupley between them making his stomach turn.

After making his escape, Peter walked for a while, the haze of Tony Stark and all he’d been to him bringing him under. When he eventually caught a cab home, it was well into the evening – he passed the whole day away thinking about a man from his past, someone who he felt like he had unfinished business with.

----

In an attempt to forget that entire meeting existed, Peter went out of his way to avoid May – with his job starting up and the season just coming to an end, it was easier than he figured it was going to be. There weren’t a lot of things for him to do, yet – but he enjoyed getting to know some of the athletes and familiarizing himself with the facilities equipment. It far surpassed the places he’d been conducting his rehabs in before.

There was no forgetting Tony Stark, he understood that after years of trying to clear his brain of the man – but maybe he could avoid dealing with him and the unsettling and unmoving feelings that were settling in again, taking root. He loved May and he knew enough about family code to keep his distance and remove himself from a situation that could get very bad, very quick.

It sort of worked, too – sooner than expected, Peter finished his first month in the city. Most of his apartment was put together and he finally felt settled in at his job. They team was on a little break, which meant he also got to take some time for himself – a thing he thought he might actually enjoy. There hadn’t been time for vacations over the past couple of years, surviving came first.

About to settle in for a nap, Peter sat straight up when his phone vibrated, the notification that “Maybe: Tony Stark” was texting him stealing all the air from his lungs. Throwing the phone down like it burnt him, Peter forced himself into a comfortable position and drew in long breathes, his chest so goddamn tight, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Finally able to use his brain to think and not just perform simple bodily functions (like breathing,) Peter picked up the phone again, his hands trembling.

Maybe: Tony Stark [2:26PM]: PICTURE MESSAGE Maybe: Tony Stark [2:27PM]: Do you remember Dum-E? He got an upgrade.

Peter lost his shit when he saw the picture, Tony’s prized robot was flipping him the finger, his traditional DUNCE cap sitting proudly on the top of its head. He pressed on the image to zoom in, the articulation of the joint almost spot on. Saving Tony’s contact, he moved to reply. It was against his better judgement – he shouldn’t even be thinking about it. But – he was weak. Peter didn’t have any trouble admitting that.

Peter Parker [2:31PM]: Tony Stark – did you teach your robot how to throw the bird just for me? Peter Parker [2:33PM]: Glad to see you’re still as elegant as ever.

He put his phone face down on the couch and forced himself up – his stomach growling all of the sudden. In times of desperation and nervousness, Peter didn’t get sick to his stomach. No, he felt the need to eat everything in sight, instead. The crumbled carcasses of 4 Doritos bags were already sitting on his counter, the evidence of his emotion fueled binges staring him straight in the face. Deciding on something healthier, Peter brought a bowl of cereal back to the couch with him. Finally letting himself look at the phone again, Peter got lost in the back and forth for a while.

Tony Stark [2:39PM]: Anything for you, Petey. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: I was just telling him about our little reunion, he wanted to show you how much he missed you. Tony Stark [2:42PM]: Still can’t believe that’s how you walked back into my life.

Peter Parker [2:45PM]: You two are such gems. Peter Parker [2:46PM]: That makes two of us. Peter Parker [2:47PM]: I am the king of great timing.

Tony Stark [2:50PM]: I am a delicate ruby, you’re absolutely correct. Tony Stark [2:51PM]: I literally just laughed out loud. It’s a good thing my private lab is y’know – private. Tony Stark [2:53PM]: You’re actually a huge dick with the worst timing.

Peter Parker [3:00PM]: You’d be a delicate opal, don’t lie. Peter Parker [3:01PM]: Are we talking about my dick now? Peter Parker [3:03PM]: In all seriousness, I know. I am. I’ll admit it. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry. Peter Parker [3:05PM]: Very.

Tony Stark [3:15PM]: I’ll take that as a compliment, Peter. Opals are multi-faceted. Tony Stark [3:17PM]: You started it. Tony Stark [3:18PM]: It doesn’t – mean much. I do accept it, though. Your apology. Tony Stark [3:20PM]: I knew where you went the second I saw the Mayo Clinic letter still sitting there. I wish you just told me, instead.

That last text message made Peter pause, his hand coming up to press against his mouth – the gesture a dashed attempt at keeping the gasp from falling from his lips. He never considered that, the fact that Tony would have simply gave him a hug and congratulated him. Peter took the strain and stress of Tony figuring out how to step into big shoes as something completely different, a lot bleaker. Maybe, at the time, he let it be an excuse, too.

There was a desperate sort of hatred for himself whenever he thought about what he did. On the other hand, Peter knew the only way he was going to grow was to get out and do it. There were obviously better ways to go about it – but he couldn’t change that now. The fact that May was dating the man he loved so much and treated so dirty – it all kind of made a twisted sort of sense.

Peter Parker [3:35PM]: It was a compliment. Peter Parker [3:36PM]: I did – it’s nice, I have to be proud when I can. Peter Parker [3:38PM]: Thank you – that’s all that I can ask for. Peter Parker [3:41PM]: I don’t have a good excuse as to why I didn’t. You were doing your thing, I didn’t think – I just went and did the same. Peter Parker [3:45PM]: I needed to figured things out – and I did exactly that. Just – a little too late.

When he didn’t get a response after that, Peter wasn’t all that surprised. Typing the words out felt lame and he knew there’d been no justice or retribution. At this point in either of their lives, it didn’t seem prudent for there to be – Tony had May, even if it still weirded him out a little bit to think about it. Peter made his decision six years ago, choosing himself over everything else. The least he could do was stand by that.

Making up excuses that would never explain the density of his want to figure himself out before he gave himself completely to another. And, wow did he want to give himself completely to Tony. Of course, there were better ways to go about it – there were much better ways. Stepping away from the situation, he formulated twenty, thirty – tons. Yet, Peter wasn’t sure he would have been able to pull off any of them without chickening out.

So – he dealt with the consequence. Hurting the person he loved the most, watching him with his cousin, feeling just the slightest bit incomplete – that was his penance. At least he knew he did the right thing for him. When the right person came around, no matter how much he wanted it to be Tony, he could genuinely and honestly be in it – giving himself would be so very easy. That thought made him just a bit more content – even if it didn’t keep him warm at night, it kept him sane.

The next couple of weeks went by quickly – he spent the days he didn’t go into the office wandering around the city, his heart truly full now that he was back. There truly was no place like home. When Ned and MJ found out he was back, they got together a couple times a week just to hangout and catch up. Ned worked for a computer engineering company and got to enjoy the spoils of his youth behind the keys. MJ taught at Midtown and came packed with the best gossip.

One night in the middle of June, the three of them were gathered around Peter’s coffee table, the remains of Chinese food scattered around. Peter had been in the city for four months now – each one better than the next. It felt good to be able to do what he wanted – to be able to afford copious amounts of food and stupid movies on DirectTV. They were watching the newest Men in Black when Peter’s phone vibrated. A soft smile slipped across his face when he noticed it was Tony.

For the first couple of days, it felt weird to be texting Tony so much. Tony sent him another message out of the blue the very next day that broke the weird spell of the past they decided to dredge up – and they’d been texting ever since. It remained casual – despite the vibe that Tony wouldn’t mind if it did. Peter wouldn’t, either – if he were being completely honest. But, May deserved more than that.

Glancing down at his phone, Peter felt his smile grow – Tony’s initial jump into conversation was always off the wall, always completely random.

Tony Stark [8:01PM]: Did you know that the state sport in Maryland is jousting? Tony Stark [8:03PM]: Like, legit medieval era shit.

Peter couldn’t hold back the laugh, despite not wanting to give himself away. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of it with anyone – but he’d already been caught out, MJ was too smart for her own good. “What, or I guess who, has got you smiling like that?” she quirked a brow at him, the lady like a bloodhound sniffing out a scent.

Biting into his bottom lip, Peter didn’t answer for a few seconds – his fingers too busy sending off a reply.

Peter Parker [8:07PM]: I did not know that. I’ve been to a Renaissance festival, so I’ve seen it – I couldn’t imagine that being a very practical sport, however. Peter Parker [8:08PM]: Did you find that on the back of a Laffy Taffy wrapper?

A warm feeling settled within him, the ease in which he could talk to Tony hadn’t gone anywhere – even with 6 years and a ton of baggage between them. Finally glancing up at MJ, he took a deep breath, the news he was about to give something that would probably confuse the fuck out of her. She was the only one he told about leaving for Minnesota, she knew how big of a deal it was to disappear like he did.

“It’s Tony,” Peter mumbled, his face heating, though his eyes never wavered.

In true Ned style, he jumped into the conversation randomly, his voice echoing around the room. “You mean like – Tony Stark? The Tony?” he asked, his entire body shifting, his attention now on Peter and MJ completely.

Blushing further, Peter nodded – his fingers brushing through his hair as he did. “The one and only. It’s weird – he’s dating May and I know that. And things are strictly friendly between us – but it could easily be something else.”

MJ moved a little closer, a hand pressing into his thigh. “I always thought it was a little weird that you were dating the golden boy. And when you left – I thought maybe that was the end. I don’t know, Peter – I hope you’re thinking about what you’re doing,” her voice sounded concerned, his heart warming a little at the sentiment.

“I am – I’m thinking about it, pretty frequently, actually. The last time I saw May, she didn’t talk about him much or bring him up at all, really. I can’t tell – but nothing is going to happen while he’s with May. Maybe he’ll stay with her, who knows,” Peter started to ramble, so he shut his mouth, his thoughts so scattered on the matter. Things were so natural, so easy – it made the whole situation a whole lot more confusing.

MJ brushed her long hair out of her face, an indifferent look in her eyes. From the get-go with Tony, MJ took that approach. She kept herself in it just enough to be a shoulder that Peter could lean against. “You’ll never convince me that he’s the great guy you say he is, but whatever you decide – I support you. Just don’t fuck up your relationship with May, we all know how important that is to you.” MJ stated, her eyes doing the smiling for her. She turned back to the TV and said nothing more.

As always, Ned followed suit. Shaking his head at the group antics, Peter shifted his focus back to his phone, his conversation with Tony completely absorbing him for the rest of the movie. He’d seen the movie before, anyway – the end was the only part that was really worth watching.

A couple hours later, MJ and Ned filed out of his apartment – Ned lightly punching his arm and MJ pulling him into a hug. She kept him in her arms for an extra second, her grip tight. “Be careful, okay? Can’t have you running away again.” Her words were whispered and driven home by the softest press of a kiss to his cheek.

He closed the door and leaned against it, the flurry of emotions from the evening hitting him – making everything he’d been thinking about magnifying tenfold. Nights with his friends were always fun, but stupidly exhausting – especially when MJ got into detective mode. In any other case, the details would have gladly come out of his mouth – it was nice to have friends he that he knew kept secrets like the pros that they were.

The collective thought of Tony still made him feel a bit raw. Like the wound could heal – he just didn’t know what the remedy was. A part of him knew he was dancing with the line, keeping his conversations with Tony going. Another part figured that they were both adults and could make sound decisions. Tony understood what he was doing just as well as Peter.

Which is why he was surprised to hear a knock on his door about ten minutes later. Checking his phone, he didn’t see a text from either Ned or MJ – though, it wouldn’t shock him if they just came stomping back in. At least they decided to knock instead of using his not so well-hidden spare key.

Pulling open the door, he started to speak, his mouth moving before his eyes bothered to take in what was in front of them. “What’d you guys forget – “ Peter picked up his head while he spoke, a soft smile on his face. Realizing who actually stood there, Peter straightened up, brown eyes wide. “Tony?”

Taken aback, Peter wondered for a second how the hell the man even found him. Though, he quickly realized he was dealing with a technology genius. He could also recall a conversation about an AI that dealt with most of Tony’s affairs. Licking his lips, Peter desperately tried to cure his dry mouth – just the sight of the other man enough to sweep his feet out from under him. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still sticking up from earlier.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony started, one of his hands pressing into the doorframe, his body only a foot or so away from Peter’s. The tightness in his chest made him want to buckle in on himself – the feeling way too fucking much. He watched Tony draw in a deep breath, his eyes murky with a gale of emotions. “Jarvis told me where you lived. I hope it’s okay.”

And just like that, Peter was stepping back from the door, the both of them hovering in the hallway, the space between them narrowed down even more now. “It’s okay – it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t doing crazy shit like that.” He let a light laugh leave his lips, the exhalation of breath doing nothing to ease the tension inside of him. “Why are you – why are you here?”

Tony straightened his posture at the question, the softness in his eyes hardening a little. So – they were going to have a serious talk, then. Crossing his arms, Peter steeled himself for whatever Tony had to say. In all of the time they’d been reconnecting – this conversation never made its way back to the surface, at least, not until this very moment.

He watched color spread over the top of Tony’s cheeks, eyes dropping to look at their feet. “I always wondered when you stopped loving me. I told myself that’s what happened – because it made it easier to accept that you left. You didn’t though, did you? Stop. You’re just a selfish prick,” Tony got out, his words harsh, despite the soft tone they were delivered in. “I thought – maybe we could be friends. There’s been enough time for the hurts in my heart to be patched. I got over it a long time ago. I did not take into account, however – how I didn’t get over you.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut – not because he didn’t want to hear them. Oh, no – he’d been longing to hear those words for years now. Digging himself into a hole didn’t have to mean certain death – he thought maybe he could find his way back to Tony someday. The damage came from the fact that, despite the immensity of want coursing through him, Peter couldn’t act – wouldn’t.

“You haven’t said a singular false statement, Tony. I never stopped loving you. I took the only out I could find – you finding yourself and giving more and more of your time to it – and decided I needed to do the same. Once I mustered the courage, I knew it would be the only time, so I left. I wouldn’t have left otherwise. You, me – we deserve this Peter, the one who knows what he wants and can make it happen. I’m just – the king of bad timing,” Peter whispered the last few words, the reality of them feeling like the final smackdown.

A silence settled between them then, the tension in the room coming to a head. Thinking about it later, he couldn’t decide who made the move first – all of the sudden, Peter was wrapped up in Tony’s arms and they were kissing – kissing like their fucking lives depended on it. He felt long fingers slid into his hair and tug, the warm press of Tony’s torso against his own absolutely divine. His own arms wrapped around Tony’s middle, his body on fire from that simple little touch.

The inability to think kept him under the haze of their joined passion, his lips moving without thought or hesitancy. Tony’s tongue plunged into his mouth and Peter hung on for dear life, his own head tilting to deepen the kiss even further. His chest burnt from the lack of oxygen, but he couldn’t pull away – the second the high of his skin against Tony’s left, Peter’s conscience would reign supreme again.

Tony’s chocked off moan snapped the delicate spell controlling them, Peter’s body on fire, his mind all over the place. “Fuck. Stop – Tony. We have to stop,” Peter mumbled, his hands moving from the solid flanks of Tony’s sides to the bulk of his shirt, fingers digging in. “We can’t do this.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he felt himself leaning in, his nose dragging over Tony’s. “This isn’t rejection – I just can’t. Not when you’re with May. I refuse to hurt her like that,” he pressed a final kiss to Tony’s lips and forced himself away – chest still heaving.

Both of Tony’s hands came up in surrender, the look in his eye resolute. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry, Pete – I shouldn’t have come here like this.” He kept his glance tied to Peter’s, the other man still so easy to read – his hurt and confusion written plain as day.

“It’s okay, Tony. It’s okay.” Peter didn’t know what he was saying was okay, or even if it was – but the need to soothe took over. He reached forward and palmed Tony’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the arch there.

For a second, Tony leaned into the touch, the bourbon color of his eyes buried under closed eyelids. Peter trailed his finger back and forth, the digit moving until he felt a breath of air against his forearm and Tony was pulling away. He didn’t say anything, he simply opened the door and walked through it. His eyes trailed after the other man until he was down the hallway and out of sight.

This time, he shut the door and slid down it – his head falling into his hands.

----

Never prescribing to the age old ‘when it rains, it pours’ thing, Peter wasn’t expecting the knock on his door early the next morning. After Tony left, Peter barely made it to the couch before passing out into a fitful sleep. Between tossing, turning, and a mind that didn’t want to slow down and stop – Peter could count on two fingers how many hours of complete sleep he got. Sitting up, Peter looked groggily around the room, the disturbance in his sleep something he thought he might have dreamed up until another knock sounded.

“Peter, I know you’re home! I can see your open porch door from the street.” May’s voice was the last thing he figured he’d be hearing. The taste of Tony still lingered on his lips – Tony’s stubble making the skin above them a little raw, too. How in the world could he face May right now – when he hadn’t even had time to process what happened, or how he reacted, or even how Tony reacted.

Grumbling, Peter got up off the couch, his feet heavy in their steps towards the door. It felt like he spent the night before getting completely wasted, yet he didn’t have a singular sip. A couple of quick runs of his fingers through his hair and Peter finally felt ready to pull open the door and face whatever might come his way. Even if it was terrible.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths, his hand not wanting to move to actually get the damn door open. He braced himself, the idea that he might take a hand to the face or harsh words thrown his way that would eclipse him. There was nothing, though. May simply looked at him, two to-go coffee cups in her hands. “Are you going to let me in?” she asked, her voice neutral, the look in her eye hard to read.

He took a step back quickly, his arm sweeping wide. “Hi May, yes – please come in. I just got up, so my brain still isn’t working all that well.” It would have sounded like an excuse if he weren’t still shirtless with marks from the couch all over his right side. He stepped back further, the space now more of an open invitation that May took gracefully.

