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blankdblank · 3 years

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Next Caller Pt 51

For all the warm kisses in the world the stiffness in his body from those four bed kits hit him like a freight train upon waking. Sure he knew the bandaged fingers taped together would hurt but what seemed to be simple kits had him gladly accepting your body eased against his back to help him upright and onto his feet. The giggles did help, the ones you tried to not let him hear though for his good humor now it would be a long day ahead while you both eased around one another in the kitchen to fix up breakfast and peas for Kuu.

“Oh, um, I can come back here for lunch if you want, I’m sure Balin can let me out of inventory for an hour.” He rumbled lowly trying to mask his body’s wish to groan in his way to answer the door.

“That’s ok,” you called to his back, “Let you focus I’ll be ok here. Think it might rain anyways. Feels like it.”

Upon opening the front door into his chest Ori and Shari both jut forward at the crack of lightning splitting in a web all across the sky. To their steps around him the roll of thunder followed and he closed the door eyeing Mal’s scooter on the way down the street. “You would be right on that. Light show outside.” Making his way to the garage where he hit the door button to let Mal ride right in and hurry inside once she parked. “Thank you.” She whispered passing behind his back into the house shivering the static of that last bit of lightning off of her body.

“Not a problem. Is that a chicken?” He asked catching the head poking out of her jacket making him turn to follow her.

“No,” she replied entering the kitchen where your sigh was heard clearly seeing what she was pulling out of her jacket. “Now Jaqi I know what you’re thinking, just got the Mortar Boar settled into a new home now a new project animal. But Jaqi you have to see it!”

She opened her jacket and the irritated dark brown duck with a pink belly lined with hints of white to make it resemble a salmon to catch other fish lulled to security thinking when they dive that they are just another fish. Open mouthed you stared in her cradling its pale pink feet and you said, “That’s-!”

She nodded and adjusted the black wrap on its clearly injured wing ever so slightly, “I know! And I know the protocol is to call the Aviary but we couldn’t get through and I thought with your line to them they might pick up your call.”

“Those are supposed to be extinct!” You said watching as she brought a second bag forward that you crept closer to peek into seeing the illogically huge clutch of eggs found with the mother who was still carrying her own eggs clearly. “These aren’t her eggs she couldn’t have laid these with how many she’s still carrying!”

“I know! But this girl came in saying she found out her boyfriend was screwing around so she torched his stuff and then went to his work shed in the back yard and found these and there weren’t any other mothers but she’s got all these eggs and she’s still carrying more and even more Mortar Boar pups! Six of them! So I called Dain about the pups he took the train in yesterday, Truffles is so excited!”

Thorin’s glance in her backpack had him peering over her shoulder asking, “Did you know your bunny is nibbling on your notepad?”

She gasped at that and he gently reached in lifting the almost volleyball sized bunny that sniffed up at Thorin with ears flopped around its face while you asked, “What about this guy?”

Mal said, “I put him back in his carrier! I did!”

With a giggle you said, “Well apparently you got a cute ghost on your hands,” you said smoothing your fingers along its cheek tilting its head welcoming the pets. “I’ll get my phone.” By the time you returned you had the Aviary on the line, which was beyond thrilled to have the birds to add to their collection of two males and a younger female not ready to lay yet found last month. Sharing they sent a crew out to bring in to be there within the hour having been warned by a security guard of some more possibly injured birds. “That’s handled,” you said eyeing the bunny in Thorin’s arm nibbling on the strips of veggies he sliced for it making Mal smirk at the attention you both were giving the little guy.

Mal, “Thank you, for making the call.” Eyeing the duck on the ground beside her bag adjusting the blanket around all the eggs not willing to sit on them and risk a chance of damaging the eggs.

Thorin said, “I can stay a bit late till the crew shows up, so don’t worry about that.” Taking another bite of his food then easing another bit of food closer to the bunny, “I think this is one of those rabbits that gets huge.”

Mal nodded, “Almost two feet. Got a call about him yesterday his new owner is meant to be getting him this afternoon. I’ll have to call the manager when they open tell him he snuck into my bag. Can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

Shari asked, “Elured and Elurin aren’t coming today?”

“No,” you replied, “but I have the comic strip mock ups you can color for me along with some more images and scenes I’ve been doodling at work you can transfer to sketch sheets for spare things to do if you like?”

They both nodded and Ori said, “We just love working on this story, anything would be amazing. To help with.”

Listening in to the beginning of your description of what the teens were to start on Thorin kept hold of the Bunny amusing Mal even more that he wouldn’t put it down since joining them once dressed. The duck sat nibbling on the peas you had convinced her to eat with the help of Kuu who had come through to fetch his peas a bit late due to helping the triplet owls into their nest with their parents. The news of incoming crew from the Aviary was assured to not bother the greenhouse at all calming the family of owls upon their being informed that your friend had used your link to contact them to help the mother and eggs in need to their new home to heal and grow.

Where your usual radio intro would begin you timed with a tap of your finger to hit the play button on your booth monitor for the hour and a half of audio recorded. Confusing Mal until you slipped out of the booth to the narrator’s voice introducing the next piece of the world. A bit of lore, a tale of three skin changers and how they shaped Adrienne’s early life. Though her intro would not come until much later in the final ten minutes leaving the awe striking albeit confusing shift in the storyline away from Durin and Bunny to something needed to be played for others to understand the storyline coming later. Once outside you smiled to Thorin saying, “Took me ten takes to record this bit I can’t do it live.”

Thorin rumbled through a smirk, “Comedy?”

“Not to others not till later. It was a late addition so I know the context how it plays in later. Plus Cirdan and Cinnamon helped me with some of the voices. Their parts would have been the hardest for me to get right.”

That was the reason and with a smile you got to work on a longer version of the next commercial from its comic strip to fill in later with background by the twins in their return from Gondor. The handoff went smoothly with no distribution as promised to the owls and the ducks and eggs comfortably settled into their carriers to be settled into the nests made upon their arrival. The other ducks found before the stop at your place shared similar wing injuries to lessen their flight ability and eagerly moved to huddle around the eggs found joining the female that they apparently had left to watch their eggs while gone in search of food.

Regrettably, Thorin from his spot had to go and to your side he moved easing the Bunny from his arms to your lap in a lean. Pressing a lingering kiss to your temple there. Eyeing the blushing moment of Bunny fixing Durin’s collar ever so slightly brushing his jaw with her fingertips. And out it slipped, low and dropped in honey, “Menu Tessu,” (you mean everything to me), he had thought it but never said it, until now, two days after the discussion on when you might be comfortable expressing affections aloud and red cheeked you felt his embrace slip away and put he slipped mumbling, “My Mafioso, Food tonight, bye flopsy.”

Soft and long Mal squeaked in excitement as you took a moment to rest your head on the bunny’s to try and hide your warm cheeks trying to calm yourself making Ori and Shari just about burst out laughing if not for their wish to not embarrass you more.

“Menu Tessu,” Thorin muttered to himself passing his cousins inside the office turning their heads from the door he made sure to close behind him.

Dwalin, “What now? Only asked how the night went.”

Sharply turned to his cousins once he slung his coat on the back of his chair, “I told her Menu Tessu!” That had their jaws drop, “Not two days since the night of our date when we have a discussion where we agree to take the Hobbitish way of tapering into sharing affections for one another aloud and boom! Blow that to bits! Not I love you! Fifty miles past that, that she’s my everything! In a goodbye hug!”

Dwalin, “I said I love you over coffee, and Bilbo came round, how did she take it? Did she say anything?”

“I left!” he said then sighed with a slightly dopey grin, “Her ears turned pink though.”

Balin stood from his desk to lean against the other side of it to be closer to Thorin, palms lifted to press together with lips pursed a moment, “Word for word, what was said?”

“I said, Menu Tessu, kissed her temple and left the room saying, My Mafioso, food tonight, bye flopsy.”

Balin, “Flopsy? Where does the flopsy-?”

That had Thorin gasp and rub his hands over the face, “I named the bunny! She’s gonna think I want it, that I’m demanding we keep it! I just didn’t want it hopping around chewing on anything or leaving droppings anywhere! Now I dropped the bomb and demanded a stowaway bunny!”

Dwalin waved his hands, “Whoa, for us on two feet, what bunny?”