If this were a social call, they would have wandered to his makeshift bed of a couch and sat down – his cousin’s hands already moving to take the remote and put on whatever show she was currently addicted to. She would have jammed the coffee she was holding into the thickness of his chest, the joke of almost scolding him something they’d been doing since Peter came to stay with May and her family. The atmosphere would have been a little bit more accepting.

Yet, none of those things happened. May put his coffee cup on the middle of his kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs. Knowing how different things would have been, Peter didn’t hesitate to take the seat opposite her, his hands wrapping around the warm to-go cup on instinct. He didn’t even take a second to put a shirt on – he simply sat down and waited, each second that past like a sweet torture.

Eventually, she pulled her phone out and started to flip through it, a concentrated look on her face. Finding what she needed, May pushed the phone over towards him. He took it a little hesitantly, his mind wandering around all of the possible things that could be on that phone. There wasn’t anyone else around when Tony came here last night – so with that, at least, they were in the clear.

His breath caught, though – the photo on her screen one he knew with familiarity, one that he glanced at more times than he cared to remember. The memory of the day the picture was taken still sat fresh in his mind. They were at Tony’s place, probably about a year into their relationship. They were celebrating the end of the semester and people were everywhere – the streaks and blurs in the background their friends caught in a second of chaos. Peter and Tony were in the middle of a conversation when MJ called over – “Snuggle up, love birds – let me take a picture.”

Peter could still remember how quickly Tony stepped up behind him, arms embracing without hesitation. They both beamed at the camera, the smiles on their faces so genuine. What Peter liked the most about it, though, was the fact that MJ caught them a second before they looked back at each other.

Peter’s face was turned as if he were trying to look over his shoulder, his smile bright and big but eyes oriented in Tony’s direction. The hand on his chest was splayed open wide, Tony’s fingers one of the main focuses in it. The look on Tony’s face showed affection and happiness – but most importantly, love.

MJ gave it to them both in a frame a couple of days later, the gorgeousness of it something that even she couldn’t deny.

Eyes a little watery, Peter looked up from the phone and over at May, a questioning look in his eye. “Where did you even find this?” Peter knew for a fact that his copy was tucked into the box in his closet – one in which he only allowed himself to go through every now and again, one that he specifically brought in and put away himself.

“It’s in Tony’s lab. We were supposed to meet for lunch a few weeks ago, but he couldn’t leave, so I met him there. He left for a minute to get cleaned up, so I snooped – because why not, right? There are a couple of the two of you, but that one is right in the middle of his workspace. He told me a little bit about this epic love he still wasn’t really over, and it never once crossed my mind that it was with you.” May stopped then, her hands reached across the table for his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The soft touch of her hands felt like a drastic juxtaposition to the raging war of emotions keeping him right on the edge of panic. As a distraction, he watched her thumbs brush against his hands, the movement hypnotic, easy to get lost in. The lull seemed to help calm him a little – Peter glanced back up at her, apprehension still so very visible.

“I didn’t treat him well at the end. For a while, it was nice to have this thing that was all my own. And when it got serious, I freaked a little. I ran away because I felt too much. It was easier not to acknowledge it out loud – because telling you about him made the selfish thing I did a lot more real. It took a while to find me and then a while after that to cope with how big of a dick I am.” He paused then, taking a long breath.

“I never thought I’d see him again – never. Then, he’s sitting next to you and everything I have neglected for six years suddenly hit me square in the face. May, you seemed happy – I’ve been selfish enough,” Peter knew he had to get all of that out, or he probably wouldn’t, the acknowledgement of so many things harder than he ever imagined possible.

He gripped her hands, pulling them towards him a little. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” And that was the truth. Regardless of how badly he handled other things, Peter couldn’t be careless with something like that – May and her feelings. Even if that came at the cost of his own.

At that, she chuckled, her lips quirking into the first real smile on her face all morning. “I saw the way you two were talking to each other the day I introduced you. It doesn’t take a genius to know chemistry when you see it. The picture just sort of – put all the pieces together. It’s okay, Pete. Really.”

Quirking a brow at her, he pulled his hands away and sat more fully in his chair. “There’s nothing going on, May. I – “ Peter stuttered out, but she held a hand up, a soft little smile on her face.

“There’s nothing going on between Tony and I anymore, either. He came over last night, started to talk a bunch of nonsense. It seemed like a good time to tell him I’d been seeing someone else, anyway. You remember Ben? Either way – he is single and not attached to me, so you no longer have to factor hurting or upsetting me into any of your life choices.”

She got up then and came around the table, her arms engulfing Peter into a tight hug. ��This is a lesson on when to keep secrets from me. I hope you learned that never is probably the best course of action,” she mumbled against the side of his head, Peter’s chest shaking with laughter before she let him go. And just like they were kids again, she slapped the back of his head hard, a cackle slipping from her lips. “Stop ignoring me, okay? Let’s be friends again.”

It took a few more minutes of banter back and forth for Peter to totally comprehend all the things May told him – he couldn’t get past the green light of acceptance; despite all the other juicy things he’d just been told. His mind immediately went to Tony, the thought of pulling his phone out and texting him flashing across his mind. Then, he realized just how much he missed May and put it on the back burner. If he were reading the room right the night before, he didn’t think Tony would be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Yeah, alright.” Peter said after a second, their eyes meeting. He could see nothing but clarity in those hazel eyes, a look he knew to be acceptance and contentment. It felt good to be able to read her again, the crippling guilt no longer between them. “I’m not going to the office today. Want to binge something on Netflix?”

Her lips pulled into a smile, the look in her eye mischievous – “Actually, I think we should find you something to wear to this,” she murmured, hands rummaging in her bag until an envelope came into view. Peter didn’t need to see the Stark Industries logo in the corner to know what she was referring to. The Stark Gala – the height of events for the engineering and technology society. It seemed kind of fitting, a reunion at one of these events after the shitty end to the last one.

A soft blush set in his cheeks then, a silent sort of understanding happening between them. This wasn’t just acceptance from May, but a push in the right direction, too. He took the envelope from her, then pulled her smaller frame into his arms. “Thanks, May.”

When they parted for the afternoon, May pulled him into another hug and wished him luck. The suit they picked out was going to look pretty damn good on him – even if it wasn’t one of the fancy custom-made ones. The whole time, it felt like being with May when they were younger, when there wasn’t a care in the world. Maybe that was because the trauma between them was officially over, or maybe May felt like she knew Peter a bit better. Whatever it was, Peter enjoyed the time thoroughly.

It felt like the first time since getting here that he wasn’t stressed or watching over his shoulder. Even though he enjoyed every single second of being back in the place that felt like home, there were so many things still trying to press him down and keep him there. The weight of his chain felt a few links shorter now. In hindsight, the simple truth would have been much easier than all the angst – but hey, that’s how lessons are learned.

There was just enough time to sneak in a nap – Peter grateful for that fact. They decided early into their conversation that the surprise of his presence would make much more of an impact than a text, so Peter kept control of himself and didn’t say a word to the other man. He could already picture the look on Tony’s face. With the rest of the night on his mind, Peter slept pretty peacefully – his body finally content with where things were headed for him.

Actually feeling refreshed upon waking up, Peter took his time getting dressed. The blue suit and light grey shirt combo looked great in the mirror at the store, the jacket fit his shoulders nicely and the slacks hugged the curve of his ass just right. With the addition of some product in his hair and a small white-gold chain around his neck, Peter looked ever better. It’d been a long time since he dressed up like this – he appreciated the view and hoped Tony would, too.

Peter splurged on the relatively expensive Uber into Manhattan, his conversation with Paula the driver helping to ease any nervousness that wanted to bubble up inside him. Surprisingly, though, there wasn’t much other than excitement coursing through him. No matter what happened, Peter felt a sense of freedom he didn’t before. If Tony decided the craziness they were able to build was what he wanted, Peter couldn’t wait to give himself completely to it. Finally.

It was pretty easy to slip out of the Uber and into the party without dealing with any of the press. They weren’t interested in someone like him. He gave his name and flashed the invitation to the man he remembered as Happy at the door – the exchange easy and over before he knew it. There were lots of people scattered around the upper floor of Stark Industries, the age range wide and varied and the dress much the same. Peter fit right into the people flitting around and used that as an advantage to scope out Tony.

Looking around, he felt a little disappointed when he didn’t see the man right off the bat. He decided to put the search on hold and get a drink when he felt a hand on his arm. “Hope you’re not leaving already.”

He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know who the hand belonged to – the ghost of Tony’s touch still haunted him on a pretty constant basis. A soft smile slipped across his lips, the other man’s presence did that to him – especially now that it didn’t come with the not so gentle pang of guilt. “No, not yet. I just now found what I was looking for.” Peter’s response was shift, said with confidence.

Tony tugged on his arm until they were facing each other, their chests almost pressing together. After so many years, it felt like the first time all over again – this dance they were doing. Their even height made it easy to catch amber colored eyes – the yellow tinted glasses Tony took to wearing enhanced the color of his eye, the depth of it so easy to get lost in.

“I’ve done my rounds for the night, come upstairs with me,” Tony mumbled, his voice just loud enough for Peter and Peter alone to hear. The warm caress of the liquid smokiness arousal always made Peter think of washed over him, his arms wrapping themselves around Tony’s neck. He pressed in for a kiss, the need unable to be denied. It stayed chaste for the sake of not being in public when things turned steamy.

“Lead the way, Tony,” Peter responded, his brain forcing his body to step away, to keep some space until he could have all of the other man. A work-roughened hand gripped his own, their fingers tangling – Tony led the way through the crowd seamlessly, his ability to fit in despite the sheer amount of attention he could attract was impressive. Probably learned from all the times he did his best to escape the charade over the years.

It was nice to see that some things never changed.

Once they were in the elevator, Tony didn’t hold back – this one led to his part of the penthouse, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “I’m guessing May talked to you and this is your way of saying that it’s okay to do this,” Tony babbled before grabbing his cheeks and pressing their lips together, the kiss hot and on the right side of desperate. Peter figured he didn’t need to verbally answer, he gripped Tony’s hips instead and kissed back, his tongue pressing forward to join the warmth in the luscious caverns in Tony’s mouth.

Forgoing the tie ended up being a good idea, Tony’s hands were everywhere as they kissed, the tips moving from Peter’s cheeks, down his chin, neck, and under the slight gap of his button up shirt. Each place he touched felt like molten lava, the stroke of his fingers branding his skin – every inch becoming Tony’s once again. Finally, the elevator doors broke open, the dark comfort of Tony’s home just a couple steps forward.

Peter broke away then, his chest heavy from too much carbon dioxide, breaths coming in pants. “It’s okay. I want you, Tony. All of you. Because I finally know how to give all of me, too.” He used the lapels of Tony’s jacket to seal their lips back together, his feet working on their own accord, the path back to Tony’s room still etched into the forefront of his brain. Aside from bumping into the wall a couple of times, Peter and Tony were in the bedroom in no time.

Nimble fingers started to work on Peter’s shirt, Tony’s eye wide with eagerness and heat – the pupils blown open, taking over that precious brown warmth. His gaze made Peter feel a little on display, his skin on fire – the seconds passing making him feel like he needed to crawl out of it. A soft sigh of relief left his lips when the cool air hit his skin, the scalding deliciousness of Tony’s touch all of the sudden bearable again.

Quickly getting in on the action, Peter worked on Tony’s bow tie, the knot coming undone without much effort. Tony tried to press in for a kiss, but Peter kept some distance between them. “I’m going to cum in my pants if you keep doing that. It’s been a while – let me see you,” Peter stammered, his words lazy, the blood meant for his brain traveling lower, instead. He got all of the buttons open without fault, a look of triumph on his face. Greedy hands pushed the suit jacket and shirt off in one go, Tony finally shirtless – skin on display.

His fingers skimmed across tight pecs and prickled nipples, down across each of Tony’s ribs, and along the seam of his abdominals. The trail of hair Peter remembered so fondly seemed a little thicker, the change one of the only signs of aging he could really see. His dress pants sat on slim hips, a v on either side guiding his eyes to the real treasure. He could see the bulge there, Tony’s length long and eager, exactly the way he liked to remember it.

The rest of their clothes came off in a fumble to get onto the bed, Peter’s back hitting the mattress without any fight, a sigh of delight slipping from his lips when Tony settled over him. The weight felt divine, the tangibility of being pressed down amping up the slow spread of arousal tenfold. “Fuck, you feel good,” Peter gasped against Tony’s shoulder. The man was caressing his flanks, fingers moving reverently, like devotion and memorization were the only options.

The ticklish feeling kept him from getting too close to the edge too fast – Tony’s touches driving him crazy in so many ways. His hips rolled up every now and then, the semi-constant friction just enough to stave off the intense itch that needed to be scratched. Peter did his best to memorize the way Tony’s hips felt against his own, how the sweat on his brow rolled down so very slowly, how even after so much time – this felt so goddamn right.

Throwing his arms around Tony’s neck, Peter pulled him down for a fierce kiss, feelings overwhelming him, the earnestness of the interaction so much – everything he wanted. Their lips met for a sloppy kiss, tongues tangling between them, the taste of Tony in his mouth just as exciting as the slip slide of their bodies together. Peter’s fingers roamed through Tony’s hair, the softness of it a nice contrast to the heat overtaking them both.

The need to breath forced them apart, Tony’s forehead leaning down, resting against Peter’s. “I’ve missed you, Pete. So much,” the other whispered, the words kissing his cheeks in a tender brush. His eyes were closed, but Peter could tell he was trying to hold back tears or emotion – or maybe both.

With both hands, he cupped Tony’s cheeks, the other lifting his head enough for them to be looking into each other’s eyes. “I missed you. I’m here now, though – not going anywhere, either,” Peter said softly. He hoped to convey how genuine the words were – that despite how big of a shit he’d been, there still might be a future. He didn’t deserve it – but fuck did he hope for it.

“I won’t let you,” Tony replied, his cheeks lifting into a wide smile. “Jarvis can find you, so don’t even think about it.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Peter’s palm, his nose nuzzling into the same spot. “Can I fuck you?” Tony murmured into the skin there, his eyes hot and hopeful. Peter could feel Tony’s cock against his flat belly – the length throbbing at just the mention of pressing into him. Peter grinned and used his grip on Tony to slip their lips together once again.

“Fuck, yes – please, Tony. I want you.”

Tony didn’t need any more prodding after that, he moved until he was on the bed next to Peter. “Turn over onto your side,” he mumbled, his hands pushing and tugging at Peter’s hips until he turned over. “I’m going to make you feel good, Petey – promise.”

Peter elongated his neck and let Tony pepper kisses against the skin there, the man’s hands still working over lean sides. He threw a hand behind himself and grabbed Tony’s hair, his fingers gripping to keep him as close as possible, so that the other man couldn’t pull away, even if he wanted to. A gasp left his mouth when Tony’s wandering hands wrapped around the front of his body and started to teasingly stroke his cock.

The pulls started off slow, like he was trying to orient himself with Peter again. His fingers were rough, a little bit more scarred than the last time Peter felt his touch – and yet, still completely perfect. The tip of his cock was already leaking, so the glide of Tony’s hand was delicious, the friction faultless. With the slightest of thrusts, Peter could feel the other’s cock against his ass. “Mm, you’re so fucking hard,” Peter babbled, his hands tightening in Tony’s hair.

“Fuck me, please. I want to be yours again.” He thrust his hips back and ground into Tony, if the words weren’t enough, he hoped the move would be.

Tony pulled his lips away from Peter’s neck to pant against it, a soft groan leaving his lips. “God, Pete – I, you’re too much,” he murmured, his hips thrusting forward again, his fingers tightening around Peter’s length. “I can’t wait to feel you.” He squeezed Peter again, then the fingers were gone – Tony’s hand now slipping down to slip between pert ass cheeks.

There were a few soft teases to Peter’s hole before Tony was pulling back – the mattress dipping with his weight. Peter immediately felt the cold of the room clinging to his back, the sweat there staring to dry. Absentmindedly, he let his hand trail down his chest – his fingers ghosting straight down his abs, the tips teasing along the sensitive skin there. His nerves were on fire and he couldn’t let that tingly sensation die down for a single second.

The warmth was back within a couple of minutes, Tony’s hand trailing down his side, the other tucking under Peter’s neck to keep him close. “Tuck this leg up a little,” Tony whispered, lips brushing against Peter’s ear. Complying quickly, he bent his leg – a moan leaving his lips when Tony’s finger filled the newly made space. The barely there touch had him clenching his eyes, mouth open wide. “Fuck!”

The snick of a lube cap opening pulled another sound from his chest, anticipation settling low in his belly, the heat there compounding with it, his cock dribbling a bit of precum at the thought of what was to come next. The first touch of the lube was cool on his skin – and immediately forgotten, the first press of Tony’s finger into him after so much time exquisite, painful, and just right – just enough to distract him.

He couldn’t help the constant stream of ‘Tony’ leaving his lips, each thrust of one, two, and then three fingers shredding ever sense of self and control and conscious thought. It was only Peter and Tony and the aching touches that could tear him apart and then delicately piece him back together. “I’m ready, Tony – I’m ready.” His words were desperate, as was the hand that shot behind him to get a nice grip on Tony’s hair again. “Please – “

“I’ve got you, Pete,” Tony said, his fingers pulling out, only to be replaced with the warm head of the other’s cock. Tony pressed his hips against his loosened hole and thrust forward slightly, just the tip slipping inside. Peter let his jaw drop in a silent moan. He felt Tony’s grunt against his neck before hearing it, the gust of breath sending goosebumps cascading across his skin.