Thorin said, “Mal found these endangered ducks at work and they couldn’t get the Aviary so she brought them and asked Jaqi to call for her. Then I look in her bag and this massive bunny that someone else is meant to pick up this afternoon snuck into Mal’s bag and was nibbling on her things so I held the bunny that I passed to Jaqi before I left.”

Balin’s eyes narrowed, “When did you leave she’s live.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “Apparently this bit took ten takes to record she said there was no way she could do it live as she gets the context we won’t know till later in the series. Late addition.”

Dwalin nodded and said, “So, she didn’t act upset?”

“I left! And it’s not my fault I go to have this unimaginable date with her then we hear from you that there’s two surprise babies coming, giggle party and then we were talking to Gorgo on the way back and she gets our clan father. She doesn’t get the culture, but absolutely for the first time someone truly gets him. And I am just supposed to not burst when my mind wanders to that smile of hers knowing that the beds my every inch is throbbing from assembling will have mattresses I’m going to order on lunch arrive so she can make them and get that same impossible smile on her face when she marks them off the list for our home once made. I don’t know how I was supposed to wait but I promised to be more Hobbity and I can’t wait two days to say she’s my everything?!”

Balin, “Surely she loves you in return.”

Thorin exhaled, “We did state we know there is love there, mutually, we said we’ve never been in love and she’s rightfully scared to go there yet and I don’t want to force her hand but I couldn’t have just said I loved her?! Why do I do this? It’s the breasts thing all over again!”

Dwalin laughed at that, “Thorin, breathe, if you need lunch off,”

Thorin, “She said she doesn’t want to disturb our work, this was before the hug goodbye and my bomb.”

Dwalin, “Then just, when she gets home from the hotel have dinner, hug, tell her hello and give Hobbity another go. You’ve said it, not likely to be an everyday bomb.”

Thorin could only huff out, “You have a point.”

Balin rubbed his arm, “I am proud you got it out. So hard the first time. Now, to distract you, I have some yawning videos and sleep stretches I recorded of the twins! My Love sent me along here after I spent most of the night fawning over our duo, trying to tire me out so I sleep when I get home for a cuddle together.”

“He loves you,” Mal smiled in sharing with the bunny settling in her arms once lifted from its nap on the fuzzy carpet it chose to curl up on. Smiling at you as she said, “And he named this one flopsy. I think he wants a bunny.”

“Doubtful, I think he was just nervous.” You said hearing the car the duo had raced off to pulling away post rapid hug from the pair grateful for another day of unmatchable training in their chosen field.

Mal nodded and claimed a hug smirking to herself at your returned blush joining you to the garage which she drove out of glad for the lull in the rain to get to her apartment where Bilbo agreed to drive her to return the bunny. Back inside however lost to your uncertainty to how you truly felt towards Thorin to one day soon be able to name it you sat eyeing the notes of that song for Durin while eating. Allowing the oddity of the situation stir up the well needed juice for your mind to run off of to get what you needed. Once finished it was off to the atrium you went to take a seat at your piano for a curious medley for your new birds hearing it for the first time.

To the melody you hummed the notes grew in time rebuilding those old memories to when you first drafted it on the boat ride back from Ruun. Mournful and somehow intoxicating to hear the last love dripping note the song built ebbing and flowing to the disaster of Durin’s assumed disgrace at being refused by the love he knew to be his One. Humming along Kuu’s own current song took a bit of justice from the notes provided while the other birds feeling the effects for the first time soaked in the strength your music seemed to give. Deep in their hollow bones to the tips of their sturdiest feathers the birds sat in what seemed to be an enveloping hug of warm wishes, magic imbued in the song to build up their strength while the plants of your greenhouse gave a gentle glow while the flowering trees among them swayed to the tune.

Another oddity of finding someone of your caliber here, even the new birds had sensed a pain in you but they could have never imagined this, overwhelming sense of compassion just exploding from your very core. They were safe here, they knew that already. This was a haven, and you were its keeper and even Darling in her deepest natural worries on her age could almost feel that weariness wearing away, along with possibly an extension of her limited life. Belly was larger and stronger than he ought to be. And with this magic she knew why, intentionally or otherwise that overflow of compassion had been soaked up by him, Kuu and the hummingbird flock now dancing on air around their glowing and growing butterfly bush for a snack of the sweeter nectar it was to give in these precious moments of your songs.

This was what they could not see at first, the odd bird inside of you with this ethereal heart wrenching song locked in you. One tune bled to another and while growing in glee held the same unspoken fears deep deep below its cheerful glow. This was why Kuu sang his songs each night, hatching and growing to your music he wished to touch others hearts how you surely did and safe and warm in their back up nest on their way to sleep the owl family seemed to join along to tunes ended with a rippling yawn. Sleep won out and fluffed up safe and sound lost to their dreams they danced on colorful bursts of air echoing of songs of old yet to be heard by their innocent ears.

Work surely came and stilled to focus on what you might say the shift seemed to snap by with what felt to be a blink between when you had left the garage to returning to it. Just a moment you lingered in the car hearing the rain fall along with the entire speech you had tried to assemble. Eyes clenched you simply drew in a breath and climbed out of the car to head inside. Locking up behind you with coat on its hook by the door to head deeper inside the warm hearty smelling home.

Right on his face you could see the nerves and up to his hand wringing self you went earning a wide grin at the stretch to your toes bringing him in for a welcome home kiss one of those hands found its place back on your cheek through the stretch of it. “Come eat, some nice warm pasta fiasco for you.”

The name made you giggle and move in to claim your spot next to his, and with fingers tapping to the fork he laid out in the view of his timid confused gaze for the pause he heard and saw you say. “I just, about earlier,” he nodded and in a bold move reached over to take your other hand also tapping on the table wrapping his around it entirely with a kind grin easing out to lull you onwards. “I’ve written the words before, and aside from family I’ve clearly never heard them. And I’m not trying to lessen them, by saying, thank you.”

Across his face a grin split and for a moment he simply smiled at you adoringly with a you’re welcome of a nod, until low and sweet he rumbled, “There is something, unwritten in my culture, to honor your One’s clan and ancestors, it can take centuries and often ends in an accepting tolerance. Just, the pure, exultation of knowing bits of this story involving my clan, even imaginative, to the core you somehow see who they are, who we are. I truly cannot fathom the words to express how safe that makes me feel with you for our future together. I am easily pushed to unexpected outbursts by either impatience or my own stubbornness, I just hope one day to let you feel this safety. Much more than fear from physical harm, that of my understanding of those you love, cherish, who shaped you and will be my family too one day. For now, please eat.” He said leaning in to kiss your knuckles on the hand he lifted to his lips then returned to the table.

Softly however you asked, “If we hadn’t met do you think your clan would have still been all for the show and book?”

Smiling at you he hummed back, “We would have met, million different scenarios, we would have met, and we will always love your stories. This is no farce to simply draw you into our fold more, you don’t find stories like you just lying around every day, and I can’t tell you how deeply it struck Dis and Vili the most along with Mili and Tili for all those years we could have known you. Could have clung closer, you built a life on impossibilities and it is an explosion from that book. I hope you don’t mind I read a chapter from the first movement, I have never read anything like it before, and if not for Roac reminding me of our gardening appointment I would have been reading still right now until I finished it all.”

“You have your own patch of impossible you know,” you replied bashfully looking to your plate deepening his grin in a glance down of his own to not push you for the meaning clear to him behind those words. He could wait, because he knew when they came from you it would be unlike anything he’d ever felt before, no matter how timid or bold the delivery. “Roac likes to garden?” You asked in a glance over catching his eyes that were already on you again taking in the grin cracking across your lips.

“He does. Helps to dig and mark out some of my herbs. Also, found some cuttings for the front garden, have them in some pots in the greenhouse to build up some girth before planting them outside, hopefully when these rains stop closer to summer I will have something respectable for you to boast about. Roac also wants something to attract fireflies and lady bugs, Dot loves them, and, mattresses are coming on Wednesday and stud finder worked out your painting is on full display in its new home in the living room.”

“Mmm, my chairs,” you said around your mouthful and he nodded lowering his own fork.