Inch by inch, Peter felt himself relax and accept more of Tony – the stretch turning from a sheer burning sensation to delectable with every passing second. Then, Tony hooked an arm under his already tucked leg, the move opening him up further.

The last couple of inches were easier now, Peter’s hole exquisitely stretched and full – the press of Tony’s hips against his own the best part of all. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re clenched around me like if I pull out, you’ll never be whole again,” he babbled, hips pulling back ever so slightly.

Just like Tony said, Peter clenched down a little tighter around him, his heart rate picking up with the sweet ache of his hole stretching further. “Maybe I won’t be,” Peter responded, his eyes closing, Tony’s cock slipping almost all the way out of him, the head resting just past the ring of muscles. He already felt empty, the rightness of being filled missed dearly.

The teasing roll of his hips didn’t last, though – Peter clenched each time he tried to pull out and before long, Tony was panting heavily against his neck, the snap of his hips long and hard. “Harder, Tony – more,” Peter ground out, his jaw clenching with ever thrust in, the tip of Tony’s cock hitting his prostate dead on.

Leaning into Peter more heavily, Tony pressed his leg down until he was almost up on his knees, the weight pressing him fully into the mattress. “I’m so close. Touch yourself – “ Peter barely heard, Tony’s words spliced with pants and groans. He could feel the pulse of Tony’s cock inside of him, the harder and faster he moved, the more it seemed to thrum in time with their joint heartbeat.

It took a second for Peter to register the plea – he was creeping closer and closer to the edge, it felt hard to focus on anything. He complied, though, his fingers gripping tightly and stroking at the same pace as Tony’s thrusts. There was no holding back after that, the boiling heat in his stomach finally bubbling over – each spasm of his body drawing shot after shot of cum from his body. “Ah, Tony!”

He barely felt the hard bite against his shoulder blade, the world tilted on a different axis at the moment. The warmth of Tony finishing inside him kept him grounded, though – his hole tightening to keep him there, deep and exactly where he should be. Tony mumbled Peter’s name over and over again, his forehead coming to rest against the back of his neck.

It was a few minutes before Peter felt with it enough to move or talk or even feel his limbs. He felt Tony slip out and the delicious feeling of cum dripping from his hole – then he sunk into the mattress further, everything about him boneless. Tony’s weight pressed against him a moment later.

The room was quiet when Peter came down enough to turn a little, his arm reaching back to pet at Tony’s bare skin. “Let’s go shower – I’m gross,” Peter said softly, a chuckle leaving his lips when arms wrapped around his waist, Tony sink down into him a little further.

“Do we have to?” Tony whined, his nose brushing Peter’s ear, every breath he took ruffling the hair there.

“I need to,” Peter retorted, the man using his arms to push up a little, his leverage dislodging Tony from his back. “The way you had me pinned down, I came all over myself – I’m already a little itchy.” He moved until he could sit up – the cooling cum on his chest making him pull a face. Tony’s arm reached out to attempt to pull him down once more, but Peter avoided it – a soft smile on his face when he looked over his shoulder. “Come join me if you want.”

Luckily, not a lot had changed about the bathroom, the shower was a little bigger – but Jarvis was easy enough to access, the water starting without much of a hassle. Peter stepped under and let out a relieved grunt – the nerve endings of his skin still sensitive, the hot water just enough to ease that feeling a little. He stood there letting the water sleuth over him – the peace of it nice after such an adrenaline-fueled event.

The shower door opening a few minutes later didn’t surprise him – he simply relaxed into the arms that wrapped around his waist. “Will you stay?” Peter heard, his head tilting to the side to accommodate Tony’s head resting on his shoulder. “I just got you back, I don’t know if I can let you leave now.”

Pressing his head against Tony’s, Peter let his hands grab onto the ones around his waist – the grip tight. “I’ll stay. For as long as you’ll have me.”

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #au #au prompts #whenstarkerwillbecanon #fic #bobbie writes #my fics #ao3 #ao3 fan fiction #fan fics

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winterknight1087 · 5 years

Text

Painted Perfect Future

Summary: Virgil’s parents are homophobic meanies, especially his dad, but don’t worry. Virgil has three amazing boyfriends and there’s always Disney to distract him from his anxiety and past trauma.

Word Count: 6,023

Warnings: Anxiety attacks; hit and run; hospitalization; homophobic parent; self-esteem issues; implied/referenced suicide (but of an off-screen OC); injury; emotional/psychological abuse; alcohol mention; angst with a happy ending; failing a class mention; food; mention of kidnapping in a Disney movie; warnings sound worse than really is (but better safe than sorry!)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP with a dash of Moxiety, Prinxiety, and Analogical

AO3 Link My Writing

Well the Sanders Secret Santa has given all permission to reveal, so surprise @ironwoman359! I’m the weirdo who got to write your secret Santa! I hope you had a great winter holiday! 💜💜💜💜💜

“Oh! I want to go first! Can I go first? RoRo, pleeeease!” Patton begged, bouncing in his seat.

“Uuuuugh, fine,” Roman moaned. “I get to go next, then!”

“I have no quarrels with this. Virgil?” Lo asked, rolling his eyes at the two energetic men.

Virgil looked up from the gifts he was desperately clinging onto. “Huh? What?”

Pat gave the anxious figure a pouty look. “Do you have a problem with me first then RoRo? Unless you want to go first.”

“No, it’s fine Pat. I would like to go last, if that’s alright with you, Lo.”

Logan looked him over but answered. “It may relieve some of your anxiety if you hand your gifts out sooner, Virgil. There is very little chance you got any of us something we will not enjoy.”

“Don’t you mean… infinitesimal?” Patton giggled.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

Virgil winced, “Geez, L. I knew I was going to lose my hearing, but I figured it would be from those two, not you.”

“I-uh” he cleared his throat, hands automatically trying to adjust the fake tie on his sleep shirt. “I apologize, Virgil.”

“Also, I want to go last. I’m nervous about my gifts, but also, I’ve rationalized it out that if you all hate it, I can go hide in my room. Less awkwardness if it’s hated.”

Logan and Patton shared an uncertain look, which did not go unnoticed by the anxious one. They seemed to agree on something and let the decision stand. Patton started giggling again as he dove straight into the pile of gifts sitting beneath the Christmas tree. For a full minute, Virgil counted the seconds, all that could be seen of the man was the cat tail to his onesie.

****

5 Years Ago: Virgil and Logan’s freshmen dorm room

“Little Shadowling?”

You’re just a disappointment. You can’t even keep your grades up in the few classes you actually like. You have an F in Art 101! Who fails Art 101?!?

“Kiddo?”

They don’t care about you. Why should they? Who would be proud of an anxious mess like you?

“Verge, please answer me.”

Next thing you know, they’ll somehow find out that you’re gay. They’ll blame college for ‘turning you’ gay and force you to drop out. You’ll lose what little you’ve gained.

“Virgil, come on buddy. Breathe with me. There we go.”

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he’d been spiraling. What mattered was the warmth surrounding him and the steady rhythmic tapping on his back. At least, that was what mattered until he remembered that Logan was in class until much later. A lightning bolt might as well have struck him for how badly he jumped away, frantically throwing his hands out for anything that could work as a weapon.

“Whoa there, kiddo!” A familiar voice said. “It’s just your happy-pappy Patton!”

As Virgil’s mind finally started to work again, he saw Patton sitting next to him. Virgil looked down and saw that the vicious weapon he had sought turned out to be only a spare paint brush. He set it aside before awkwardly looking at Pat. The other seemed to understand and opened his arms, inviting Virgil into a hug.

“Do you want to talk about it, Virge?”

All Virgil could manage was a shake of his head.

“What about we watch a movie and I make us some yummy hot cocoa? You know what, I’m feeling dangerous, let’s eat the box of cookies I was saving! Does that sound good, my bestest mostest dynamicist duoist duo partner!”

Too many words so soon after an anxiety attack. “I… umm… Sure Pat. Whatever you want to watch.”

With Virgil’s agreement, Patton was off to work. He shocked the anxious one by easily picking him up and placing him in his bed. Next, he was peeking at what was already in the DVD player. He smiled seeing that Roman had been forcing Logan to watch Lilo and Stitch. That would work perfectly for his anxious little baby. With that, he threw some popcorn into the microwave and started working on their hot cocoa.

Virgil watched Pat move about for a moment before deciding that it would relieve some anxiety for him to also do something–anything. He climbed out of bed and started collecting all the spare blankets (and not so spare, though he doubted Logan would mind too much that he stole his bedding). By the time Patton was bringing the snacks and drinks over, Virgil’s bed was about two feet taller with Vee in the middle, making the pile into a sensible nest for them.

Pat and Virge cuddled through the movie. It was exactly what Virgil needed after what happened this afternoon. They joked and threw popcorn at meanie heads. When Lilo had told Stitch that he couldn’t have any more caffeine, Virgil couldn’t help but poke Patton.

“Hey, look! You’re on TV!”

“DOES THIS MEAN YOU ARE THE STITCH TO MY LILO!”

“Uhh… Sure?”

Unbeknownst to the two on the bed, Logan had walked in only to hear screeching about Ohana and family. He had already started to set his bag down, muscle memory doing so automatically. Yet, as the chemical engineering student managed to take everything in, he only blinked and scooped up the bag to leave once again. Though, the pictures he snagged of the two best friends would later prove he had seen the pair.

****

Present

“Here they are!” Patton’s voice yanked Virgil’s mind from that small dorm room. “Alright, here we go! One for LoLo! VeeVee! And RoRo!”

Each accepted their gift and waited for Patton to sit down. Each took their tern unwrapping the (miserably) wrapped gifts. Roman went first to find a prince costume PJ set. Princey screeched when he pulled out a stuffed animal horse. It took Virgil a moment to realize it was horse from Tangled. Mick? No… Maxwell? Max- yes, -well no. Maximillian? Closer, but still wrong. Oh Maximus, right. Maybe Virgil should re-watch Tangled if he couldn’t remember something as simple as the horse’s name.

“I LOVE THEM PATTON!”

Patton didn’t have a chance to respond before Roman was running into the closest room to change into his new PJs. Once he came back, he showed the three others the PJs from every angle, making sure his boyfriends got a good look at his muscles while doing so as well. Patton was giggling whereas Logan and Virgil were smirking at his antics, all three used to the dramatic prince.

Next was Logan. He took his time unwrapping the gift before pulling out his own set of items. He picked up a tie that listed different elements from the periodic table. Virgil was sure there had to be some sort of pun in the tie’s design, but he wasn’t well versed in… well, science in general. There was a groan from the tie-clad man which was proof enough for Virgil to know the pun existed. There were also socks, a galaxy pen, a ‘tears of my students’ mug, and even a mug warmer.

“While I loathe to finding a joke on the tie, I do enjoy these gifts. Thank you, Patton.”

“What’s the joke!” Roman squealed.

“Iodine. Lithium. Uranium. Vanadium. Cobalt. Fluorine. Iron”

“In English, Microsoft Nerd!”

Patton was giggling as he answered. “I luv coffe(e)! The symbols spell I luv coffee!”

Virgil was last. He ripped open the gift to find a giant blanket. It was designed just like his patch-work jacket and Virgil could have sworn that this was the softest thing to ever exist... alright, second softest as Patton was without a doubt the softest and sweetest. Patton was watching him worriedly as the anxious man ran his hand over the blanket. Without a word, Virgil swung the giant blanket around himself and just seemed to vanish into the mass of fluff, sending the other men in the room into a fit of laughter.

“Prepare yourselves, my beloved royalty!”

****

2 Years Ago: The shared apartment living room

“You fiend! Why do you besmirch the name of Disney every time we watch something!”

“Not my fault you started this marathon and it is definitely not my fault that you started the argument with Cinderella, claiming that you only need to believe in your dreams for them to come true instead of trying to actively attain them. Either stop screaming about arguable statements and put in The Lion King or sit here letting me ruin Disney for you.”

Roman grumbled but did get up from the couch to change DVD’s. It was a relatively calm evening in their apartment, at least it was for the two of them alone. Logan and Patton were at the library. Patton was with a study group and Logan, who didn’t want Patton coming home on his own, was studying on his own until the study group were done. That left Roman and Virgil with the apartment for the evening, and they’d used it to binge-watch Disney movies.

Riiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

“Tell the nerds to pick up pizza, Count Woelaf!” Roman called as Virgil automatically answered his phone.

“Did you really think I won’t find out! Virgil, the homosexual beast!”

With some strange sound escaping his throat, Virgil threw his phone across the living room as his body forgot how to breathe. He could hear a voice screaming his name and that only made breathing harder to achieve. His thoughts were spiraling and his world collapsing.

“Vee, please!”

They knew! They knew he was gay! He knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, but he had been so careful to keep that day from coming yet!

“Oh, what was it Logan said to do?”

How long did he have until everything changed? How long until what little love they had for him was gone?

“Virgil, can you… uhh… name five things you hear? No, see! Five things you can see?”

Some words spilled out of Virgil’s mouth, momentarily pausing the spiral before it came back. They are going to cut him off. Everyone would know by the end of the day. Whoever was trying to get him to list things would be gone just like them!

“Yikes, alright. Umm… Oh! Virgil, you have to agree with me now that Prince Charming kissing Snow White was sweet and an incredible moment, right?”

They knew, so some comment about a movie shouldn’t bother him right now! “No.”

“But it was a farewell kiss! What is more romantic than that!”

This doesn’t matter right now! “Consent! Not kissing dead people!”

Slowly, the bickering about Disney managed to knock Virgil out of his spiral. Roman looked desperate but also happy? Since when did Princey like hearing the dark side of Disney? Later, Virgil would admit that, though an unusual approach, Roman’s way did help him ground himself. Right now, though, they argued until Rafiki started to mess around with Simba.

“Wait, I didn’t realize Patton was in this movie.” Virgil offered as a weak joke.

“I can see PatDad as Rafiki. What about Lo-bot? Who do you think he’d be?”

“Zazu. And before you ask, you are a combination of Timon and Pumbaa”

Roman gave a huge, mock gasp. “Excuse me! Why would you not make me the King of Pride Rock!?”

“Because Mufasa is too kind and humble for you and honestly? I can see you 100% dressing in drag and doing the hula like Timon as a distraction. As it is, you did storm Pat and my history class dressed as Aladdin and started singing ‘I Can Show You the World’ to Pat all because Pat was having an off day. Then, when our professor became furious, you started belting out ‘Proud of Your Boy’–which I remind you again is from the musical not the original Disney film!”

“OK fine, what the that make you then?”

“Simba, of course. He ran from his problems, blamed himself for everything when it was really Scar’s fault, and randomly joined some bug-eating hippies in the jungle. Simba is me just as The Lion King is Hamlet.”

“You have gone too far! How dare you equate Timon and Pumbaa to hippies!”

“Really, that’s where you draw the line?

“Guess who brought home Chinese Take-Out!” a voice called as Lo and Pat appeared, bringing a couple of bags over to the coffee table.

Their appearance threw Roman into La La Land for a moment, but he promptly wailed out once he realized what they were having for dinner. “But pizzzzzzzzzzza!”

“What about pizza?” Logan asked as Roman promptly collected his share of food.

“Nooooooooooooooo! We forgot to call you!” Roman sounded like he was close to crying, though he was already raising a bite of rice to his mouth.

Patton giggled. “Sorry, we apparently didn’t get your telepathic message, RoRo. I did get you pot stickers though.”

An actual tear escaped the dramatic man’s face as he wailed. “I foooorgive yoooooooooooooooooooooooooou!”

****

Present

“Alright, Puffball first!”

Roman handed Patton a bag. Pat was wiggling with excitement as he opened the bag and pulled out the paper stuffing. Inside were four stuffed animals, each one dressed like each of them. A dog with its tongue sticking out had Pat’s glasses, light blue polo shirt and a little gray cardigan around its shoulders. A lion had a crown, prince costume, and even a fake little sword. A normal looking teddy bear had Logan’s black polo with a tie, glasses, and tiny watch. The final one was a kitten with a black hoodie and headphones.

“Press the kitten’s paw, Patty-Cake!”

Virgil was not amused to hear his own voice hissing come out of the kitten. Patton, on the other hand, absolutely loved it. Roman admitted that the others weren’t as convincing as the hiss, but Patton didn’t care; the four stuffed animals were in his arms and probably weren’t going to leave for the next several hours.

“OK, I’m actually proud of this one, Nerd.” He announced handing Logan a highly decorated box.

Logan opened it and made a small sound of appreciation at the books. “Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson. Thank you- “

“Look inside at the title pages, Lo!”

The man blinked but did as told. He froze after seeing the first one for a moment. Quickly, he checked the second one before just sitting there in shock. Roman was watching him in excitement.

“Well?”

“Did you really have Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson sign each other’s book?”

“What.”

Without another word, Logan showed the rest of the room the front page of the Tyson book where Bill Nye’s signature proudly sat. Roman looked like someone had slapped him with a fish. Virgil emerged from his blanket, laughing so hard, he didn’t even notice he’d emerged from his soft lair. Patton had a huge smile as soft giggles escaped from him.

“Regardless, I will enjoy reading these. Thank you, Roman. The signatures are also greatly appreciated.”

“Vee’s turn!” Pat called out.

Roman passed Virgil another bag, his mind running around in circles in disbelief of his mistake. Virgil accepted the bag and found a small wooden music box and a small metal container. Inside the container were extra tune things for the music box. The one already inside the music box was ‘Hakuna Matata,’ so Virgil had a suspicion that the other ones were also Disney.

Once again, he vanished into his giant blanket without a word, but the other three could hear the little music box playing from the blanket mound, with a soft voice singing along.

****

1 year ago: Their living room.

“Uhh… Virgil, might I have a word with you?”

Virgil paused the movie he was watching. “What’s up, L?”

Logan shifted uncertainly before clearing his throat. “I happened to have found a stack of unopened letters, addressed to you. They were almost covering an opened one in the trash.”

“They are in the trash for a reason, Logan. Throw them back.”

“I was merely wondering if you would like to talk…”

“If I wanted to talk about it, I would have said something. I’m dealing with it.”

Without letting Logan say another word, Virgil turned the movie back on. Logan tried to say something else but ultimately decided to shut his mouth and join Virgil on the couch. The tension between the two men slowly eased as Rapunzel celebrated with the villagers and stood up for herself to Gothel.

Logan cleared his throat, which instantly made Virgil go tense again. “What is that inconsequential game Roman and you insistently play? Which film character each of you are? If you would not mind, I would like to partake in this fatuous game for this film.”

Of all the things that had suddenly started racing through Virgil’s mind, this was not remotely what he expected. “Umm… Sure, Lo? Let’s hear your character study.”

“While I do not see simple correlations between the characters and the rest of us, I do see a lot of you in Rapunzel.”

“What, because I like hitting people with frying pans? I would have thought you’d say Patton for her. She is a bit too trusting of people and yet draws out the best in them. She even got a pub full of hardened criminals to sing about their dreams with her.”

Logan tilted his head, considering this. “That is in fact true, but she did not know any better. That puts her in stark contrast to Patton, who has at least admitted that he knows that they may be dangerous, but he gives the benefit of the doubt as some people just need kindness shown to them. No, I believe you are most like Rapunzel. Gothel has psychologically abused Rapunzel, presumably since kidnapping her, in a similar way to how they… I mean society has attempted to do towards you. If I am not mistaken, earlier in this film, she in essence has a break down whether she should have stayed within the tower or was right to leave. Has this not been a similar dilemma you have faced, having left your hometown?”

Virgil considered it for a moment. “Well…”

“Gothel has taught Rapunzel that she could be nothing and especially nothing more than what Gothel said she could be. Gothel is wrong though. Rapunzel is more than just her magic hair and has to leave to be able to full learn this.” Virgil could almost hear Logan’s mind piecing together movie points to what he really wanted to say to Virgil. “Yes, she could have been a bit naïve with her actions, not realizing any better due to Gothel’s strict hold over her views. Yet, that nativity in the end is what helps her realize the ways Gothel was an abusive parent because she came to see what kindness and what true love were supposed to feel like. She was miserable when she returned to the tower and could see through Gothel’s perfunctory love. Rapunzel had to learn to develop her own views and beliefs independent of her abusive adopted mother.”

Quietly, Virgil picked at his jacket, thinking over what Logan was saying. “I guess.”

“Well, I guess I concede and allow you to voice your view points on who is who.” Logan commented, his voice attempting to hold enthusiasm, but failing.

“Oh, that’s easy. Patton and I already assigned everyone years ago. Princey is Flynn Rider for the sole quote of ‘here comes the smolder’ along with essentially a pouty face. Patton agrees with you on me being Rapunzel. Something about him never being able to beat people up with anything, much less something as useful as a frying pan. Meanwhile, Patty-cake is Pascal, who does what he can to cheer Rapunzel on and threatens Flynn and Maximus when they are fighting. You are Maximus, dedicated to your work but also willing to bend the rules for a good reason.”

“Well then... I do not understand this film enough to refute those points, so I shall concede to your points. However, I will say this, about the letters, before leaving it alone. Please, if nothing else, do not leave us on read. We only wish to help you yeet your unwanted tea. We Stan you, Virgil. I hope you are woke to this.”

“Logan, I swear, if you have those note cards out and ever attempt to use that much slang in one sentence again…”

“I am merely only collecting receipts and flexing. Is this not how it goes?”

“Stooooooooooop” but the smile sitting on Virgil’s face showed Logan that he was doing something right on this comforting thing.

****

Present

“I suppose that it is now my turn.” Logan commented.

He moved and collected a neat stack of presents, wrapped in shimmering navy wrapping paper. Once Logan hand handed each of the boyfriends their present, he sat down. Virgil wasn’t sure how Logan even knew which gift was whose as there seemed to be no difference or name written on the package now in his lap compared to the others.

Pat was once again giggling as he tore open the gift. A book and kitchen apron were ripped out of the box by the squealing man. He announced the book title of some healthy-eating cookbook before unfolding the apron and giving out another squeal. He flipped the apron to show the words ‘Many have eaten here, few have died. Whichever it is tonight, I’ll see you on the flipside!’.

Once the excited man had finally calmed down, Roman destroyed the wrappings on his gift to reveal a nice suit and an additional envelope. Ro was confused as he opened the envelope before letting out a squeal that could have put up a decent fight with Patton’s squeals.

“TICKETS TO SEE HAMILTON! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THESE? WHEN IS IT? ARE WE ALL GOING?”

Logan chuckled. “One of my coworkers has a cousin who performs in Hamilton and they owed me for something at work. Unless you wish to take others with you, I had assumed it would be the four of us. I am sorry to say that you will have to wait a month as everything will be cheaper once the holidays are over.”

“A weekend getaway with my three amazing boyfriends to Broadway!” Roman screeched looking ready to shoot through the roof in excitement. "YAAAAS!"

“Ohhhh. What did you get, Vee?” Patton asked excitedly.

All eyes turned towards the wrapped-up man. He let out a laugh before opening his present. Inside were a set of headphones and a gift card. Virgil glanced at the gift card, pleased to see it was for his favorite art supplies store. The headphones were everything Virgil could have wished for and more. They were sound-canceling. They had a good sound frequency, sensitivity, and resistance, which were all important for sound. They were wireless but with an optional wired-in line. Virgil did not know where Logan found what was essentially the epitome of headphones, but Virgil found himself falling even more in love with the nerd.

“I love them, thank you, Lo.”

“Your turn, VeeVee!” Patton announced excitedly.

****

3 months ago: leaving a movie theater

“I cannot believe you, My Chemical Romance! You are already plotting with Specs to ruin the masterpiece we just saw!” Roman announced, turning his phone onto the two following him.

“We are not plotting, merely discussing the inconsistencies and flaws within the film, unlike you and Patton, who are discussing the adorable-ness of the animal companion to the princess.” Logan calmly answered.

“OK, not to intrude or anything, but PUPPY!” Patton screeched before yanking Roman after him as Pat ran across the street to pet the dog.

Roman’s arm waved his phone as he was dragged off to the dog. Virgil could only laugh at how the video he was recording would turn out, knowing full well what the Prince was attempting to do. Not that recording their discussion would prepare the Prince for all the darker messages Virgil had scribbled into a tiny notebook just to taunt him with during the movie.

“Well, the light has changed, so I guess we will have to wait to follow them.” Logan commented, simply.

“Guess we have a chance to continue our conversation without a nosey prince berating us for analyzing the movie. So, the princess: guilable victim or mastermind genius?”

Logan considered it. “Well, I would say somewhere in the middle, especially with Disney’s attempts to create more realistic characters.”

They talked while waiting for the light. Logan only paused as he stepped off the curb before continuing with his analysis. Virgil could tell that the nerd was only getting started and was excited to see how the Noble Prince Whines A Lot took it while they ate dinner. Yet, he wasn’t so excited that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings.

“LOGAN!” the scream was ripped from his lips as he shoved the nerd back towards the curl they had left.

Then, the world went dark.

Virgil awoke to a persistent beeping, sniffles, and the smell of alcohol. His eyes focused on a plain white ceiling as his memories slammed into him, much like that car. He shut his eyes for a moment, before opening them to find the source of the sniffles.

“’at?” his throat was scratchy but the man in the chair next to him wasn’t looking at him.

The sobbing man jumped as if shocked by electricity. “VIRGIL!”

“’at’s mah ‘ame.”

More sobs escaped the man as he threw himself onto Virgil, forgetting about the anxious man’s injuries, lines attached to him, or even Virgil’s need to breathe. Patton was a sobbing mess as he held onto Virgil, blabbering about everything and nothing all at once. Virgil was tempted to point out that he was the one hurt, but he knew that his boyfriends would have had to suffer seeing him hurt, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Patton, the nurses are becoming irate with you. Please keep it down or they’ll kick all of us out.” Logan’s voice came from somewhere to Virgil’s left.

“Uh… Padre, we’re all upset, but you shouldn’t be laying on top of Vee. Not if we want him to wake up.” Roman’s voice commented.

Another shock of electricity ran through Patton. “OH! I’m so so so sorry, VeeVee! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Pat…”

“‘m OK.” Virgil answered.

He heard something drop before Logan and Roman were now surrounding his bed, shock and hope on their faces. Virgil looked at each of them before offering a weak smile. Each went to work ensuring that he was alright and not in any drastic pain or anything like that. For his part, Virgil just continued smiling at them, knowing that he may hate their babying soon enough, but appreciating their concern and worry nonetheless.

Eventually, a police officer came to question him about what he remembered. The officer wound up having Logan and Roman go with him as they had more of the story than Virgil–who had been unconscious– and Patton–who had been absorbed by the dog until the hit and run was essentially over, only having looked up after Virgil had screamed Logan’s name.

Other than the officer, there was little other than the distractions from the three other men. Occasionally, a doctor or nurse would come by, but otherwise nothing else really happened. And that stayed true for three whole days. Virgil loved Lo, Pat, and Ro, but he was starting to need a small break, even from them.

For their part, the three boyfriends were just relieved Virgil was going to be alright. They’d barely slept or eaten since the accident. Logan was constantly in a near panic attack, knowing that Virgil had saved his life at the cost of bodily harm. Roman felt as though he had failed his Dark Prince. What good was a knight to his lover if he couldn’t keep his lover from harm? And Patton… Patton was just a wreck. He felt guilty as if he were the one to hit Virgil. So, if the three of them asked if Virgil needed anything every few minutes or asked if he was in pain or everything else they’ve been doing, while who could blame them?

A voice that had only appeared in Virgil’s nightmares for the past two years tore through the air when the four boyfriends were relaxing after the latest news that Virgil should be ready to head home soon. “Pity. You’re still alive.”

Virgil promptly curled in on himself once he registered the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to see for myself the damage done to the disgrace that became of my son.” The man commented. “By the way, did you know that your disgrace was the final straw for my wife? Couldn’t handle having something like you as a child, I suppose.”

The three uninjured boyfriends glanced at each other, the same message written on each of their faces: this is Virgil’s abusive father? Without a thought, each moved between the man and their fourth partner, not caring what relation this man was to Virgil. Virgil seemed to be terrified of him, and that was enough. Though being fair, Lo and Ro were already mentally planning the best ways to punish him for the abuse they knew of.

“How did you even know I was hurt?” Virgil’s voice suddenly demanded.

“Wait, it was you who drove straight into Virgil!” Logan’s voice was ice.

The man hummed before commenting. “I was looking to kill two disgraces in one hit, but we don’t get what we want, I guess.”

“I think this is a new one for me.”

The man spun around and slammed right into the officer. The officer was coming back to tell the injured man that there was some success in running a plate captured by mere coincidence by Roman. Yet, a confession in an open place? Works for them, the officer supposed.

“You are under arrest for attempted murder.” The officer clipped some handcuffs onto the man.

Once things were protocol-fulfilled, the officer grinned at the boyfriends. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a criminal gloating to his victim as I happen to be visiting with updates.”

The officer and the man were gone before Virgil had actually processed the timing miracle he had just witnessed. Maybe fate was finally throwing him a small sliver of a bone. He wasn’t going to question it. He wasn’t going to poke it with a fifty-foot stick. He would just accept this one thing and happily not look the gift horse in the mouth… Though Logan would definitely look into the literal meaning of that phrase and point out everything confusing and wrong with a confused look on his face. This mental image of a confused Logan with the other two giggling at his confusion was enough to shock Virgil back into himself and start to weakly laugh.

The three other boyfriends looked at him in a terrified confusion before joining in his weak laughter, believing that this was from relief that he would never be harmed again by his horrid parents rather than love of his partners.

Once he was released, the three boyfriends went to work on ‘Plan Take Care of VeeVee’. He wasn’t even allowed to go to the kitchen without one of them insistently helping or trying to take care of it for him. Like he expected, Virgil became tired of their babying of him, but it was alright.

Everything would be alright.

****

Present

Virgil gulped as he pulled the three gifts closer to his chest. “Before I hand them over, I would like to ask that you three open them at the same time, OK?”

Each nodded and accepted the gift he handed each. They instantly could tell their gift was on some sort of canvas, but other than that, they were unsure what each would be. Virgil didn’t sit back down in his spot but stood before the three of them. He was shaking but was not going to let his fear drag him down any longer.

“Alright, you can open them.”

Each opened their gifts to find a painting in them. Patton’s painting was an image of Lilo and Stitch performing a hula dance. The Ohana quote was decoratively hidden in the ocean waters as they danced. For Roman, it was a picture of Pride Rock with Simba letting out a roar while his friends stood behind him. Then, for Logan, it was a painting of the lanterns lifting into the sky, lanterns that held not the sun symbol but rather a brain with glasses.

Logan looked up to compliment the painting he had received when something on the back of Patton’s canvas caught his eye. “Patton, place your painting down, backside up! You too, Roman!”

The other two looked confused until they noticed the words carefully written on the back of each of them.

Patton’s: Will you

Roman’s: marry

Logan’s: me?

The three of them looked up to Virgil, who had sunk to one knee while they examined the paintings. He was holding a box open before them with four rings inside: a ring in each of their favorite colors. Virgil was trembling so bad, some small part in the back of his mind worried he was about to pass out, but he had to do this.

“I love all three of you more than I thought possible to love anyone. We’ve spent an amazing four years dating and I want to have more. So, will the three of you marry me?”

The room was silent for what felt like eternity before Roman let out a miserable wail. “Nooooooooo!”

Something in Virgil shattered but Roman was already on his feet. “Noooooooooooo! I can’t believe this! I was going to propose on Valentine’s Day! It was supposed to be the perfect proposal too! Dinner and flowers and everything. But you beat me! How could you do this to me, Virgil!”

Patton let out a small giggle. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ro, but if VeeVee hadn’t beaten you to it, I would have. I was planning on asking after dinner tonight, right before dessert.”

Logan fixed his glassed. “And I, at risk of appearing sentimental, had planned on asking at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“So,” Virgil’s voice was barely more than a scared whisper. “Is that actually a yes from you three?”

“Of course, my dashing and noble prince! Why would you have assumed otherwise!” Roman announced.

“Because the moment after I asked, you screamed no but then started ranting about something while I attempted to pull myself together in time to hear about Pat’s plans”

“Oh,” Princey went pale realizing that was not the time for dramatics. “Sorry, my Dark Prince, I did not mean that. Yes, of course I will marry you! It is a thousand yesses from me! Nay, a million! A billion! An infinitive amount of yesses!”

“The usage of yesses sounds incorrect but I cannot think of the proper plural for yes. In answer to your proposal, Virgil, I also say yes, though will refrain from the absurdity Roman is going on about.”

Rather than give an answer, Paton yanked Roman and Logan with him as he threw himself at Virgil. They collapsed into a giant cuddle pile as Patton started singsongingly screaming “We’re getting married! We’re getting married!”

Virgil could only smile and cuddle with his fiancés. Later, Roman would screech about hanging the paintings in proper order of the secret words on the back. Patton and Logan would both sheepishly bring out their own boxes of rings, making Roman wail about having not gotten them their rings yet. They would celebrate their engagement and begin planning wedding details and whatever else. They may not have been the family who gave Virgil life, but they were the family he chose, and he would probably admit it to them once Roman had put enough alcohol in him in celebration of their engagement. But, in this moment, Virgil just clung to the three men who showed him what love was.

#romantic lamp #moxiety #prinxiety #Analogical #tw abusive parent #tw food #tw hit an run #tw anxiety attack #angst with a happy ending #tw implied suicide of off-screen OC #tw homophobic parent #tw alcohol mention #Sage writes

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salembride · 4 years

Text

A Dark Stranger pt.2

Summary: Rose makes a new friend and tries to comfort Jack with his loss of Lucy and Zoe.

Warnings: a little language

Jackie held the door open for me then followed me into the lobby of the Jonathan Harker Foundation. He brought a small file folder that Zoe had given him and took it to the receptionist at the front desk. Another woman in a white lab coat came out to meet him and motioned for him to follow her into the other room. Jackie turned to me with a pressed on smile and held up a finger to signal that he would only be a minute to which a gave a small nod of agreement. A picture of the late Jonathan Harker on the far wall catches my attention, so I start to make my way toward it when I hear the receptionist call out, “Miss, um.. Seward?” Assuming she was referring to me, I looked in her direction and found I was correct.

“Blayr, actually.” I laugh now stepping in her direction.

“Oh! My apologise. I just knew that Dr. Seward had said you were his cousin.” Her face had turned a light shade of pink from embarrassment, but I waved it off and smile.

“No, no. It is a simple mistake. Our mother are sisters. Half-sisters to be exact. I’m Rose.” I reach my hand over the desk and she takes it in a quick, gentle handshake.