“They came, put them in their right rooms, we can adjust them on Thursday morning if you like. The sea foam, orange/blue, orange/white and the peach rooms all have their chairs with matching footrests. Plus, hope you don’t mind I found a cute rug you might like for your sisters’ room. Balin has been looking for when his pebbles get bigger for their nursery’s second phase and said he’d give me the clipping when they were done looking through the catalogs, for under their reading corner sort of like the one in your studio but white and peach fluff. Quite an interesting pattern, kind of like clouds on a peach sunset blowing into shapes, if that makes sense, I think you’d like it.”

“Sounds lovely for it.” Easing out his smile again proud of his tiny contribution and excited to see you mark off the seating and foot stools from your home journal.

Half a minute of radio silence began the Bunny Show until with a hand over the mic muffled conversation came clearer into focus on what would be the most Hobbit themed bit yet. From doilies to a competition where people chase a block of cheese down a massive hill the audience listened and laughed along with the stunned Durin the Deathless upon being asked along to this event. What he had taken as a private time alone to meet with the clan of his beloved mysterious One in the green half of a partly ruined Hobbiton he stood amongst the crowds while his Bunny helped to tape up appendages and bandage scrapes from the onslaught while the Victor held their block of cheese aloft and grimaced through the pain of their dislocated ankle and knee from a last minute tumble over the finish line for the obligatory pictures.

Nonsense, all of this was nonsense but it came with a deeper story that over the mead afterwards tugged at the heartstrings of those who knew the sacking of a lost Hobbiton. The block of cheese was symbolic as a made up competition that a group of fauntlings avoided execution for having been caught stealing from the Big People in the town nearby that gained them attention and willing ears to collide with to overthrow the Goblin King who had enslaved and began to starve and cut down their populace to regain control.

One block of cheese was once held aloft, the first of the fake competition the Goblin King oversaw and awarded the ‘customary’ wreath of flowers that upon his having uncovered and touched burned his fingers and palms so badly that when the Big People sprung from behind the trees he could not do a thing to defend himself from their volley above the heads of the Hobbits now tucked in balls in the sea of tall grass. One block of cheese and their people were freed and each year now in participation with promise that their kin would make annual trips to ensure the fair Hobbit populace was continually in bliss and free the Big People stood and lay side by side is shared agony and mutters for the idiocy of the occasion that tradition would never break to honor that bond and those brave starving fauntlings who gained them aid.

Why was Bunny there? No one listening in could find the link until a mention was made that her ancestor was one of those who aided the thieves in confirming the truth of their fib that there was a competition, the very one that the Goblin King had chosen to work inside of his dwelling, the one he stole from her. A young Hobbitess who years later wed a wandering Elf Lord with whom had an extensive branch of Half Hobbits renowned for many a skilled heir to bring pride to the line. The first, in a way, amongst her own kind that shed a new light upon his one as being one of the firstborn line of her own race. Though for his irritation an assumption of a lack of relatives was revealed to be quite the opposite as amongst the sea of celebrating Half Hobbits and Elves in the chosen pub five meads in and the King sat wide eyed staring at her great great grandmother who could pass for a twin to his One.

Chuckles from those listening in came to the subtle means to shift his try to make good impressions to each person in the room as any could rightly so object to any union or bond. However to the delight of the Durin clan the show ending image was of wide eyed Durin in the middle of a field now accomplice to the very thievery of veggies from farmers now in chase with hoes aloft to capture him and the unchangeable fauntlings bent on the very act of theft he had tried to persuade them from committing.

“Aribella, that was bold to add her name in the story. Accurate, but bold,” Dwalin muttered in a raucous crowd of voices in the show between sentences that moved the show onwards. It truly was bold, Lady Aribella, as the half Hobbitess in question who married the Lord Baldr, also known famously around the globe to have been Durin the Deathless’ best friend in each of his lives who thanks to his bond in matrimony with his One had been gifted eternal life to spend with his beloved and their family. The both of whom were notoriously tight lipped about the fabled Durin between his lifetimes and refused almost always any use of their names in anything aside from charities or notices from their own endeavors to their clan companies. And the Durins weren’t the only ones to harbor dread for the legal battle that would surface if the couple were against their likeness being included in this episode. Let alone the book the world was on the verge of tears in belief the thing would have to be stripped of their mentions while copies of this show were to be scrubbed offline and shelved to never be aired again when the inevitable outcry would be announced.

Buzzes from phones however came in a tidal wave with a much more stunning announcement from the very same clan who all were awaiting response from the press had contacted immediately upon the first mention.

From Lady Aribella herself the notice read across the brief article being flooded any and everywhere stated,

‘From the heart of our clan we are as always eternally grateful for the respect of warnings upon notice of the use of our names from the public that have aided in our much appreciated privacy. We thank you for your diligence and also do wish to return a statement in response to all inquiries of our opinions on the material that has presented so admirably across the airwaves in such a heartwarming tale or adventure and intrigue that has a fond place within our hearts.

For at the very heart of it we have been granted the indescribable honor of watching our beloved great grandniece Jaqiearae Pearisiyiae at the helm of narrating and guiding the flow of the radio show in this enthralling marvel of airtime none else but this one station was bold enough to grant a chance to share with the public after so long being set aside by those wishing to silence her voice. We will never be anything but proud and fiercely protective of her endeavors to give this story the respect it deserves. And through her, myself and my treasured husband Lord Baldr, were granted the magnificent chance to aid in confirmation of character for our dear friend Durin the Deathless amongst several other characters. Both under their true names and those renamed to expand upon these tales encased inside this series of novels we hear one day soon shall begin to be shared with all of those whom have joined us in adoration for all they contain and shall grow to be.

We thank you again and in closing grant you a hint towards the next chapter upon which this show delves : A much needed feather, and Cantaloupe scented mittens.

The Honorable Keeper of the Keys Lady Aribella Corrupter of Durin the Deathless & The Guardian of the Gates of Gronkdlhelm Lord Baldr the Ever-Obstinant Foe of the sunken lands to the West of Bree & our beloved ever growing ranks of Pirates Free.’

“Thorin pinch me I can’t feel my arms,” Balin muttered to Dwalin’s repeated murmur, “Great Grandniece to Lady Aribella?!”

Thorin rumbled back, “I would pinch you if I could feel my own arms, how did we not talk about this? She’s one of the Pirates Free.” He murmured to the realization you were a part of their clan that they had named as such including adopted members as well who were held to immeasurable esteem amongst the Dwarf populace for renowned histories in both battle and the arts that have shaped this world through the ages.

Balin let out a deep breath and answered, “Perhaps she was honoring their privacy. And it would explain how she got his character so close.”

All Thorin could say to that was, “They’re going to be at our wedding.”

Dwalin muttered, “Or sooner, might fly out for the premier of the novel,” to the nearness of a pair of women that came to the counter. Wide eyed to question if the trio of Durins were aware of this earth trembling news each Durin in time by noon would have their own moment of shock to the news yet to be shared from their beloved newest member of the clan. While the world reeled on what the clue could mean and the fact that there was not just one book to be revealed but a whole series.

“Aribella?” Mal asked when you when you exited the booth. “I love you Jaqi, but, isn’t that like playing with fire involving her name? You do know how protective they are, right?”

“Ya, she’s my Great Grand Aunt,” promptly Mal clamped her lips to muffle the squeak she couldn’t hold in. “When I showed my Naneth and hers my draft they called her and Great Grand Uncle Baldr over to have a look. Said I got a good bit true to it. But I think they partly spoke about it to keep me from sinking back in again. Baldr said I was almost like myself again when I talked about the story. They didn’t go and share everything but a lot of how Durin shaped out to be was from what they did share.”

In a squeak she came closer saying, “Jaqi, how did this not come up before?”

“I, well, that was me. But I did email them this show would have them in it and apparently when I started the show they started prepping a press release for approval so the world doesn’t explode with questions for them.”

To your odd expression she asked, “What else?”

Simply you grinned at her and shook your head, “Just, their show of arms that it isn’t just the Durins and Naneth’s clan to back me up now, in case my father’s old friends tried anything. Not that the Durins aren’t strong enough, just,”

Ori said in the close of his bag, “No, Lord Baldr has twelve clans from each of the seven Fathers of the Dwarves who are behind him. He is formidable,”

Shari said, “We don’t fault what your statement is, it is true, the Durins are a mighty clan but even we would have some doing to get our allies to back us in legal battles while those clans it would take a mention and they would be preparing their legal resources.”