“Kelly Anderson. So, how long are you here in London.”

“Well, I’m actually looking for a place here, but Jac- John doesn’t know that yet. I was planning on telling him the other night, but he’s hard a rather rough week.” My smile fades a little as does hers. “Now I’m thinking I should wait and find a place before I tell him. Maybe the surprise will cheer him up.” Then she gets a bright smile.

“Hey! If your moving here, your going to need some friends outside of just Dr. Seward, especially if your planning on surprising him! I’d be glad to help you look around if you want.”

I’m to not let my nervousness show. I’ve never really been a big people person, and I never know how to behave around strangers, but Kelley seems nice enough. “That would be great. Thank you Kelly.”

“You’re welcome! Here’s my number! Oh, and here comes Dr. Seward.” I take the little piece of paper and put it into my purse. Maybe i just wont call, and if I see her again, I’ll just explain that I lost it. Is that bad? Yeah... probably. I don’t know; I’ll figure it out later. Right now it’s time to take care of Jackie.

“Ready?” Jackie offers his arm to me, and I wave ‘goodbye’ to Kelly. Once we get outside, Jackie asks, “So, you dating women now?” Then he chuckles at my confused expression. “Kelly is a lesbian,” he smirks.

“What? Oh no! I hope I didn’t give her the wrong idea. I don’t want to hurt her feelings! She just said that she thought I may want some friends here.” Jackie faces me and grabs both of my shoulders.

“Relax! I’m only giving you a hard time. I promise that Kelly will not be offended. Even if she is interested in you, she’ll understand. She’s really sweet.” I still feel really bad but decide to let it go. Jack and I continue our walk to a little bakery where we grab our breakfast and some hot coffee before heading to the park. We find a nice bench and watch some ducklings play in the lake, laughing when one puts its head underwater and the others swim around him in concern before he lifts his head dramatically causing water to splash the unsuspecting siblings. Mother duck swims closeby, looking for a small snack floating near the top of the water, but she is constantly checking up on her young ones. I can’t help but smile at the sight, and it’s good to hear Jack laugh quietly. I look at him and see a small, pained smile on his face with a hint of red near the corner of his mouth. I chuckle to myself again, grabbing my napkin and wiping it away.

“Jam.” I say showing him the napkin with the small red stain.

“Oh. Haha.” He rubbed his lips and chin as if he has thought of something and then tries to scrub something off his face... and I don’t think it’s jam. Then I realize.

“Are you thinking about Lucy?”

“Yes. I kissed her. Right before she died. I wanted to. I loved her, but I shouldn’t have.” He bowed his head defeated.

“Shouldn’t have loved her? Or shouldn’t have kissed her?” I question.

“Both.” I’m pretty sure it was more of a sigh then an actual word. “I’m sorry, Rose. I just- I don’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t understand how you feel because I’ve never lost a guy that I was in love with. You’re allowed to be confused and distressed. There would be something terribly wrong with you if you weren’t feeling these things. I just wish that there was something that I could say or do to help, but I know there isn’t. So, I feel pretty useless.”

“You’re not. You’re not useless. There is just so much about this whole situation that I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. There are so many secrets that would destroy so much. And you, oh you’d think I was crazy if I tried to tell you everything.” He put his head in his hands and shook it back and forth. “Ugh, it’s just so hard to keep all of this in. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I agreed to help the Foundation. I thought I knew, but I was clueless. For them, there is no feeling or emotion in any of this. It’s just study. Research. Zoe, she was the one who cared. I don’t know why, but she did. Her approach to it was different and unconventional, but she knew what she wanted out of this. She knew her goal and how much time she had to attain it. But, now, it’s worthless, and she and Lucy are both gone. It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard! I feel like it’s my fault. Like I should have stopped it, somehow.”

I sat quietly for a long time. I don’t really know what to say. I don’t even know what this “It” is. I know nothing about this classified research that Jackie was helping conducted. Nobody outside of JHF does. I wish I did. It might help me know what to say now. “Jack, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” We sat there for another long while in silence before deciding to head back. Jack walked me to the hotel and promised to call if he needed anything.

___________________________________

I ran upstairs to my room and when I pulled out my keys to unlock the door, a piece of paper fell out: Kelly’s number. I picked it up and walked inside; I sat my purse down and paced around the room. “Why not? Step outside of your comfort zone and make some friends. Maybe Jack was wrong, and Kelly wasn’t hitting on you. Maybe she really does just want to be your friend. Why are you talking to yourself? You know what? If you had friends you wouldn’t have to talk to yourself. God, what am I, schizophrenic? That’s it. I’m doing it!” I Picked up my phone and put her number into my contacts. I know she’s at work, but I’m sure she’ll answer when she can.

*Hey, Kelly! This is Rose, Jack’s cousin.* Okay, now i just have to wait for her to- nope there it is. That was fast.

*Rose! Hi! I wasn’t sure if you would actually contact me. I’, glad you did.*

*Haha, yeah. I wasn’t sure either, honestly. I guess I’m rather timid when it comes to people I don’t know. I don’t make friends very easy.*

*Girl, that’s okay. I understand. I’ll just make it my job to get you comfortable with people! Take you to a few parties. Introduce you to some nice boys. Really get you into the London scene.*

*Boys?*

*Well, yeah.... let me guess. Jack informed you that I’m a lesbian? Don’t worry. It was pretty obvious that you aren’t. But if you ever want to try anything, I’ll be glad to help you with your experiments. After all, I do work at a place that’s pretty devoted to science. ;)*

*Haha, oh wow. I’ll remember that for the future. Thank you.*

*Oh, god. I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I?”

*No, Kelly. You’re fine. I think I’m going to like being your friend.*

*GOOD! In that case, you should meet me for drinks tonight at the club. I may know of a place for you to live too, if you’re interested.*

*That sounds good. Yes!*

*Great! I’ll send you the address to the club later. And, Love, wear something stunning. XO*

*I’ll do my best. :)*

Oh no... I just agreed to meet her at a club. What does a girl wear to a club? Because “stunning” isn’t very detailed. I open my phone and google “What do women wear to the club in London.” YIKES! I definitely don’t own anything quite like that. I wouldn’t say that I’m an overtly modest dresser, but I’m very self conscious. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m not a jaw dropper/showstopper kind of girl either. I’ve still got a few hours but decide to go ahead and find a dress in my closet. I finally choose a little green dress with a black, lacy back. It’s not really a club kind of dress, but it’s probably the most stunning thing I brought with me. When I came to London, I wasn’t exactly expecting to go to a club. I’ll just wear my black heals and maybe that will bring it up to par.

Several hours pass and the sun is going down. I’ve donned my “club wear” though I feel kelly will disagree, and decided to leave my natural, curly, blonde hair alone. It actually looks decent for right now, and I’ve learned the hard way that on the rare occasion that your curly hair is nice to you, you should be nice to it in return or it will enact its revenge by frizzing so bad that I look like one of those red-seeded dandelions before the wind blows. That’s always a disaster. I jump into the cab waiting for me outside and give him the address of the club. When we arrive, Kelly is outside waiting for me, and I can tell she is amused when I step out.

“Honey, we are going shopping tomorrow to get you some more clothes.” She states rather matter-of-factly.

“Hey! I have better clothes back in the States, I just didn’t bring them because I didn’t know I’d be coming to a club.”

“Well, they aren’t doing you any good there. Besides you’re moving here, and it’ll will be a while before you get all of your stuff.” She laughs linking our arms as we enter the club.

“Wow! It’s really loud in here!” I feel like I’m screaming.

“Yeah! Welcome to a club! There’s some cute boys! Let’s get you some free drinks!”

And I’m not gonna lie, I don’t remember much else about last night. The next thing I remember is waking up, here in a bed that is certainly not mine from the hotel. Oh shit! I didn’t! No, I’ve still got my dress and everything else on from last night. Whew. Suddenly, the overhead light turns on, and I cower under the blankets as my head starts to throb. I’m going to be sick, I can feel it.

“Good morning, lightweight.” I hear Kelly’s voice say with a bit of laughter laced through it. “I’ve brought you to medication for your head. I can imagine you need it. The door off to your right is a bathroom. You’ll probably feel better if you take a nice shower.” I nod in agreement and an hour later emerge from the bedroom with my damp hair and eyes still squinting against the sun. “Ah! She survived! How’s your head?”

“Well, it was doing better before you announced my survival to all of England.” I rub my temples and close my eyes.

“Oh, sorry about that, love.” She says in hushed tones now. “I’m just very excited to talk to you about where you should live.”

“Yeah, I’m excited to her what you’ve got for me.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you could live here with me. The room you stayed in last night was my old roommate lived, but since she moved out it’s been a guest room, and rent is kind of high by myself. If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Really?” I ask with a smile and Kelly nods, her smile matching mine. “Then, yes! Thank you!” We hugged each other and she looked down at me.

“We are definitely buying you some new clothes though!” We spent the next thirty minutes laughing like teenagers; I even forgot that my headache when Kelly got a text message. Her eyes went wide. “I’ve got to change and got into work. Something has come up. Feel free to do what you want in the house; it’s yours now too. I’ve already pulled the spare key for you, so you won’t be stuck her all day. It’s just there on the table. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it’s an emergency.” She said while running around like a mad woman gathering her things.

“That’s alright. Thank you!” I just decided I would text Jackie to see if he could help me move out of the hotel room, but I quickly responded that he couldn’t because of an emergency at JHF. Probably the same emergency Kelly was running in for. What could possibly have them in such a frenzy? That’s when I noticed Kelly had left her phone open. It was a message from the Foundation. How could three simple words spark so much panic in both her and Jackie. All the message said was.

*He’s here. Alive.*

#dracula2020 #dracula #johnseward #vampire #claes bang #lucy westenra #jonathan harker #zoe van helsing #bloodsucker #chapter2 #fanfiction #eventual smut #claes bang is daddy

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sugar-petals · 6 years

Text

BTS: They Insist You’re Beautiful

❖ angst, fluff, hurt & comfort ❖ warnings: self-esteem issues, dieting, body dysmorphia, feels

⟼ Jimin

Even at the risk of embarrassment and making it worse, the shower of compliments will never cease once he senses your self-doubt. What drives Jimin is his own second-guessing that will haunt him all too frequently, be it through weight gain or just an outfit that won’t look right because “I’m ugly. No matter what I do”. Even after years of trying to fight it, those voices remain. It’s a continuous process that never really ends, which is the hardest part. He would never want to see someone else experience this feeling, not even the tiniest fraction. That’s the reason why he moves heaven and earth and won’t give up convincing you. All too soon, he realizes it’s equally difficult as his own journey because a person cannot be persuaded when there is not a spark of belief already. He has to appeal to your moral sense first and foremost and ask whether it really is so good and healthy to dislike yourself so much. You only got one life. Jimin affirms that when you find flattering things about yourself, that makes his heart beam with endless pride, even if it’s just a detail. Be it your fingers, your lashes, your legs, your smile, your hair, anything. If need be, Jimin will sit down and rack his creative brain to rewrite “Eyes Nose Lips” by Taeyang into something that mentions these aspects only to bring that song to you in a heart-wrenching delivery, dance included. You’ll have something to remember, then, each time you doubt yourself.

⟼ Tae

So perplexed, so lost. Oh, what have you said. Is it true, do you really mean it? Taehyung does not really believe it is a joke, he can tell by your tone, but he hopes in vain, he truly does. “I’m not beautiful enough” is something so harsh to say. There has to be time for himself to wrap his head around the problem because every hug and cuddle with you doesn’t seem to shoo away the heavy words you use against yourself. An idea is the only thing he can cling to, and he’ll make it reality with his old camera. Not the one he’s currently using, the other one that’s been halfway forgotten by now. There are still countless unused negatives from last summer when there was a confident phase, a time when you would not hold yourself to a standard but instead felt carefree and preoccupied, too busy to mind your body, and happy to be on vacation with him. The pictures are casual and seem so far away. In an obsessive bout, Taehyung will glue it all together seemingly at random, but from the chaos emerges the image of your face as a giant collage. There’s pictures forming ears, forehead, cheeks, eyes, everything. Taehyung signs it without further words but a purple heart at the bottom right corner, and gifts it to you when you least expect it. What he has created may be difficult to understand at first, but later you get why he put all these images together. It means that every part of you is important for your identity to be content in life, and vice versa, that each content moment constitutes your beauty and not the sad times.

⟼ Jin

Especially with Jin, hating yourself and finding flaws to tear yourself apart about is more than a capital offense. Daresay you’re worthless and not quite the eye candy everyone else thinks you are, he’s gonna be so up in arms like the Queen of England when she’s in her “not amused” kind of mood. But still, his reaction is not as you had expected when you nitpick your outfit for the tenth time. You anticipated him trying to persuade you otherwise by all means. Instead, he sits down with you to talk it out with a cup of tea and a not-so-tense atmosphere even if the topic is a fairly important one. Self-worth and dating Jin, that interlinks, it’s a big deal. What he’ll do is empathize and tell you when he felt the same. Which you vehemently deny, how could he put himself down like that so much, what a shame! He’s Jin! “See... and this is what I thought when you called yourself ugly.” You’re quite taken aback and need some time to process it. That’s a shocker. And maybe even reassuring if it didn’t hurt so much knowing you let yourself down. It’s not about you being eye candy for others or yourself in the first place. It’s about how much value you realize you have. Heck, there are legislations on this earth whose first law describes how untouchable human dignity and worth is. Jin won’t let your melodramatic ass break the law like a bandit in the bank of self-love and legit get away with the self-hate money. That, in the house of Kim, is illegal.

⟼ Yoongi

It’s more than hard to bear for him. If he could manage that, there would be no mirrors in your home or the entire path you walk in a day. Not a single one. Yoongi would paint, veil, remove, shatter all of them just to prevent you from sizing yourself up and starting to scrutinize every time, be it in gaze — you thought he couldn’t tell? he knows how it is — or in words. Especially that glance he is all too familiar with is something that he can’t handle. When you look down at your body to find things you would want to remove or replace. You wish you could be someone else entirely that by now you cannot measure up to, so it’s tough to be stuck in this inferior body, like a prison with no windows and regular food. There’s nothing more hurtful than to see a loved one fall apart when they compare and criticize themselves into a state where it’s not even sad anymore, just dull and a bottomless pit of feeling completely devoid of hope. To the point where your daily life feels that way, too. He will NEVER permit that you will feel emprisoned like this. There is always hope and he will rap and write it out for you until you realize that he appreciates you for everything you are, including each inch of surface no matter how tortured or deprecated or shamed or rejected it may be. Yoongi will reassure you that there’s no need to look a certain way. Who is he to judge. He doesn’t own you. And he didn’t want to get to know you because you were somebody else, or wanted to be that elusive role model in the first place.

⟼ Hoseok

“Oh... come on now, you didn’t see yourself, did you?” Disparaged as your body feels to you, you will not see how much effort he puts into demonstrating that he really accepts you without condition. The conviction that a boyfriend must stick up and really state the case makes Hoseok really want to encourage you to the best of his abilities. Hell, even if he cannot fully eradicate the put-downs he sees in your eyes when you look at yourself or take a picture and delete it right away, or when you throw on layers and layers of makeup because you can’t stand your skin and the shape of your eyelids and the way your eyebrows curve, and spots here and there and everywhere. It’s a fight. Hoseok has to admit that he himself loves makeup to correct and hide things, and not to amplify and ‘highlight’ features like the stylists say with their practiced smiles. It is, after all, a mask, made up. Before he can support you, first he realizes that he has to work on and examine his own values and shortcomings so he can give you the right kind of attention in return, without an all too easy hipocrisy and condescension, something that really makes your heart full of love. That he tries to change himself so heavily and put on ridiculous clothes to get a reaction from others serves as a warning to him. Hoseok knows how the opinions of others can puppeteer someone. He’ll make you get that you can believe him, that he sees you as beautiful and even if he didn’t, that is what you are. Doesn’t he look at you more genuinely and adoringly when you wipe off the foundation and eye shadow?

⟼ Namjoon

You’re down. On the sofa, trying to get some distraction online. But even there, each perfect image of a girl that pops up on your feed is a reminder. Instagram is not a supportive place to truly feel better about yourself. He does what he can do best. He’ll reason it through for you start to finish on a global scale. Women’s most demeaning role had always been to be looked at, not as a person of action, but groomed visual value on two legs for the last 5,000 years. It wasn’t good, but that was how she attained her legitimacy in the eyes of men who would reduce her to a shell without the power to define herself, even viciously competing with other women for approval while men straight-up walked around with the beauty routine of the Grinch getting away with it. Who were you to break out of that cycle when an entire culture was so deeply entrenched with this dynamic, still, entire industries run by wealthy men capitalizing on an ideal so deliberately unachieveable. Namjoon wouldn’t dare to see himself exempt from it. He, too was raised this way. What he promised you instead was to understand it, and resist it, even if chances of winning were so small. The only hope was that you would be more in his eyes. He tries to see further, he says, and that comforts. Instagram needs to slow the hell down. Namjoon doesn’t want to measure you against someone else and make you feel pressure to be a certain way just to be pleased by your looks.