You said, “They’ve done what they can to keep my old show on air in Hobbit territories all these years for something to show for my hard work. Other projects they did the same and tried to stave off the red tape until we caved and stepped away. Things look clear so far, they just want to put up ranks to ward off any possible threat.”

Mal’s phone buzzed along with the couples’ in their switch on again to not have interrupted the show and the notices of messages from the clan had the couple trade hugs and goodbyes to claim the ride to the clan meeting that had been called. When alone with Mal you said, “I hope they won’t be mad for not sharing about them.”

Promptly she gave you a hug stating, “They will understand. Everyone always asks questions about them and they were best friends with Durin in every lifetime, they would have questions. They won’t be mad, if anything this meeting will be about adjusting to a possible future meeting, as I bet around the release your family will want to come to the party for the book release party. Because they always show support for the few projects allowed to have their names in them. Or at the very least the distant wedding.”

With a roll of your eyes you led her to the garage after having locked up the house to head off to lunch with Thorin, as the door rolled up however he asked you, “How did the night go after his share of devotion?”

Your eyes met hers to your hand folding around the fob for the car you’d chosen to drive for the warning of mist when you would return from the hotel later, “I told him thank you,” she nodded and you shared, “He’s being patient with me, we talked about it. A good part of it is my knowing his clan First Born and his character really touches him. Said it’s a trust step to know each other’s clans.” That had Mal nod and you wet your lips to say, “Just trying to not scare myself. The words are so hard, the twins, Thran, Glori and Echo, I’ve known them nearly my whole life. All of them are practically or distantly family.” To the tears in your eyes she moved closer to stroke your arm, “I know he’s not going to run away.”

“Don’t you push on that. Even the boys and me we haven’t shared steadfast declarations yet. Dwarf courting is patient, steadfast for a reason. Even more so when one party has been hurt and you have to remember Muffin Man, his fear for losing you, you know he loves you and in that swirl of confusion to name what you feel just to yourself Adad says that is the hardest milestone just internally for ourselves, even with Ones.”

You nodded and glanced away blinking the tears back and flashed her another grin, “Cirdan’s been messaging me about that in our emails. How I can sort of use his and Naneth’s path to courtship to help me with my trust the world won’t fall away if I let go. But I’ll be ok. I’m sure now that the betrothal has been named publicly Aribella and Baldr will have plenty of tips as well they will be bursting with. I know I got several emails with my ex and it barely lasted a blink.”

That had Mal grin at you, “Well then surely that will bolster your sails. They can give you ample Dwarfly steps to solidify your own foundation. You can do this. You just have to go have lunch with a Durin in a struggle with his own barrage of questions.” That had you giggle and watch her climb onto her scooter in your path around the car to climb in.

Pt 52

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

Next Caller - @avaria-revallier, @bun-bun-the-rabbit

#thorin x oc #At Home #Sore Morning #OC Mal #Animal Surprise #Aviary Newcomers #Big Bunny #Uncontrollable Utterance #Shared Hidden Alliance #Hobbit #Tea Shop AU

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cannibalisticapple · 5 years

Text

So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

They were wrong.

The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

“Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

“Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

The Quirk did not wear off.

Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

“So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

“Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

“Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

(He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

“I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

“Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open. So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

............

That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

What was that spot?

Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Day four of being a cat.

Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

It was not as easy as he hoped.

“—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

“It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

“Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

“Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

“And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

“Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

“But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

“He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

“How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?” Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

“Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

“I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

“Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

“What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

Day six of being a cat.

Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

“Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

“...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

And so, he jumped.

His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

“Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

“What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

“Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

“So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

#erasermic #aizawa shouta #aizawa x hizashi #yamada hizashi #mha #fanfic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years

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little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 13 of 29)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 part 22 part 23 part 24 part 25 part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go to the temple of mammon, Studio 54.

“You look,” Gene said, throat drier than sandpaper, “really good.”

Good was an understatement. Paul looked hot. The light blue of the dress made a good contrast against his still-suntanned skin. The neckline made up for the dress length, providing more cleavage than Gene had seen out of Paul since he’d first met him on the front porch in the bathrobe. The heels accentuated his legs—even as a guy, Paul had always had nice legs—but for maybe the first time in three days, Gene was paying more attention to Paul’s face than his body.

It wasn’t like he’d done anything wild with makeup. Blush, red lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara. Except for the eyeliner maybe being a bit heavier, it was about the same look as the night prior. But Paul seemed happier. Relaxed. There wasn’t that tightness to his jaw anymore or that tension to his mouth. And that was a surprise, given the stilted way their dancing earlier had ended. Gene thought Paul might have been sore or tetchy, or at least awkward, but he’d just carried right on. Those sad brown eyes of his didn’t look sad at all, for once, and if Gene were sentimental, he would almost have said they were sparkling.

Maybe he’d just liked sharing a few dances with Gene. And maybe tonight really was the night that this would all be over. Every bit of it. Back to normal life for them both, touring and signing and interviewing. Back to life a hotel room away from each other. He’d be stupid to regret the change. Just stupid.

“You’re not half so bad yourself, Gene.” Paul crooked his head as if he hadn’t seen variations of his outfit at least a dozen times over just this year. As if he hadn’t been suggesting half of it while Gene had asked for the clothes to be sent over. Black leather everything, including the pants—something he already was regretting bitterly. Silver accessories. A belt with a spider encased in enamel as the buckle plate. The public demanded a monster movie out of Gene even when he got off the stage.

“That’s generous.” The limo was already idling in Paul’s driveway. “You ready?”

It took a few seconds for Paul to answer. He wasn’t looking at Gene, at least, not directly in the face; it almost seemed as though Paul was scoping him out, assessing him like there was something new to assess. Gene would have called him out on it, except during times like this, he never was sure if it was Paul’s hearing or Paul’s daydreaming to blame.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The limo ride was uneventful. Gene decided he didn’t care for Studio 54 long before they pulled up to the VIP entrance. He decided that through the line wrapping around the building for what seemed like miles, the garish outfits of the wannabes begging for admittance, and the weird air of desperation mixed with eagerness that seemed to permeate through the limo windowpane. It made him feel itchy. Beside him, Paul had spent a bit of time doodling peace signs and dicks in the misted-up windowglass like it was a school notebook. His good mood didn’t seem to dampen until the limousine stopped, and he saw the press, out there already, all cameras and notepads.

“Gene—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got my bandana.” He’d forgotten to ask for it over the phone, but it’d been in the box of clothes for him anyway. A couple of them, actually. “Do you want one?”

Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Switch spots with me, would you?”

Gene swapped obligingly. The limo wasn’t roomy enough to avoid Paul brushing up against him as they traded seats. He caught the woodsy scent of Aramis cologne in Paul’s hair, just another indication of what he’d spent three days pounding into his head now.

“Want me to hold the door for you, too?”

“God, no.”

Gene laughed, and got out first. The bandanas always made him feel like he was about to rob a bank. Every so often, they’d get goofy with it, find weird headgear—knight and astronaut and football helmets—but for the most part, bandanas and scarves were enough out in public, real public. Places where they wanted to be seen, under normal circumstances. The first half-dozen camera flashes were blinding as always. He helped Paul out of the limo, hovering over him as he stepped out. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring a jacket, but maybe that would’ve made it worse, provoked the paparazzi more, if he’d tried covering Paul up too much.

“You okay?” he asked, as the crowd shuddered and swarmed around them. A horde, just a horde, worse than the CBGB crowd ever considered being. Fans would want an autograph or a lay. The press only ever wanted blood.

“I’m fine, I’m—”

“Mr. Simmons!” A woman reporter called out, touching his free arm. “Can I have just a moment?”

“No,” he said, brushing past, his hold on Paul’s arm only getting tighter. Walking quickly, not making eye contact, until the line—there was a line, unbelievably, for VIPs—forced him to stop. Paul had his head half-buried against his shoulder for the whole duration of their wait, tensing with every camera flash and intrigued leer. Gene realized, offhand, that the attention wasn’t pissing Paul off the way it had at CBGB. Instead, it was scaring him.

It made sense, he supposed. CBGB wasn’t nearly important enough to have reporters and cameramen about. They didn’t have big names there, either, no one that Paul would’ve really worried about bumping into. Paul had said earlier that he didn’t think he could pull off talking to someone that knew him, and Gene suspected he was right. Gene suspected an interviewer was even further beyond him at this point.

He’d expected to just be let in once they arrived at the velvet-roped entrance, not really believing Paul’s claims about exclusivity, but instead, a broad-shouldered kid with a grin held them up at the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gene echoed, and shoved down his bandana. On wry automatic, he held up his free hand—full of rings, including the skull one that the teenyboppers seemed fascinated by—as if it was a secret signal. The doorman blinked, unconvinced. Gene could hear Paul snort beside him. “I’m Gene Simmons from KISS, and the—lovely Miss Eisen and I would—”

Still smiling, the doorman pointed at his own tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” But Gene stuck it out anyway. The kid’s expression didn’t change much as he opened the door to let them in. Gene pocketed his bandana, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Paul until they were on the VIP floor, and hopefully beyond the bulk of the press’ touch, and even then, he didn’t let go. Paul looked a little shaken up, anyway, though Gene couldn’t blame him. It was a different beast from last night, for all their objective hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry. They won’t have gotten any good shots,” Gene said.

“That may not matter. Depends on who else is here.” Paul sighed, worming his arm out from Gene’s, shifting to hold his hand instead. No hesitation. He was getting accustomed to it. So was Gene.

Gene stole a glance Paul’s way before really taking a look at the scene, trying to absorb New York’s hottest discotheque, decide if the interior impressed him any more than the exterior. He decided it didn’t. Maybe too promptly. But the flashing lights, the blaring music—all that was ostensibly no different from CBGB, or any other bar or club; it was just a matter of size and budget and spectacle. It didn’t matter if someone was worth ten bucks or ten million; they all looked the same passed out on the floor. Enough of them were already that Gene couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten to Studio 54 on time.

“What do you think, Gene?”

“You liked it here?”

The VIP floor was covered in lounge furniture, long couches and glass-topped tables. The carpets were dirty, and the smell of booze was heavier in the air than Gene had experienced in years. Probably not since that ill-fated Hotter than Hell shoot when they’d first started off, the one that had very nearly ended with—well. Gene wasn’t in the mood to consider that one, not given Paul’s current shape.

But almost every square inch of the place was smothered in people. Hollywood giants, of vintage and modern flavors. He saw Liz Taylor—wild, to see Cleopatra in the flesh, nearly fifteen years out from the role and easily fifty pounds heavier. He saw Michael Jackson, making moon-eyes as usual at Diana Ross. Poor, hopeless kid. He could’ve sworn he saw Truman Capote, hitting on a well-muscled, shirtless bartender. And all around the giants were the hangers-on and the hopefuls and the arm candies of the duration. Transvestites in g-string bikinis, lesbians in suits. It was viscerally strange, the sheer variety. No one was paying them much mind yet, aware, somehow, that they were too sober to be worth noticing. Paul cleared his throat, defensive.

“Well, yeah, I like it. It’s kind of wild, yeah, but—”

Three feet from them, a producer was puking straight onto the carpet, while a Playboy bunny rubbed the top of his head. On top of one of the tables, a guy was snorting a line of coke straight down a naked girl’s breasts, and as he kept sliding, Gene realized that the powder ran all the way down, bisecting her torso.

“Paul, this is a cesspool.”

“C’mon, you’ve seen this shit before.”

“Not all at once.” Gene shook his head. “You’re not even into it. Why would you go here?” He understood it for Ace and Peter, as drugged-up as they’d get. He didn’t understand it for Paul. What was he trying to accomplish? What would it really matter, getting with the big names right in their stomping grounds, when those names were so trashed that they were useless? I want to belong somewhere, that was what he’d said. But this somewhere wasn’t it.

“I just—”

“Mr. Simmons!” came a voice out of the din, eager and excitable. Not a VIP. The tone was too innocent, too close to admiring. Gene turned around.

“I’m not doing auto—”

“Mr. Simmons! I work for Mr. Rubell! I’m one of the doormen!” The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, blondish and broad-shouldered. “Sorry I didn’t get you at the door, we’ve got a couple new guys, they don’t know—but listen, we’re all looking for that Carol chick!”

“Good.”

“We’ll tell Mr. Stanley when we see him, too.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman nodded, making an awkward salute before heading back. Obliquely, Gene wondered if Bill and Sean had checked Studio 54 out yet. Rubell seemed to have a hiring preference in line with their tastes. He turned to Paul again.

“Looks like they got the memo. You wanna sit down?”

“I… maybe for a minute.” Paul’s eyes darted around, searching for an empty table. Gene looked, too, but he didn’t see one. No corners they could tuck themselves into—not that a corner would’ve been great for keeping a lookout for Carol. Gene felt Paul squeeze his hand. Shot nerves already. Gene could tell that much before Paul spoke again. “If I can keep from talking to anybody, that’d be great.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky,” Gene said dryly, spying a tall man getting up out of his chair and waving them over.

“If it isn’t Gene Simmons!” the man called out in a distinctively non-American accent. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the feathered brown hair and bright smile would’ve made it obvious. It was Barry Gibb, holding a glass of champagne. “I thought your band was back on the road!”

“Barry, hey,” Gene said, sticking out his hand on automatic. Barry shook it exuberantly. “You’re a few weeks early for that one. How are you?”

Paul looked a bit like he wanted to die on the spot. Barry didn’t seem to notice.

“Great, great. My little brother, Andy…” if possible, Barry’s beaming increased, “he’s just released a single. It’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Really? I think I’d heard he had his own group in Australia—”

“Zenta! You do keep up!” Barry clasped his shoulder. “No, that’s done with now. He’s doing some fantastic solo work…”

Despite the meaningful, sour glances Paul kept throwing his way, Gene’s interest was piqued enough at the thought of a hit, and the thought of a worthwhile contact—the time or two they’d met in passing prior, Barry had been just about this congenial, so Gene didn’t think he was drunk—that he accepted Barry’s invitation to sit down. The next twenty minutes were filled with shop talk, Barry sending off for a Coke for Gene and a whiskey highball for Paul (Gene suspected Paul took Barry up on the offer as payback rather than an actual desire to drink, since he barely touched it), and praise Gene had a hard time fully enjoying.

“My son loves KISS, you know,” Barry said at one point. “He’s never gotten half so excited over our albums.”

“Really? How old is he?” Gene took a sip of his Coke, leaning forward. “We’ll have Casablanca send him something. We have a whole catalog of new merchandise in the works.”

“He’ll be four in December.”

Paul, who had stayed mostly silent up until that point, looked mortified.

“Four?” he almost wailed. Barry seemed amused.

“Oh, love, it’s not an insult. I wish we had that kind of mass appeal behind us.”

“Gene, this—we’ve got to talk to Bill, Gene, we just can’t—I know we don’t get taken seriously, but for God’s sake—”

Under the table, Gene nudged Paul’s bare ankle with his boot. Paul flushed and cut himself off abruptly. Barry glanced over at Paul, then took a swallow of champagne.

“The youth market's the best one to be in, Polly. I've been in this industry long enough to promise you that."

“What, ten years?”

“Next year it’ll be twenty.” Barry got up, shaking both their hands. “I hate to leave you too abruptly, but I’m to meet up with Maurice in a bit. Great to meet you, Polly, great to see you again, Gene.”

“Yeah. And I do mean it, about the merch. We’ve got dolls—”

“Oh, Steve’d love them. Thank you.” Another bright smile, and Barry headed off. Paul let out a groan as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Twenty years,” he mumbled, slumping forward, propping his head up with his hand. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Bee Gees have been at it for twenty years?”

“I didn’t, either,” Gene admitted.

“Fuck, how old is Barry, anyway? Peter’s age?”

“I have no idea.”

“At least he’s not gonna see me again like this. God, he thought I was a jackass…” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t take it personally. Barry’s a good guy.”

“Twenty years stuck with his brothers. I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other.” Paul got up, stepping away from the table, and Gene followed suit. “Think we can get a better look around without getting interrupted? I couldn’t see anything from here.”

Just from a cursory glance, Gene doubted it. Most of the other tables were full or near-full, and no good for people-watching. They’d be better off on the floor.