⟼ Jungkook

“Maybe I’m average. Just not pretty. And skinny, and—” That just won’t get into his head no matter how hard he tries. How could you not think you’re beautiful given that he chose you. To spend time with, to play games and bicker, to enjoy tasty food whenever. Even if it was just some ramen to slurp away at with too much spice in it and fewer noodles than the packaging had promised. You were the person whose ginormous backpack JK would always offer to carry for a mile even if his own was 33 lbs heavy already, just so your injured shoulder won’t act up again after the bike accident last year. In his gym logic, especially since your shoulder muscles are good-looking and deserve this rest (that’s how he thinks don’t look at me strange okay). How could you not see it? Jungkook thought it to be a hopeless cause even singing cheesy songs at karaoke could not fix. So the last resort it has to be and that is cooking you buckets of kimchi and noodles and fried rice and vegetables and dumplings and a gold-encrusted, sparkling rice cake dessert. That good stuff. Jin even drops by to give him some ingredients. You won’t go to bed hungry and moody with that diet bs. He’ll make sure that next day you literally have to roll out of bed because the meal was so good and ample, forget skeleton skinny, you eat your pancakes and Japchae as prepared by chef JK and don’t look back because love very well starts in the stomach. Yes, and indeed: Self-love, too.

[masterlist]

#bts scenarios #bts reactions #bangtan fluff #bts fluff #bangtan angst #bts angst #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts imagines #bts as boyfriends #sub!bts #bts hurt and comfort #x reader #hurt and comfort #bts #bangtan

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my-little-dumpster-fire · 6 years

Text

Let it Burn. 6/?

Catch Up Here

P A R T S I X

You knew from the beginning that not all soulmates date, not all marry, not all have romantic feelings of any sort. It was a common misconception, but one you were extremely familiar with as it became increasingly obvious that Billy Russo did not want a soulmate, even upon meeting and spending ample time with his own. Though after getting to know Billy, really getting to know Billy, you’d be a little disappointed if he let your existence change anything about him. He was unabashedly Billy and you respected that, hell...you loved that. There were many parts of Billy that you loved, though you couldn’t tell him.

There were still parts of him that he kept to himself, everyone did that, but Billy had perfected the art of storytelling, of drawing people in, sharing just enough of himself to foster a connection, make him seem vulnerable...attainable...human. The first time he opened up about his experience in the group home, you watched intently as his face morphed itself into the picture perfect survivor. Pregnant pauses, twitching fingers practically daring you to hold onto them, expertly furrowed brows paired with exasperated head shaking, did anyone notice when he held his breath just a hair too long, making his voice quake at just the moment his captive audience would start to choke up? His black eyes flit to yours rhythmically, waiting for the “oh Billy,” the “you poor thing,” the “thank you for trusting me with this.” When no such sentiment came, Billy’s dark gaze found yours and a suspicious eyebrow sat perched high on his face. He didn’t speak and neither did you, both waiting for the other to say what was becoming obvious to you both. You saw Billy. You saw through Billy. And as intrigued as you were by his annoyance at that fact, you couldn’t help, but be terrified. It wasn't something that you were often reminded of, but the fact remained that you weren’t simply Billy’s soulmate. He was also yours and you waited on bated breath for him to see through you, uncertain what a man like Billy would do with what he found, soul connection or not. But months later, you remained just as much a mystery to Billy. This frustrated him almost as much as his unintentional transparency. He prided himself on being able to read people and handle a room as smoothly as he handled his Wraith through darkened streets. But where your connection aided you in seeing Billy, it inexplicably clouded his ever reliable eye for these things. Maybe it was the mystery that inspired the wide berth between you two. Though the space he created, no, demanded, was slowly, but surely closing.

One night, one of your favorite nights, at the bar you often teased Billy for enjoying so much-

“I bet you bring all the girls here,” you wiggled your eyebrows theatrically while taking a long sip from the green glass bottle.

“I don’t bring anyone here,” he assured you with his own devilish grin, licking his lips before drawing from his own beer. Against your better judgment, you trusted Billy and watching the way he moved around you, interacted freely with his surroundings, you knew it to be true. No one else gets to see this.

-the two of you stumbled back onto the sidewalk, Billy’s arm tightly wound around your shoulders, pulling your chest to his as you awkwardly side shuffled toward the curb to wait for the car Billy ordered a few minutes ago. He swayed and you shifted your weight back and forth between your feet to follow his movements. He wasn’t drunk. Billy didn’t like the feeling, he didn’t like not being in control, especially of himself. This closeness wasn’t fueled by the beers he’d allowed himself, but still it was intoxicating to you. It was unwise to push him, but you had the rare opportunity to be held by Billy Russo and you’d be crazy not to take it. You rested your face against the strong chest and wrapped one of your arms around his back, to which he responded in kind, leaving one arm free to dangle at his side while the other squeezed your shoulder, communicating something that a more hopeful person would label affection. It didn’t matter how fleeting these moments were, something about being tucked under Billy’s arm felt undeniably like home.

“You shitfuck,” a woman’s voice hissed loudly and venomously. The words were barely coherent, but the volume and the subsequent clattering of an alleyway stumble was enough for you to peel your face from the warmth of Billy’s chest. He turned with you, just in time to watch a convenient store owner yelling obscenities at a body, cowering away from him.

Clearly without thinking, you rushed over toward her, selfishly almost stopping when you felt Billy’s hand fall from your shoulder, down your arm to grasp at your hand. Another moment and his hand in yours would have stopped time, but you were already on the move and Billy followed at a safe distance, reminding you quietly that the car would be there any minute. When you glanced back at him, you realized that he wasn’t looking at the woman on the ground at all. He was looking at you. Looking out for you, a slightly impressed quirk to his mouth that was otherwise straight, tight, and every bit the Lieutenant you knew he couldn’t quite let go of.

The woman was rasping something so inaudible that only you could hear her efforts while the man behind you tossed wasted accusations into the alley like the rest of his refuse. “She’s high!” He bellowed, a thick accent echoing off the walls around you.

“She’s hungry!” You hollered back. “You can only do something about one of those facts, so why don’t you focus on that!” The woman tried to stand, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange, but your firm hand on her shoulder kept her down easily. Too easily. She’s wasting away out here. You turned to Billy and silently pleaded with him to do something. His eyebrow shot up skeptically and he glanced over at the dirty yellow awning over the thick tempered glass of the store front. You reached into your jacket and produced a twenty dollar bill and held it out for him. “Something,” you shrugged. “Water, jerky?” You glanced back at the woman’s gaunt face and winced. Maybe something softer. “Cheese?”

Billy considered your request for a long moment, still not looking at the woman, and nodded, waving away your offer of cash and moving toward the store front, pushing the fuming owner back inside with an authority that made you thankful to have Billy on your side. Even barely. You smiled to yourself as you turned back to the woman, getting your first real look at her. He’s not doing this for her, if I hadn’t asked... It was a ridiculous thing to feel proud of and you focused back on the task at hand. You pulled out your phone and sighed. No one reputable was going to answer at the late hour. The closest shelter was too far. Your clinic was close but-

“Thank you,” the woman croaked, her accent was barely placeable in her voice’s weakness, but she was clearly from New York. She squeezed your wrist gratefully with a frail hand. Too frail for her age. Her hair was stringy, cheeks hollow, chapped lips were tinged blue, and eyes so dark and sunken you could practically see the years of regret she carried behind them. What have you gotten yourself into? You sighed and positioned yourself behind her, starting with lift without the vaguest idea what you’d do next. Standing would be difficult, but it’d be better than laying with the trash. She clung to you with all her strength, but still almost tumbled back to the ground in a dirty heap.

Billy appeared just in time, dropping a small black plastic bag to the ground to catch her other side before diving face first and taking you with her. You grinned and winked appreciatively at him over the narrow shoulders between you and he returned an exaggerated eye roll, working hard to conceal his own slight smirk. It couldn’t have been the first nearly lifeless body he’d helped pull from the trenches, but the look on his face told you he thought those days were over. Definitely not how he expected the night to, but his willingness to jump in and help you with your little project was so appreciated, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Hey,” the woman turned her face up to look at Billy and he pulled his eyes with great effort from your face to meet her as she tried to thank him. Without warning, the weight on your left shoulder dropped and you stumbled forward, trying and failing to catch the woman before she collided with the pavement.

“Billy!” You called out in frustration as he dropped the woman and consequently sent your knees to the sidewalk. “Are you okay?” You asked, but the woman’s response was only a sob that dissolved into a coughing fit. “Billy! What’s-“

“Let go of her,” he ordered and you whipped your head around so fast you nearly lost your balance again. The way he said your name sent chills down your spine. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard from him, harsh and acidic and damn near mean enough to make you forget that before you decided to be a Good Samaritan he’d been holding you close. “Goddammit, drop her!” He demanded and you grit your teeth.

“What are you doing?” You asked, unable to hoist the dead weight from the ground. She wasn’t even trying now, giving up hope the moment Billy released her and let her fall. “Billy, talk to me!”

The car he’d ordered pulled up just then. The perfect time for his grand escape and the most inconvenient for your attempts to question him. “Let’s go,” he said, giving you one last chance to listen to him. If you got into the car, you might get a story out of him, get whatever had spooked him into the light. But if you got into the car, perpetuated Billy’s ability to call all the shots in your...whatever you had, you’d have to admit that you’d officially fallen too hard too quickly and would surely be in for a lifetime of pain, if he’d have you for that long. He said your name again, some of the bitterness slipping away. He wouldn’t plead, wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t even rightly ask you again, but you didn’t have it in you to drop the woman the same way he had. He waited. Longer than you’d expected him to wait for you. It killed you not to choose him, knowing that’s exactly how he’d read it. You chose a stranger over him and you had no idea if or when he’d forgive you for it, despite his outburst making no sense to you.

You watched Billy duck into the car without another word, leaving you on the darkened street with a woman whose clothes smelled distinctly of smoke and urine. Unsure what else to do, you called a friend from work, desperate for any assistance now that you’d spoiled your evening with Billy, you were stubbornly committed to seeing the act of kindness through.

Once safely in the clinic, talking to some of the third shift staff and trying your best to go through intake for the woman dead asleep next to you. A nurse came by with a wheel chair, ready to escort the woman somewhere better suited for recovery, when you caught sight of white plastic dangling from one of her flimsy wrists. That’s a hospital bracelet. Assuming her to be a frequent flyer, you pulled back a soggy sleeve to reveal the information you’d been floundering without. You twisted the bracelet until you could read it clearly.

“She was just discharged...” you said to the nurse trying to wake her. “She’s 56...” you quickly scribbled her date of birth onto the clipboard in your lap. “Name...Russo, Carla...” you added her name to the form as the woman was wheeled away. Once she was out of sight and you were pushing the clipboard across the counter, the realization started to hit you in waves. Billy’s visceral reaction. The way he talked about his family.

No, I don’t have any family worth remembering.

I'm not exactly sure where I was born. But the way that I see it, even if your meth-head mother safe-havens you at a fire station in Albany, you're still born in the greatest country in the world.

Goddammit, drop her!

That name. Carla Russo.

“Oh shit.”

@something-tofightfor @actuallyazriel @cerezahowl @iaintnofurry

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x reader imagine #billy x reader imagine #billy russo x reader fanfiction #let it burn #billy russo soulmates au #soulmate tattoo #soulmate au #pre punisher s1 #yikes #yikes yikes yikes #big yikes

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lowat-golden-tower · 6 years

Note

I sent one like this to another but now I want your take with my other favourite ship! So here we go- Roman is smitten with his flatmate Virgil so he tries to summon a demon at the crossroads to make a deal so Virgil will fall in love with him. But the demon that's summoned ends up being his flatmate and hoo boy this is awkward!

(I saw the other prompt you sent to @secretglittersauce and specifically didn’t read it so as not to be influenced. XD Too bad you specified Virgil as the demon, I was leaning more towards Roman for shits and giggles… but now you get Southern!Roman, so there’s that. :D

This took me like fifty years, and wound up way too long, but I hope you enjoy it @fangirltothefullest! I might do one with demon!Patton and Logan as a follow up, if you’re interested?)

Honestly, Roman wasn’t entirely sure this would work. According to folklore, one could summon a demon at a crossroads to broker a supernatural deal. It was a legend spinning around the South for decades, sung in the Blues and whispered between old men in rocking chairs on front porches and store stoops. Hell, Roman had heard it from his own next door neighbor as a mere child. The man, a retired musician and one of young Roman’s many inspirations, used to tell all kinds of stories and fables. Really, it became evident in Roman’s later years that he’d just wanted someone to talk to, or listen.One of those tales had been about the crossroads, and his own experiences with chatting up a demon for a foothold in the music business. Roman had been positively dazzled, though his mother had warned him not to believe in such “nonsense.” She especially warned him not to go wandering about intersections in search of some monster or spirit; that he could pave his own path to his desires.

He really never gave her enough credit. Her advice had pushed him through to adulthood, to where he was now, just the star attraction at the local theater but soon, soon Broadway would be knocking. No, it wasn’t furthering his career that brought him to the crossroads.

Skin white as snow. Hair the color of roasted chestnuts, but fluffy as a newborn chick. Lips that were always chapped because their owner wouldn’t stop chewing on them, pulling them between his teeth and oh, how many times Roman had envisioned his own lips being there instead-

He, may have had a… small thing, for his… roommate. They hadn’t known each other for exceptionally long, but already Roman simply knew they were meant to be. Putting out that ad for a roommate had been the best decision of his life, besides auditioning for his first theater role. They’d hit it off like oil in hot grease, gunpowder and flame, shoving aluminum foil in a microwave and watching the sparks fly. The phrase “opposites attract” had never been more appropriate and Roman knew, he just knew, Virgil must have felt the same. It was a gut instinct, intuition, a feeling in his very bones.Yet, strangely, no matter how hard he tried the man was positively infallible to his advances. Roman liked to think of himself as a romantic; truly the cream of the crop in the flirtatious crowd. He was young and handsome with a smile that gleamed and a voice smooth as silk on the skin. Men and women alike swooned at the mere sight of him. Heartfelt serenades had left more than one romantic prospect weak in the knees.Not Virgil. No pickup line, affectionate gesture, thoughtful song or bold action would sway his roommate. There was the banter, of course, the core and life blood of their relationship, but the mutuality of the spark ended there. Virgil either shrugged off his efforts or outright turned his back on Roman, avoiding it all in the same stubborn manner he’d avoid a proper sleep schedule. It was infuriating at first, but as the weeks went by with zero progress, Roman felt himself growing more and more disheartened. He was desperate.

Which brought him to the crossroads.

Of course, it wasn’t all so simple as wandering to the nearest intersection. No, Roman had to do a little research, and tried to recall details from the story he’d been told as a child. This was going to be quite the grim undertaking, but Virgil was worth it. Roman would do anything to at last break through that gloomy shell and harbor his roommate’s subtle affections.

First, he needed a dirt crossroads. That would be a slight drive to the countryside, but nothing beyond his abilities. Next, he needed a photo of himself- again, hardly a problem. Roman took enough pictures and selfies for ten people. The other two “offerings,” however, were the real test of his mettle. Dirt from a graveyard; morbid, and he’d nearly gotten caught, but luck was on his side. Who knew having a historic graveyard just a few blocks from his residence would be a good thing? The last was the worst. He couldn’t even comprehend why this particular ritual piece would be necessary.

A bone from a black cat.

Roman didn’t like to think about how he’d obtained that one. He hadn’t killed any animals, obviously, thank god. But the alternative wasn’t much more desirable. Still, at the end of the day, he’d claimed his prize and was ready for the event itself.

He wasn’t nervous.

That’s what he told himself, as he shut the items away in a box and pulled the shovel from his car. He kept the mantra up as he found the exact center of the dirt crossroads and dug a shallow hole. Were it not just before midnight, he might have gotten in trouble for this. Thankfully, there wasn’t a residence in sight for at least a mile, and only one lone street light illuminated his desecration.

In went the box. That wasn’t his anxiety spiking, it was adrenaline. This was a big power move. How many people summoned a demon to attain true love? Virgil would probably love it, with his dark affinities and creepy interests. He definitely seemed like the occult type.

Burying the box, Roman patted down the dirt, then returned the shovel to his car. From there, it was just a matter of waiting. Pulling out his phone for a quick game of Candy Crush or a scan of his social media feeds would have been the best time passer, but somehow it felt wrong to bring technology into such a place, during a touchy process like this. He didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Roman’s knowledge was already shaky at best and at its core this was all nothing but pure rumor and folklore. There was no guarantee it would work.

In the quiet of the countryside, it was just him and the crickets, and the frogs. They chirped away in the field, paying him and his endeavor absolutely no mind. He caught the hoot of a nearby owl and assumed the creature must be up in the old oak tree beside the road. It was the only thing around, besides the streetlight and telephone poles.

The light’s presence came as a relief, honestly. Roman had no idea what phase the moon should be in that night, but it didn’t matter, because the whole sky was clouded over. Not a single star could be seen and thus without the streetlight he would have been stuck in pitch blackness. The heavy shadows outside its circular beam, a metaphorical sanctuary from the unknown, made him uneasy enough. And as the minutes stretched into nearly an hour, he started to wonder if this really was such a grand idea, after all.

In hindsight, it was rather foolish. Go to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night and bury something in the road, hoping to summon a demon? What was he thinking, exactly? There had to be better ways. There had to be a safer, more sane method to have Virgil fall for him. He didn’t need to do this. He shouldn’t be doing this.

It was when he reached towards his pocket for the car keys that it finally happened, because of course that’s when it did.