“We’re going to have to stand to see.” Gene started to take Paul’s arm again, almost on automatic, but a glance at his shoulder stopped him. “Did you get another bra?”

“What?”

Gene pressed a finger against the purple strap hanging past Paul’s sleeve. Paul shook his head, looking abashed.

“No, this is… this is just the nightie.”

Paul’s cheeks were going a little pink. That pink went straight to red when Gene tugged the strap back into place for him. He had to push Paul’s hair back and turn up his sleeve in order to fix the strap up again to his shoulder, under the dress. His skin was soft, dotted with a handful of moles Gene hadn’t ever really noticed before. There was the pitted smallpox vaccination scar, and the tattoo, of course, the green stem peeking a little past his sleeve. Gene’s fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his arm before he remembered himself enough to pull back.

“The nightie? Why are you wearing that here?”

The redness in Paul’s face wasn’t anywhere near abating.

“Because I didn’t buy a slip. This dress is thinner than I thought.”

“I bet it looks cute on.”

Paul fidgeted, starting to adjust the strap himself, fiddling with the slider.

“Thought you said you just liked what was underneath.”

“Well, that’s the main event, but you’ve got to say something for packaging—"

“Keep pushing it and you won’t find out.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Gene grinned. “Dance with me.”

He said it on impulse, almost airily. The song blaring through the speakers—some new funk bit from Marvin Gaye was already midway through. Paul put one hand on Gene’s shoulder. Still worried about what people thought of him, even in a place like this. A place where no one would’ve even given much of a shit about them dancing if Paul was like he ought to be. And yet here Paul was, thinking anyone’d care about a girl leading a guy. Gene shook his head, taking Paul’s arm and moving it to his waist.

“No, you lead.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The driving, pulsating bassline and wailing saxophone were such a far cry from the CSNY album they’d danced to in Paul’s basement. There was a flippant, overly sexual air to disco that was kind of fascinating. More marketable than their own sordid stuff. Gene didn’t know if KISS would try and ride the wave—they’d talked about it, and Paul had tossed around a few song lyrics—but it hadn’t come to much yet. Might ruin their image. Might solidify it.

Step by step. Paul was stiffer on the dance floor than he’d been in the basement. Partially because of how he had to keep shifting them both around, to avoid dancing into other couples, or stepping on passed-out partiers. But there was more to it than that. His lips were pursed, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the song. Maybe, for once, he was listening to the lyrics.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A little sweat was clinging to Paul’s brow, and a little more to Paul’s palm, enclosed in his. He hadn’t tried anything close to fancy, not even any turns or spins. He’d seen Paul do better than this just a few hours ago. Nerves. Except the only time Paul didn’t nerve out was in front of an audience. And this audience was too wasted to care if the two of them were tearing up the dancefloor or stumbling through each step. Paul’s tongue was poking out between his teeth again, and he wasn’t looking Gene in the face, and he wasn’t looking around the room.

Something warm was spreading in Gene, the longer he looked at Paul, the longer they danced. Stepped in time, more like. That concentration made his features seem almost sweet. Paul’s hand on his waist was fidgeting, like he’d forgotten how to hold it. Gene squeezed his shoulder, and Paul raised his head, finally, as Gene cleared his throat to speak.

“Hey. What’d you say dancing was earlier?”

Paul blinked, caught off guard enough that he stopped moving.

“Getting a feel for your partner. Mirroring them.”

“That’s right.” Gene exhaled. His fingers inched up past Paul’s shoulder, touching his cheek for a brief second before returning to his shoulder again. “Could you mirror something for me, then? Right now.”

“Yeah.” Paul had turned his head towards Gene’s hand. Was looking right at him, all big dark eyes and red lips. Red lips that were twitching up, suddenly, in the faintest ghost of a smile. “What do you want to—"

Gene inclined his head and met Paul’s lips with his own.

Paul kissed back instantly. Greedily. Gene was almost taken aback. It wasn’t ferocious so much as desperate, as though all his pent-up energy was suddenly given just a single release. Paul’s tongue licked across Gene’s lips for entrance before Gene could even get there first, hot and overwhelming. Gene dropped his hold on Paul’s hand to cup his smooth, soft jaw, fingers careful not to brush too far past it. His fingertips caught onto Paul’s curls, stiff with hairspray, yet they still somehow felt good against his fingers. The scent of his cologne, emanating off his hair and neck, was almost overwhelming, cologne and sweat and something else; for an insane moment Gene felt like he could almost smell the want on him.

Paul tightened his grip on Gene’s waist, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush. Gene’s hard-on was getting unbearable, pressing up against Paul nearly worse than no relief, because of all the things wasn’t. Gene couldn’t think straight. Could barely let himself remember who was kissing him so ardently, who he was kissing back, whose lipstick was smearing against his mouth and jaw and neck—

Gene only pulled back to get a breath in. Paul’s hand had sunk below Gene’s waist, groping at his ass through the leather fabric. Paul kept shoving his hips against him, friction that didn’t really quite manage to hit its target. Too much of a height difference. They could fix that. Fuck, they could fix that right here in the disco, in one of those basement rooms—he could fuck Paul there, against the wall, or on the floor; he didn’t care, anywhere. He murmured against Paul’s neck, lapping and kissing, not quite daring to leave a mark against his skin. Gene barely felt Paul’s ankle latch around his boot, almost as if he was laying claim, but it warmed him, nearly as much as Paul’s little hitches for breath, the needy press of his lips against his skin. Gene grunted, fingers tightening on Paul’s hair, intending on tugging him back in for another kiss when Paul’s expression shifted, dilated, glassy eyes suddenly going wide, whole body tight as piano wire. His foot went back into place on the floor, stiff as a soldier, hands seeming frozen on Gene. The color was starting to drain from his face.

“Paul? What’s wrong?”

It must have hit him. His brain must have caught up with his libido faster than Gene’s had. Gene started to let go, feeling his brow furrow, a little, hopeless shame twitching in his gut, but then Paul grabbed onto him harder, shaking his head.

“It’s not you. It’s not you, I swear.” One hand withdrew, just to point. Gene couldn’t follow Paul’s finger at first, with the slew of people, but finally he caught sight of the blond doorman from earlier, ushering someone forward, towards them. Someone cute, but not beautiful. Not a VIP. Someone he knew wouldn’t belong on her own here, any more than Paul did.

A small young woman with light brown hair.

“She’s here.”

#kiss the band #paul stanley #gene simmons #gene simmons x paul stanley

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vexation-virgil · 5 years

Text

Breathe

Summary: Roman Prince and Patton Hart are high school sweethearts with a never ending pool of love for each other (and, of course, Patton’s chickens). College is different and new and exciting. But it brings about the feelings that there is something not quite right - their love is vast and there is so much to give and they decide that they simply want their relationship to grow. Easier said than done. Enter, Logan Patrick. An intelligent and attractive boy in one of Patton’s courses that is not eager to make friends with Patton let alone build a relationship with two of them. It takes time and patience and understanding, but the three find happiness together and are ready to face whatever challenges may come their way. Which may just include the cute best friend of Patton’s younger brother, Thomas. Virgil Casey, though, had not had an easy life. But starting a new life in New York has started to look better as the three attempt to woo the anxious emo. That is until Remy Dormir, the third member of Thomas and Virgil’s friend group, gets a new boyfriend. One that Virgil is all too familiar with. TW: aphobia, homophobia, bullying, miscommunication, cheating, self-deprecation, anxiety/panic attacks, self-harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy ideas of relationships, unhealthy/abusive relationships, stalking, assault, kidnapping, death threats, child abuse mentions, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, underage mentions, noncon, unsympathetic/abusive Deceit (Ethan) Relationships: LAMP, Abusive Anxceit, Abusive Sleepceit, Implied Remy/Thomas/Emile WC: 27273 A/N: HAHA I did it! I really did it, just in time, thank goodness. This was a beast and it’s a beast I am so proud of. My big bang fic, Breathe ( @ts-storytime ). I’d like to thank @lesliealiceinwonderland for being a wonderful beta over the last couple months and really helping me chug, chug, chug along. And my family over on discord for dealing with me the last couple months. I got paired with the wonderful @nottodaylogic as an artist for this and you can check out their art HERE. So, thank you all so much for being amazing through this whole process and without further ado, Breathe.

(Wanna read it on AO3 instead? Check it here.)

It started with Roman and Patton.

The theater program in their high school was small, but Roman Prince was determined to make it big. Always cast as the lead, making everything a show, constantly over the top. The bigger a scene he made, the better he felt.

Patton Hart was not nearly as loud, but everyone knew him anyway. The sweetest person around, friends with anyone who would let him stick around for even a moment. Funny and kind and soft. Patton always felt best when everyone around him was happy.

They met when the theater director put out a call for live chickens. Yes, actual, real life chickens, to be carried around on stage by Roman for one scene. Just one. One and they still needed to be living, breathing, clucking chickens. Roman was, decidedly, not happy when this news came to light. He was extremely happy, however, when a bright, bubbly boy came onto the stage with him to introduce him to the pair of chickens.

Roman would never forget the big smile on Patton’s face when he had chuckled over the names of the chickens - a giant spotted bird with huge flapping wings named Chicken Little and a smaller, almost solid brown chicken named Drumstick.

(”You named your chicken… Drumstick?”

“Oh, yeah, my little brother thought it would be funny to name her after something we eat. He tried to get me to name her Breast, which was when I realized that maybe letting the thirteen-year-old name her wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Roman chuckled at that, tilting his head to the side. “Then why not Wing or Thigh?”

“Drumstick was the funniest!”)

Patton spent a lot of time teaching Roman how to properly hold the chickens but even more time trying to keep Roman from panicking anytime one of the chickens made any sort of movement. Eventually, it got to the point where their time before rehearsal just wasn’t enough and Patton started inviting Roman to his house after rehearsals.

After the first time they had hung out alone at Patton’s house to work on the chicken handling, Roman had well and truly fallen in love. All it took was watching Patton walk around the little farm to take care of the different animals. A horse named Whinny, a cow name Rocky Road (”Get it? ‘Cause cows make ice cream?” Roman hadn’t tried to correct him), a pig named Bacon, and all the different, punny named chickens. He seemed at home and comfortable there, like nothing mattered in the world except what was going on in that moment with the animals. And he’d allowed Roman into his world with a pull of his hand and a soft, sweet smile as he told him what to do to get along with all the animals. Roman had barely been able to focus on anything that was happening outside of the gentle way Patton explained things to him.

These private moments were some of Roman’s favorites during the production, and he loathed to see them end. It wasn’t hard to convince Patton to keep allowing him to come over after the curtains closed. Roman had grown attached, in one way or another, to all the different animals. And to the way Patton always seemed so at ease there.

Roman not only loved his time with Patton, but Patton’s family as well. His mother, Eleanor, who always pinched his cheeks and told him she was going to fatten him up and his brother, Thomas, who, despite being a teenager that could really get on Roman’s nerves sometimes, loved listening to Roman tell stories or talk about theater.

Patton was a huge fan of how well Roman seemed to fit into his bubble. His small world of three had grown to a slightly bigger world of four before he even realized what was happening. One day, it was Roman coming over to learn how to deal with Drumstick and the next it was Roman coming over because it had been forever - see, two whole days - since he’d been over and Patton missed him, despite seeing him in the halls and sitting with him at lunch.

It was Patton that made the first move, something that still surprises them to this day. Roman had a plan for asking him out, for their first date, their first kiss. But, as always, Patton had other plans. Which is to say, he had no plan.

It had been a completely normal day, nothing even slightly out of the ordinary happening, when Patton kissed Roman the first time. Roman had been singing a quiet melody while they worked on homework together, books and paper strewn across the beds and assignments blending together.

Patton wasn’t focused on the assignment in his lap, instead watching the way Roman seemed to lose himself in the song even as he doodled on his science homework. His dark hair swooped over his half closed eyes and his cheeks were flushed a light pink. Roman really was beautiful.

He’d cut Roman off by pressing his lips against Roman’s. The other had seemed surprised for all of a second before he’d melted into the kiss. Roman knew it was cliché and silly, but that kiss felt like fireworks. It felt like everything falling into just the right place at just the right time. It felt perfect in a way neither of them could have predicted.

(”You just—“

“Yeah.”

“That was… Wow.”

“Wow.”)

The moment was ruined by Roman’s phone ringing next to him and forcing his attention away. It was ruined even further by the scolding Roman got upon answering the call about missing family dinner with his parents that night, despite being completely unaware they were even home. He spent a few minutes apologizing and promising to be home soon and saying they could have dinner together the next day before he was able to turn his attention back to Patton.

Roman had pushed on a big smile and invited Patton to meet his parents. They had spent months hanging out at Patton’s with his family, it was only fair that Patton finally got to meet his. Patton laughed and kissed his nose, agreeing in an instant before he sent Roman on his way home.

Richard and Jane Prince were not happy about the addition to their family dinner. Or the fact that their son was claiming to have a boyfriend. Their perfect child couldn’t do something like that, couldn’t possibly think acting out like that was an okay thing for him to do. They didn’t dare say that in front of their son’s friend but that didn’t keep Roman from noticing the little ways they attempted to knock Patton down or the ways they continuously ignored the fact that Patton was Roman’s boyfriend.

(”So, Patton, are there any girls you’ve got your eye on?”

“Oh, Patton, you probably don’t need an extra serving of potatoes, do you? Would you like a salad?

“Roman, darling, you should take Patton here to the gym with you!”

“When are you going to bring a sweet girl home, Roman?”)

The entire night felt like a nightmare, like something Roman needed to wake up from and not something he actually had to live through. Patton had kept a tight smile on and an even tighter grip on Roman’s hand the whole evening, barely managing to kiss Roman’s cheek goodbye. Even after Patton had left, the terror didn’t end. Roman had earned himself a lecture on just how inappropriate it was to behave like that after not having seen his parents for months. He had no reason to act out, he had everything he could ever want. It had taken all of Roman’s strength not to scream back at them. He’d gone to his room and stayed there trying to convince himself that everything was fine as he made sure Patton was okay.

It was clear everything wasn’t fine, though, when Roman showed up at Patton’s door step in the middle of the night in tears. Eleanor brought him inside without asking questions, she just listened as Roman explained through his sobbing that all he wanted was acceptance, the bare minimum, and his parents wouldn’t even give him that. Eventually, Roman had fallen asleep on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and Eleanor offering quiet comfort to him.

Roman pretty much didn’t leave after that. The Hart family welcomed him with open arms and constant reminders that Roman was always welcome there, no exceptions, even when Roman tried to argue and tell them they didn’t have to keep him around.

(“We know, darling. But we want you here. You’re Patton’s boyfriend and Thomas loves you. You were practically here all the time anyway, the only difference is now the guest bedroom is your bedroom.”

“But--”

“No buts. Go help Patton set the table.”)

The only time Roman ever went back to his house was when he knew his parents were home, when he knew they’d want to have ‘family time’. It wasn’t often, just once every couple months over the course of their senior year, but it left Roman drained every time as his parents continued to push what they wanted onto him. When he got back, Patton was always waiting at the door with hot chocolate and Disney movies and more hugs than Roman could ever possibly handle. Roman really loved him. He really, really did.

Despite how close they were in the beginning stages of their relationship, Roman and Patton’s relationship only grew closer and stronger while their peers’ relationships crumbled within weeks or months. Classmates would sweetly refer to them as ‘relationship goals’ which always earned a cheerful “we don’t even play soccer!” from Patton and a fond eye roll from Roman. They were voted best couple during senior awards and Roman’s prom queen gave up her crown to allow the two prom kings to dance together.

High school ending and college beginning was a bittersweet time. They moved to New York together at eighteen and shared an apartment - financed by Roman’s too full college fund and generous weekly allowance - while attending courses at NYU. It was far from home, far from the Hart family, but it was a new and grand adventure they were excited to pursue.

Thomas and Eleanor visited during the holidays, insisting it was more fun to visit them than it was to have them come home. Thomas came out to them the Christmas after he turned fifteen. Eleanor brought Roman flowers after seeing him in his first college show, despite the small role, the year he turned nineteen.

They had well and truly settled in by the time they were twenty, true New Yorkers and a sickeningly sweet domestic couple.