The loose dirt where he’d buried the box shifted. It drew his attention instantly, and he blinked. Nothing else happened for nearly a full minute and Roman started to wonder if he’d just seen things, if his mind was indulging his wishful thinking. He shook his head. Anything could have made the dirt move. Maybe he’d buried a beetle too, on accident. Maybe gravity or the wind had finally knocked a few bits of sediment loose. Maybe… maybe…The dirt shuddered again, and then it swelled, rising and spilling out in a circle as something broke through it. Roman knew the hole he’d dug was too shallow for even an animal, let alone a person. There had been nothing this large inside when he’d dropped in the box. The sequence he was viewing with his own two eyes didn’t make any sense.

Yet there it was, a looming shadow with glowing purple eyes. It didn’t look to be much larger than Roman, but its shadow stretched far longer, crossing the boundary of the streetlight to meld with the surrounding darkness. It was holding the box he’d buried. Stunned almost breathless that the stories were true, Roman could only gawk at the thing as it popped the lid off, rummaging around the contents. A hiss bubbled forth from it; Roman swore he could hear the sneer there, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Is this an animal bone? Dude. Nasty.”

Roman blinked again. He recognized that voice. Yes, it was distorted and gravelly, but beneath that was a core cadence he found all too familiar. He squinted, inquisitive, some of the shock ebbing away so that he could push off his car. “I was merely followin’ the necessary ritual! Are ya tellin’ me I didn’t need to include the bone of a black cat?”

The culmination of shadows tossed the bone aside in distaste, snatching up the photograph before callously dumping the graveyard dirt onto the ground. “I mean, if you wanna be all old school about it, sure, I guess. Hope you didn’t kill anything for it.”

Good lord. What place did a demon have to be so damn judgmental?

Roman scoffed and puffed out his chest, confidence returning swiftly on the wings of defensive indignation. “’Course not! Just what kinda person do you take me for, creature of the night?”

He swore the demon rolled its eyes at him, but it was difficult to tell when there were no visible pupils. It stared at Roman’s picture for what felt like ages, not saying anything else, merely scrutinizing his visage. Was this part of the ritual? Did it have to do with the deal Roman would be making? Why didn’t the demon just look at him instead? Then there was the matter of that voice, which Roman still couldn’t pin down. He just knew he’d heard it somewhere- though, that was impossible. This was a demon. How could he know its voice?

At last, the picture abruptly went up in violet flames, not exactly turning to ash but instead disappearing before Roman’s very eyes. The demon performed the equivalent of rolling its shoulders before locking Roman into place with its piercing gaze. “Alright. You summoned me. What is it you want? Fame? Fortune? The hand of some girl who couldn’t care to give you the time of day?”

Roman gasped and pressed a hand to his chest, rightly offended. “Bold of you to assume I like women.”

“Oh, please.” The demon snorted; actually snorted. That sounded familiar too. “I know your type. A dime a dozen; brazen young men who know ‘exactly’ what they want but can’t seem to get their hands on it. So they cut corners, and they summon me, and get me to do their dirty work for them. Or were you just feeling lonely and wanting some company out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

Roman sputtered. He’d expected some derisive comments, perhaps something sinister about the ritual and his soul, but this? This was an absolutely outrageous and unwarranted level of sass. From a demon! He was positively gobsmacked. In fact, there was only one person who so thoroughly thrashed him like this. Ironically, they were the cause for this entire debacle, yet if Roman didn’t know any better he’d think Virgil were there making fun of him. The uncanny similarities were really beginning to grate on his sanity.

Was this part of the demon’s ploy? Did it already know his deepest desire, and was playing on it to wear Roman down? Make him more inclined to accept a grave deal? Swindle him straight out of his soul without actually providing a lick of compensation? What had Roman gotten himself into?

Apparently, the demon didn’t have much patience. It growled softly at Roman’s lack of verbal response. “Well? What do you want? I don’t have all night.”

Roman was surprised by that comment. “Don’t have all night? Whatever do you mean? You’re a demon. What else could you possibly have to do but make deals with people? What, do you have some angels to terrorize? Candy to steal from a baby?”

Oh, the demon was scowling, Roman could just feel it. “I thought maybe, just maybe, viewing me in this form would make you even a tiny bit less annoying. This is what I get for hoping. I should have known hell nor high water would get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Uh. Excuse me?” Now Roman was really confused. “Do I… know you? What do you mean, ‘this form?’ Are you not always a walkin’ ink blot, Bendy the Depressin’ Demon?”

“Like you just said, I’m a demon, princey. I can change my form at will. One of the perks of being a monster. Usually, I just can’t be bothered, so I show up like this and get the deed done with.” The demon sighed, its voice edged with another sneer. “You would be difficult.”

Roman stared. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended again, because there was only one person who used that nickname for him: “princey.” Virgil had coined it after coming to one of his musicals, after begging and pleading with the reclusive grump for days. Roman was playing a prince, and after returning home Virgil had commented how fitting the role was. After a bit of banter regarding whether the title was a compliment or not, the nickname had stuck, and it retained a small soft spot in Roman’s heart.

Had the demon read his mind? It was speaking to him with such stark familiarity now, though. The menace and eerie factor were fading in the wake of a growing sass and gruffness. As if directly affected by the change, the elongated shadows were coalescing as well, framing a more distinct silhouette. Roman paled.

It couldn’t be.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Your Royal Arrogance. You’ve labeled my appearance as ‘concerningly demonic’ before.”

“Virgil?”

The shadows melted away, revealing pale skin and brown hair and smudges beneath glimmering purple eyes. Virgil’s clothes were nothing out of the ordinary; just his usual ripped jeans and thick, patchwork hoodie. Were it not for the circumstances, Roman might think his roommate had simply snuck along for the ride. Instead, the reality of the matter was starkly reaffirmed for him when Virgil parted his lips to reveal two rows of sharp, pointy teeth. More could be seen behind them as he spoke, the distortion gone from his voice. “In the flesh. Well, relatively speaking. This still isn’t my true form.” He shrugged.

Roman gaped, eyes so wide they could have popped right out of their sockets. He had to be dreaming. Maybe he’d never actually left the apartment. Maybe he’d changed his mind, been sensible and just gone to bed, and now his brain was conjuring up what going out to the middle of nowhere to summon a demon of all things would have looked like.

Which was why it looked like Virgil, because dreams were messed up and jumbled together and never, never made a lick of sense. That was the only explanation. He refused to believe this was real.

A blink, and suddenly Virgil- the demon- no, the dream demon- was in his face, mere inches separating their noses. The demon had raised a fist to mime knocking on the empty air and there was mirth glinting in his eyes. “Knock knock, Prince Gawking. Anybody there?” He gave a dark chuckle when Roman understandably leaped back, hitting his car with a loud “thud.” “Okay, I take it back. You are difficult, but this is also really amusing and totally worth the trouble. You look like a mouse.”

Roman spluttered, his indignation returning as he felt an embarrassed heat rush to his face. “I beg your pardon! I am no mouse!” He hurried to straighten up and dust himself off, tugging down his shirt hem. “An’ you will cease usin’ the visage of my cru- of my roommate immediately!”

Virgil- the demon- snorted, still clearly amused. Every time he so much as smirked, or sneered, Roman got another good look at all of those sharp teeth. The sight of them sent chills running laps along his spine. “Oh, but princey. This is what makes you comfortable, isn’t it?” He spread out his arms. “The person you spend the most time with, the one who’s always on your mind. Oh yes- I gleaned enough from those shoe box offerings you buried. This, is precisely who you want to see.”

Roman paled a bit and swallowed hard. “Listen here, Bruce. Cloakin’ yourself in his skin doesn’t make you any less of a shark. Much as I might compare Virgil to the demonic sort an’ the occult, you are besmirchin’ his name by puttin’ on this little act! I won’t stand for it!”

Abruptly, the demon rushed up in a violent surge of purple flames. Roman was so stunned he stumbled back and landed on his butt in the dirt, all bravado expelling from his lungs in a rush. The sass really made it easy to forget he was speaking with a denizen of hell. “Then sit for it! Because guess what, princey, this is no act.” The demon bellowed. Clearly, it was exasperated and possibly frustrated.

Well, it wasn’t the only one. “Stop callin’ me that!”

“Calling you what? Princey?” The demon sneered, though it was simmering down, returning to its more humanoid form.

“Yes, princey!” Roman snapped. He scrambled to his feet, determination burning in his brown eyes as he worked up the courage to stare the monster down. His fists had clenched at his sides. “You’re not allowed to use it. Only he is.”

The demon quirked a brow. “Who? Virgil?” Another dark chuckle and the demon shook its head. “Oh, princey…”

“What did I jus’-”

“Who exactly did you think you were talking to all this time? A doppelganger? Tough luck.” A blink, and suddenly a more realistic, spot-on Virgil was standing there. The sharp teeth were gone, the eyes had dulled and the sinister aura which had been whipping about the creature had disappeared. “Virgil is already here. It’s me, I’m him. So, that means I can say what I want. Princey.”

“That’s impossible!” Roman exclaimed. “Virgil isn’t a demon. He’s my roommate! He’s always been perfectly human, this is jus’- ’s some dream, ‘r a sick joke. You said it yourself, you can shapeshift! This is jus’ a trick to steal my soul!”

“Uh, newsflash, Drama Overlord. You came here and summoned me. To make a deal. Exactly what were you planning to barter with if not your soul?”

“Well- that’s, uh…”

“Trust me when I say you’re not dreaming. I know that first part- trust me- might be a hard pill to swallow, but this is real, and you’re no Sleeping Beauty. You’ve already hit your ass twice. Don’t you think you would’ve woken up by now?” Virgil was starting to circle Roman, eyeing him up like a wolf or a butcher.

Roman would really like to know just where his bravery had run off to. He had a few choice words for it. “I mean, that’s… that is…”

“And you’re right. I can shapeshift. But I’m not gaining much by taking this form, am I? I could’ve stayed a shadow and gotten this crap over with. I just wanted to see the look on your face at realizing you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as a demon all this time. Real hellspawn. I could prove it, if you like.”

He swore he felt something brush against his back; did Virgil have a tail? Horns, too. Was it on purpose? Was Virgil just messing with him?

“You always hide the spare key under the loose step instead of the doormat. You won’t admit it but there’s a bunny sticker still stuck to the sliding glass door for the balcony from when you put them up as Easter decorations and didn’t realize they’d be a bitch to peel off. All of your shampoo smells like a fruit salad, you have an entire stash of Lush bath bombs hidden under your towels, you spend at least one entire hour every morning getting ready, even if you have nothing planned for the day.”

“Now jus’ hold on a minute-”

“You sleep with a stuffed Build-A-Bear you dressed up like a prince, his name is Sir Growls-a-Lot. You refuse to drink anything carbonated, even sparkling water, and you always put Crofter’s on your breakfast- even when it’s not toast. You prefer cinnamon toothpaste over mint like the damn Extra diva you are. I can go on. And trust me, unless I’d been targeting you, I would not know all of this.” Virgil grumbled, “I sort of wish I didn’t….”

Roman was gobsmacked- again. He stared at Virgil for a long period of time before finally, slowly, bringing a hand up to press against his own chest. His eyes stung with the wetness of unshed tears and his expression was the epitome of fondness. “You… remembered all that… about me?” His voice squeaked a little.

Virgil immediately looked like he’d swallowed an entire lemon. He glowered at Roman and shoved hands into his pockets. “Shut up.” His voice reverberated and echoed, like it had while he was ensconced with shadows. “Point is, I’m a demon. The dude you’ve been rooming with is a goddamn demon so now the question is, what are you gonna do about it? I’m still waiting to hear what you want. But then are you just gonna go back? Pretend this was all a dream and look at me the same in the morning?”

Roman blinked. Oh. Right. The entire reason he’d driven out here in the middle of the night, and gone through the trouble of gathering the ritual items. He’d almost forgot. In an instant, it felt like a stone had been dropped into his stomach, and his next swallow was around a dry throat. He began to fidget, no longer able to look at Virgil, those soft feelings gone from his face. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Ah… yeah. About that. You see… it’s… um. Right, the thing is… I….”

Virgil released an aggravated sigh. “Get on with it, Your Shyness. I don’t have all night.”

“What do you mean you don’t have all night? You’re a demon- nevermind, nevermind, gettin’ off topic here.” Roman cleared his throat again, desperately coughing into his fist as if it would make this any easier. How was he supposed to know the demon he summoned would be the same person he wanted to fall for him? This is what he got for messing with the supernatural. “I wanted… to… have someone fall for me. As hard as I’ve fallen for them. You see, they don’t seem to really notice me, or my advances. I’m… jus’ about at wit’s end.”

Virgil scoffed. “I can see that. You summoned me for help. Pretty desperate.” He brushed some of his bangs out of his face with a soft huff. “Should’ve known it’d be something love related, if not fame. You always were the worst type of romantic.”

Roman winced. He tried not to shrink under Virgil’s scrutiny, but it was hard. Because he knew which question was coming next.

“Surprised you’re so embarrassed about it all of a sudden. Or that you didn’t rant to me about it. You ramble about all your other passions in life. What makes this guy so different?” He eyed Roman a bit longer, partially just to make the man squirm, before shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever. Not like it matters. What’s the poor asshole’s name?”

“Ah…” Roman rubbed at the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. Never before had he been so nervous, even before his very first on-stage performance in front of a real crowd. He was basically confessing here- not even just that, he was admitting that he cared for Virgil’s affections enough to seek out a demon. Hoo boy. He’d really stepped in it this time. “His name… is… Virgil.”

It was Virgil’s turn to blink. He stared at Roman, taken aback, before cool indifference slid over his face again with a shake of his head. “Wow. Figures. Same name as me, this is gonna be fun to deal with.” He sighed. “Last name? Gotta have the whole thing if I’m gonna mess with their head.”

Roman wrung his hands together. Well, there was no real backing out now. Might as well go the whole nine yards. “Virgil Deimos.”

The silence which instantly engulfed their little ring of light was palpable. The tension from Virgil’s initial appearance, which had slowly ebbed away, returned with a nasty vengeance and then some. It was so thick in the air Roman swore it was trying to choke and suffocate him. He wanted to cough, but he’d admit it- he was too scared. Virgil was staring him down with such a blatant intensity and disbelief that it stole away his last remaining breath.

Why the hell did he still find him so beautiful, even like this? He must have a death wish.

At last, the silence was broken by the sound of tinkling glass. Except it wasn’t glass, it was Virgil, and he was beginning to laugh. The demon laughed, tilting his head back, the sound warped and distorted and just a touch hysterical. Roman thought he saw a glimmer of tears rimming those smudged eyes and he grimaced. He hadn’t even known it was a thing for demons to cry. He’d certainly never seen Virgil do it, but then, Virgil usually hid away in his bedroom whenever he was feeling upset about something.

The laughter subsided, and Virgil brushed away the tears with a careless finger. They must have been from pure mirth because he didn’t look sad at all when he focused on Roman again. “You’re joking. Okay, I get it. You find out I’m a demon, you know I’ve been scaring the piss out of you on purpose, so you try pulling my leg. Good one. Now what’s his real name?”

Roman sputtered. “That is the name! Virgil Deimos.” He stared the demon down, even as he felt that heat return to his cheeks. “…you. It’s you, alright?”

Virgil’s eyes glinted purple for a brief moment, and then he took a step back. His expression shifted to shock. “You’re serious. Holy shit.”

“Uh, isn’t it an oxymoron ‘r somethin’ for a demon to use the word holy-”

“Shut up.” Virgil snapped, before running clawed fingers through his hair. “Holy shit. Holy shit. You mean it. You mean… me. Me. Why?” He turned to look at Roman again, his eyes narrowed with newfound suspicion and paranoia. “…why?”

Roman bit at his tongue for a moment. Lord, hadn’t he gone through all of this trouble to avoid blatantly confessing his feelings to Virgil? Still, now that he knew Virgil was a demon with untold power, he was far more inclined to just answer the question. He only hoped Virgil didn’t get insulted or something and decide to rip his guts out. “Why? Why? Because you’re soft-” He tensed as Virgil hissed and hurried on. “-a-an’ attractive!”

Virgil scoffed. “You call me things like ‘Emo Nightmare’ on a regular basis, princey. And constantly judge my ‘look.’” Virgil raised his hands to use air quotes for emphasis.

It was Roman’s turn to huff. “Jus’ because I might not… agree… with your fashion choices, that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. You’ve got this sort of… broody, dark allure about you.”

“Wow, you really only hit half of that ‘Prince Charming’ nickname, don’tcha?”

“Shut up an’ listen to me!” Roman snapped, and he was a little surprised when Virgil actually blinked and shut his mouth. Well… good. Maybe he could actually get out more than one sentence at a time now. He tugged down his shirt a bit and straightened his shoulders. “From the moment I saw you, I was smitten. Downright lovestruck, do you hear me? Cupid took one of his frivolous little arrows an’ jabbed it straight into my heart!” He mimed the act of being stabbed in the chest.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Nice choice of words there.” At Roman’s glare, he held up his hands. “Couldn’t resist, couldn’t resist, go on.”

Roman pouted at him. “Laugh an’ be amused all you want, but I speak the truth. There are many things I like about you, Virgil.” His tone softened, along with his gaze, and he offered the demon a hand. Of course, Virgil only proceeded to stare at the appendage like Roman had lost his mind, and maybe he had. He continued speaking nonetheless. “I like how your hair is an utter mess in the mornin’, but you don’t seem to care. I like how meticulous you are about your eye liner, an’ your hoodies, but little else. I think it’s adorable that your favorite color is purple, that you doodle little storm clouds any time you get your hands on paper an’ a writin’ utensil. I like how intense your voice gets when you’re passionate, an’ how witty you can be with your sass. Few can be a match for me, after all.

“I like how you always curl up into a ball, no matter what you happen to be sittin’ on. How you always hug the throw blankets an’ pillows. You’re never cold, you jus’ like to be cradled in soft things, an’… I’ve always wondered if that could include my arms.” Roman dropped to a knee. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but it just felt right. This grand gesture and confession of love needed the proper pose! “I’ve wanted you, Virgil. I’ve wanted you for weeks an’ I’m at my wit’s end.”

Virgil actually looked uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. More like he’d never dealt with this sort of affection before, or the feelings it caused. He was flustered. “You can’t be serious. Crushing on me for weeks? All we ever do when we’re in the same room together is butt heads.”

“That’s jus’ it!” Roman exclaimed. “I absolutely live for our banter, the heat of a verbal battle, each of us vyin’ to have the last clever word! That’s when you’re at your most fiery, your most enticin’. I tried comin’ onto you in several ways, but you always mistook my flirtations as a gag, ‘r a tease. You always completely missed the point an’ you never took me seriously- just like you’re not takin’ me seriously right now!” Roman’s eyes might as well have been aflame. “Well, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not! You’re here to make a deal with me, right? I want Virgil Deimos to notice me. I want him to feel things for me. Or at the very least, see my motives for what they truly are.”

Virgil seemed to be at a loss, and Roman knew he had him. The demon squinted at him, scowling hard and shoving his hands back into his hoodie pocket. “You realize that means I get your soul, right? You’re not even asking me to fall in love with you, or be yours. You’re asking for a chance. That’s all.”

Roman smiled, and his voice had gone soft again. “I know. But even if you are a demon, I wouldn’t want to force you into anythin’. I wouldn’t try to make anyone love me. What’s the point, then? Is it really love? I just want a chance to earn it. I want that initial spark, an’ then time to see if I can fan the flames into somethin’ truly marvelous an’ worthwhile. An’… if I fail at that….” He dropped his gaze. “…I suppose it would at least have been worth the adventure, in the end.”

Virgil pursed his lips. He looked legitimately torn for a moment, which was odd. For him, as a demon, surely this must be a real win-win of a situation. No matter what, he’d get Roman’s soul, and he might not even need to pay the full price for it. So why did he look so conflicted? “I….” He stared at Roman for several moments longer before sighing. “I… can’t. I can’t make this deal with you.”

Roman was immediately on the defense. “Why not?! I summoned you! You’re supposed to take whatever deal I’m offerin’, that’s how it works, you can’t jus’-” A cold finger pressed to his lips and his brown eyes widened.

“Shut up, princey.” Virgil growled. He was quick to remove his finger, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture but desperate to stop Roman from talking. “I’ll still make you a deal. Just… not that one. Not one for your soul.” He grumbled, “At least not immediately.”

Roman blinked. “What… do you mean?”

Virgil sighed. “Listen. I might be a demon, but I’m not heartless, and I’m not as cruel as I could be. I’m not… just gonna let you throw away your soul on me. But I am obligated to make a deal with you. So how about this? I’ll… give you your chance. To swoon me, win me over, whatever. If… if you fail at that, like you decide to give up and move on, I… I get your soul then. But if it works, deal’s off. You won’t owe me anything.”

Roman could do nothing except stare at Virgil, wide-eyed. He belatedly realized he was still on his knees. Something about that minute detail made the situation all the more poignant. “But… why? Why do this for me?”

Virgil wasn’t looking at him, but he did provide an answer; sort of. “Don’t worry about it. Demon business. You wouldn’t understand.” Roman had a feeling that was a load of bull, but Virgil barreled on so he couldn’t call the demon out on it. “Anyway, do we got a deal or not? I can’t refuse to make one with you, but… you can change your mind. Now’s your last chance to do it.” Virgil stuck out his hand.

Roman’s stare shifted to the appendage instead, while the gears churned away inside his head. Technically, he was still getting what he wanted. Now he just had the chance to skip out on eternal damnation. He couldn’t even be paranoid about it being a trap or a trick; Virgil had clearly lowered his odds at getting Roman’s soul. It really didn’t make a lick of sense to him, but… who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Perhaps Virgil had a change of heart. Maybe he already saw Roman in a new light, after all. His stance on trying had hardly changed, so… he had nothing more to lose.

Decisively, Roman took Virgil’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Deal.”

A flicker of anxiety passed through Virgil’s face before it dimmed back into indifference, and he retracted his hand. “Alright. Cool. You just made yourself a deal with a real life demon, Sir Desperate. How does it feel?”

In a single, fluid motion, Roman rose to his feet. One hand pressed fingertips to his chest, while the other swooped out in a grand gesture towards Virgil. He was giving the demon his very best smolder. “Like I’ve got a chance in hell.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, then he snorted, shaking his head. “This is gonna be hell. For me, anyway.” He looked over at Roman’s car and quirked an eyebrow. “You drove all the way out here in the middle of the night? You really do have a death wish.”

Roman laughed and spun on his heel, hands rising up towards the sky. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #demon au #hey look roman its an actual demon lmao #still taking prompts btw #fangirltothefullest

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samingtonwilson · 7 years

Text

Relationship Tutor: (8) Twenty-First Century Romanticism

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: the “there’s a little man right here” line is my favorite. and lol im sorry about this but also, you’re fuckin welcome for it.

An eighteen-page close reading analysis was placed in Professor Pierce’s office mailbox by ten A.M. just as the instructions dictated to you.

You thought the setting of the thick stack of paper in his plastic cubby would have caused waves of relief to wash over you, but you only felt your anxiousness increase twofold. Because not only was Professor Pierce the biggest pain in your ass workload-wise, he also took a century and a half to grade any assignments.

Each time you so much as pictured his greying ginger hair, his creased pale skin, his thin lips that seemed to be perpetually chapped, you felt a prickling under your skin and behind your eyes. Although it was likely that the feeling was due to your lack of sleep, having slept a total of eight hours over the course of four days, you still strongly disliked the concept of Professor Alexander Pierce. Hell, even thinking his name was getting to you.

You shook your head and slung your bag onto your shoulder, your eyes on the screen of your phone as you exited the building. You replied to a few stray text messages from Sam and Steve, halting in your steps as you read over Natasha’s message three times.

You chose not to reply, tossing your phone onto the passenger’s seat of your car and ignoring each subsequent buzz for the sake of general safety and your especially small ability to multitask when your brain was as exhausted as it’d ever been.

You’d decided to call in sick for your shift at the library, muttering something to the elderly head librarian in a voice you hoped sounded hoarse and nasally, because you thought you deserved it. You deserved to lay in bed, to watch television and eat junk food by the shovelful.

You had to repeat that last sentence to Sam several times when he’d requested that you go with him to Clint’s party. He tried to convince you by repeating that it was a Friday, that you needed to get off-your-ass drunk, that you needed to catch yourself another bomb ass lay.

You didn’t particularly disagree with the latter two points, you just thought sleep was a greater priority— especially when you knew Bucky and Natasha would be there. Natasha was, after all, a close friend of Clint’s and it was nearly certain Bucky, a mere acquaintance of Clint’s, would tag along with Steve upon learning of her presence.

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky, likely due to your cave-dweller-like behavior throughout the last week and not at all due to Bucky’s lack of trying.

He’d come to check on you numerous times, turned away from your door when you refused to so much as crack it a fraction of an inch— you knew your bleary mind would cause you to pounce at just the sight of him. Unable to fully leave you be when he was so concerned, he made sure to drop-off any form of sustenance he could get his hands on when he knew Sam was in class.

You were beyond appreciative, but the gesture made your chest ache even more. It made you see him behind your eyelids each time you slept— see what you wanted to be, what you wished he wanted the two of you to be.

Standing at your door, you dug through your bag for your keys and growled in frustration. “Seriously?” you whined. “I just used you in the car and threw you in here three milliseconds ago!”

When a pair of shoes entered your downturned gaze, you lifted your eyes to meet a smirking Sam with his arms crossed over his chest as he leant against the frame of the door. “There a little man in there?”

“There’s a little man right here,” you said in a singsong voice, poking your index finger into his chest as you brushed past him to enter the apartment. “Okay, I’m gonna go sleep until the next century. Goodbye and goodnight, may you attain all the happiness the universe has to offer and may you never forget to use protection.”

“Not so fast,” he sang back, grabbing onto your wrist before you could escape down the hall to your room. “Barnes is on his way over, said to tell you because his texts aren’t delivering.”

You dug your phone from your pocket and sighed when the screen remained black despite the many times you pressed the lock button. “Battery must have died a minute ago. But since when is he considerate enough to announce his upcoming arrivals?”

“Since he walked in here with you pantsless and Stark satiated.”

Your lips fell into a disgusted scowl. “Please never say ‘satiated’ again.”

He nodded with a laugh as he picked up his backpack and crammed in a textbook. “Made extra waffles this morning if you’re hungry.”

“Marry me, Samela,” you shouted, racing to the kitchen and immediately retrieving a plate. “Have a good day in class.”

“Have a good day sleepin’ ya ass off!” he returned, shutting the door behind him and promptly locking it.

You practically moaned as you scarfed down bite, after bite, after bite of the fluffy waffles doused in maple syrup, your eyes slipping shut when you sat back in your chair at the table.

A loud, incessant knocking at the door broke you from your reverie and you growled to yourself. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

You opened the door with an added dramatic flair you didn’t think you had the energy for, your eyes rolling as soon as you saw him. “Seriously?”

His smile turned into a frown quickly, sidestepping you to enter and crossing to the kitchen to fix himself a plate as well. You figured he must have caught onto the smell. “That’s a nice way to say hello. Hospitality is really your specialty.”

“You have a spare key, Buck. I had no reason to get up.”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“Me getting eight hours of sleep over the course of four days constitutes enough of an emergency.” You sat in your seat once again and picked up your fork to take another bite. “Don’t you have class in a bit?”

“Skipping.”

“What’s your excuse?”

He shrugged as he sat beside you. “Felt like it. Aced my quiz last week, I’m all caught up on readings, and I’m allowed three absences.”

“Wow, look at you.” You applauded him with a playful smile, spearing one of the strawberries on his plate. “You’re excelling.”

He smiled back, his cheeks puffed out from the bite he’d just taken. “I am, huh?”

Shaking your head, you sat back again and crossed your legs at the knee under the table. “Are you going to Clint’s tonight?”

“Thought about it. Doesn’t really feel like my scene.”

“A party with alcohol, weed, and beer pong doesn’t feel like your scene?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow. “In what sort of alternate universe have I arrived?”

He laughed sarcastically and narrowed his eyes into a glare, steel blue even more metallic.

“You know, Nat’ll be there.”

“She told me last night.”

You frowned in what appeared to be consideration but was actually the result of the plummeting of your stomach. You decided to gush instead. “Ooh,” you cooed. “Is that date number two for you crazy kids?”

He scoffed. “Maybe it is.”

“I’m guessing the half-like has bloomed into a full-like, then?”

You were answered only with a wordless shrug, his gaze falling to his plate to stare at the remaining berries and cut-up waffle.

“You sleep with her yet?” you asked jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively and reaching over intending to poke his stomach repeatedly, but you stopped after one poke. You stared at him in sudden bewilderment. “Do you have a slab of limestone under there? How are you so rock solid?” you poked him three more times. “What the fuck? You eat all day!”

He slapped your hand away with another glare. “First of all, that feels fantastic,” he told you sarcastically. “Secondly, I haven’t slept with her.”

You tilted your head with furrowed eyebrows. Your blood seemed to cool. “You haven’t?”

“Don’t look so shocked, I told you I fully intended on taking this slow.”

“I know, I just didn’t think you meant this slow.”

“Why?” His eyes were a bit wider. “Is this too slow?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, no. It’s not. It’s just slow for you. I mean, maybe you should stay celibate until you two hit, like, six months.”

“Don’t mix sarcasm with seriousness. I can’t tell them apart as easily.”

You wanted to tell him no part of that was sarcastic, but laughed anyway. “Do you have an idea of when you want to, for the lack of better words, do it?”

He shook his head, polishing off his glass of juice and leaning back in his chair once he’d finished his waffles as well. “Nope. Do you have any idea of what an appropriate time is?”

“Buck, there’s no set time. It’s right when it’s right.”

“I just feel like it’ll be right when I’m more sure about it, when I’m deeper into it than just being attracted to her. When I feel something— anything.”

“If that’s when you think it’s right and Natasha’s fully into it, then that’s when it’ll be right.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t jumped your bones yet,” you laughed a moment later, looking away from him to focus on the picture frame behind him.

He leant forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Why? Has she said anything?”

She hadn’t, you just would’ve jumped his bones by now. “Ha, I’m not telling you.”

“You’re supposed to tutor me through this!”

“Not by offering up insider information!” you argued, rolling your eyes. “What was your first kiss like?”

“First kiss with her?”

“No, your first kiss with that blonde in 4-A,” you mumbled dryly. “Yes, your first kiss with her!”

He was looking at you sheepishly when you met his gaze again. “I haven’t actually— We haven’t kissed yet.”

Your eyes widened. “What? How many leaves are you turning?”

“You never told me I could!”

You laughed incredulously. “You don’t need my permission!”

You rose from the table with your plate in-hand, hearing his chair scrape across the floor as you walked into the kitchen. You held your hand out for his dish, placing both in the sink and flipping the water on.

“I guess I want to be sure before that, too.”

You squeezed too much lime scented dish soap onto the yellow sponge, hyper-aware of his eyes on you as he stood leaning against the counter. “When was the last time you were sure that you really liked someone before you kissed them?”

“Middle school,” he chuckled with a single shake of his head. “What about you?”

You set one of plates, now clean, into the basket and started scrubbing the next. “Sophomore year of high school.”

He nodded and motioned for you to explain.

“I really liked the guy that sat in front of me in chemistry, he really liked me. He passed me a note to meet him behind the library after school.” You sighed as you flipped the faucet off, setting the other plate into the basket. “He gently backed me into the stucco wall, apologized when he realized I scraped my elbow, and kissed me while we were laughing about it.”

You glanced at Bucky and placed your hands atop the wet granite bordering the sink, scowling at his amused smile. “Stop, don’t make fun of me. It was very high school and very cute.”

“Sounds cute. Very cliché, though. I wouldn’t think you’d be into that.”

You turned to lean your hip against the counter. “What do you think I’d be into?”

“I don’t know. Something less like a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

“I’ve changed since high school.”

He nodded, eyes not wavering from you. “I’m sure you have.”

You were tempted to lean into the warmth you felt rolling off his body, clearing your throat and focusing on the refrigerator door instead. “How do you plan on kissing Nat?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I was just gonna—”

“If you say you’re just gonna ‘plant one on her,’ I’ll throw up all over you.”

He pushed at your shoulder and laughed when you looked at him. “I have moves, you know.”

Words tumbled from your lips before you could help it. “Yeah? Show me.”

“What?” his voice sounded a bit disbelieving, his smile reflecting the same.

“Show me! Show me a move and I’ll tell you if she’d like it.”

He shook his head to himself and pushed off the counter. “Not to sound like Mr. Chemistry, but I’d back her into something, too. Gently, give her adequate space to leave if she wants,” he told you as he approached you, your backside pressed against the edge of the counter.

His eyes stayed in yours. “Eye contact is key.”

You thought he might be able to hear your heartbeat, the sound thundering in your own ears to the point that all other noises were muted. You stared back at him and loosened your grip on the granite before dropping your arms limply by your side.

“I’d hold onto her,” he continued, a strong arm snaking around your waist so you arched away from the counter and into him, your chests together. A shaky exhale left his lips and you risked a flitted glance in their direction. His arm tightened as he added, “Maybe a little closer.”

The slate blue of his irises was almost molten, his thick eyelashes practically able to brush against your skin, you couldn’t remember if he’d managed an inhale.

You looked at his lips once more, thankful that his grip was holding you up.

He appeared as if he wanted to say something but he only leant in closer, stopping so there was barely a centimeter between you. “Then—”

You closed the distance, kissing him as softly and briefly as you could. You broke away only enough to look over his shut eyes, his parted lips that left a glimmer of hope alive— a hope that he might be just as wrecked as you were.

And you kissed him again.

A groan was pulled from his chest as you let him deepen the kiss and it took just the setting of your hand under his jaw for the kiss to grow warmer, harder, more desperate. Another groan rumbled through him, almost eliciting a moan from you.

Your fingers tangled through the growing hair that fell to the nape of his neck, a teasingly gentle tugging of the strands rewarded with a gasp and a nip to your bottom lip.

Had your lungs not been so drained, you would have stayed there longer, kissing him until your lips grew numb. But you pulled away, eyelids heavy and heart aching behind your ribs with every forceful thump.

You opened your eyes fully and were met with a gaze you could only describe as scorching, needy, and contradictorily relieved.

He then tilted his head and the illusion broke, two of your fingers involuntarily touching your lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t— I haven’t slept in, like, half a lifetime,” you explained with a shake of your head. “And I’m really— I’m basically delirious and I should—”

You shook your head again and mustered a smile. “Natasha would like that. You should do it,” you told him while suppressing disappointment when his arms loosened and fell from your body. “I’m gonna— I should sleep. Feel free to leave whenever you want.”

PART 9: INTERMEDIATE REPRESSION

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