Roman had been the one to bring up the idea that it felt like something else could fit into their relationship. They’d talked about what it could be endlessly.

(”It’s been four years, do you think we should get married?”

“Is it fostering? Should we try that?”

“Maybe we should try some new kind of date night. It’s been so long since we gardened, maybe we could find an urban garden to do something with?”)

After having discussion after discussion, Patton suggested they try dating someone new. Not separately, but together. Patton had called it a ‘throuple’ with a little laugh before he talked a little more seriously about the idea of polyamory and asking if that was something Roman even wanted. Roman had agreed, said it sounded right and comfortable when thinking about attraction and himself. He still loved Patton dearly but he felt there was enough love to give to another person, maybe more if Patton was comfortable with it. Patton had kissed him and told him they could start thinking about it.

Days, weeks, months went by without finding anything or, really, anyone that felt right. Patton had felt discouraged and unsure and Roman had been right there with him.

And then, Patton met Logan Patrick.

They met while taking a human development course in their second year of college. Patton had sat down next to him on the first day of class with a cheery smile and pointed out that they had the same glasses.

It had earned a less than enthusiastic response but that didn’t deter Patton, who was determined to make a friend in every course. He’d done it through his first year, he was going to do it now. Even if it took the whole semester to bond with this one specific classmate. Luckily, it didn’t take that long when, after receiving a barely passing grade on the first test, Logan had offered to help Patton study. Simply to assist in improving his grade, of course.

Logan was a very good study partner, always managing to keep Patton on task even as his mind wandered. He somehow managed to make connections between where Patton’s mind was going and the text, keeping them on topic and helping Patton learn all at once.

(”Suzy, one of the babies I work with, she always cries and cries when her mommy drops her off until I can get a chance to pick her up and—“

“And that is what Freud describes as the id. The child - Suzy - has a desire to be held and while she is not being held she is experiencing displeasure, so her cries are her attempt to gain satisfaction.”)

Patton realized he had feelings for Logan during midterms. It had felt like weeks since he had been able to spend any sort of alone time with Roman where they weren’t studying or sleeping. In contrast, he and Logan had been together almost constantly to study for their shared class. The two of them had been in the library, taking a short break from going over vocabulary they needed to remember for their test, when Logan had looked out on the campus and told Patton he missed being able to see the stars.

Logan had looked so sad, so exhausted, and Patton had wanted to help. He had asked about the stars and Logan lit up, immediately going off about his favorite constellations, their placement in the sky, and the stories behind them. He went so far as to pull up pictures on his phone when it seemed like Patton couldn’t quite picture what he was saying.

They had abandoned their studying for a full hour as Logan talked and Patton hung onto every passion filled word he said. He’d seen the similarities between him and Roman and just… Fell. Fell for another one of the brightest stars in the sky.

There was some guilt there, though. Guilt over the fact that maybe he only felt this way since Patton hadn’t been able to see Roman or spend time with him. Guilt over the fact it felt like he was trying to replace Roman when he absolutely wasn’t trying to do that. He still loved Roman with his everything, he always would, but, still, the thought ate away at him every time he looked at Logan and felt the butterflies in his stomach.

The first opportunity he had, he talked to Roman about it. Roman who gushed with him and promised him he didn’t have to feel bad and told him he must, must, must see a picture of this stranger who had caught the eye of his beloved.

(”Show me! Show me the stranger who is threatening to steal away my love!”

Patton chuckled, shaking his head nervously as the guilt in his stomach reared its ugly head again. “He’s not going to steal me, Ro, he doesn’t even know I like him.”

“That is besides the point, darling. I want to see a picture of this man who has captured your attention.”)

Patton hadn’t been able to provide a picture - Logan was not a fan of having his picture taken and hid behind something every time Patton had tried, resulting in some blurry photos - but a promise was made to have Logan over for dinner one night. Roman had seemed pleased with that answer and had kissed Patton’s temple before going to make them popcorn for their last minute movie night date.

Logan and Roman met the day before Columbus Day, not long after Patton made his promise. They had no morning classes on that next day - Roman’s were cancelled, Logan never had any, and Patton was fine skipping his math class just this once. It gave them the ability to stay up and talk late into the night if they wanted to.

Dinner went well, as far as Patton was concerned. Roman had loved Logan the moment he saw him. He had already heard Patton talk about this friend-turned-crush of his and to put such an adorable face to someone the first love of his life liked was just the icing on the cake. And they got along! Where Roman could rant and rave about musicals, Logan could fill in with fun facts about a line or the way the scene was first presented. Where Logan could name the constellations, Roman could dramatically tell the stories of where the names came from. It may have been information they both already knew, but that didn’t make the conversation less entertaining for any of them.

Patton had left for all of three minutes to grab dessert after it seemed like Logan was going to stick around for a while when everything went south. It was the door slamming that got him to abandon his attempt at opening a wine bottle with a broken opener and go running back into the living room. Roman was standing, staring at the door, looking utterly confused and somewhat hurt.

(”What happened?”

“I tried a pick up line? He got… Very upset with me. I don’t think I have ever heard anything scarier than the way he just scolded me before he just… Left.”

“What did he say?”

“He thought I was trying to cheat on you! I was going to explain but he didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he stormed out!”)

A misunderstanding. A miscommunication on Patton’s part. He probably should have explained that they were polyamorous and open to finding a new partner, or partners, but he couldn’t think of a way to casually bring it up to Logan without revealing his crush at the same time. Of course, the one time Patton didn’t want to overshare and actively avoided doing so had led to disaster with just a single pick up line.

Logan had felt terrible and avoided Patton for days following what he had initially labeled ‘the incident’. He had even skipped class, something he was normally unwilling to do even when he was sick. He was unsure how to tell his only friend that it seemed as if his partner was attempting to ‘make a pass’ at him.

When he had finally summoned the courage to talk to Patton about it, Patton had felt so embarrassed as he mumbled the truth so quietly that Logan wasn’t able to hear him the first three times he said it. Apparently, Patton and Roman being poly and Patton having a crush on him had been an unexpected answer for Logan, as he had stared at Patton for a solid minute without saying a word before he turned and left.

Patton had cried right there in the library as soon as Logan had left his sight.

All hope had not been lost, though, seeing as Logan still sat with him in class, still studied with him when he was struggling as they got closer and closer to finals. He had even agreed to tutor Roman when his role in the winter show was threatened by a near failing grade in his math class - on the one condition that Roman was absolutely not allowed to flirt with him.

But Logan no longer talked about the stars in length, there wasn’t a spark in his eye as he explained something Patton could tell he knew a lot about, their interactions were less friendly and more like those that they had with the rest of their peers. Patton felt horrible knowing that he might have completely ruined their friendship.

Logan had decided the best way to deal with these feelings his friend had for him was to keep him and his partner at a safe distance.

He wasn’t completely willing to give Patton up - he was the first person outside of his own family to truly show him any sort of kindness since high school. He was too cold, too uptight, too tense, too cruel for simply not understanding what the people around him were feeling at any given moment.

But Logan had also been aware of what Patton and Roman must have wanted from him. A couple looking to add a third member - especially a couple that had been together as long as he knew they had been - was most likely only looking for a change in their sex life. He didn’t have a problem with them doing that, he respected their decision as a couple to do that, but that was not something he was able or willing to provide for them.

Logan had realized at a young age that sex was not something that held any interest to him. He decided for sure after a less than enjoyable attempt with his first boyfriend when he was sixteen. It wasn’t the worst thing he had ever experienced, it wasn’t near as bad as when he broke his arm as a child after falling from a tree while trying to identify a bird, but it was not something he had wanted to do again. He didn’t understand what his partner had found so appealing about it and had told him as much the day following. His partner had not taken kindly to Logan’s decision to not have that sort of relationship with him.

It was hard to forget the explosive breakup and vicious promise that Logan was destined to spend his life alone if he kept on about that. The same sentiment was shared by almost everyone he interacted with after they broke up. Word spread quickly and teenagers are relentlessly cruel to anyone who does not fit in, and Logan had not by any means.

He had grown to accept what his peers had displayed as a fact to him over the course of the previous three years. Logan was “broken” and, therefore, destined to be alone. To him, that meant less time spent trying to understand the emotions of the people around him. He didn’t need those sorts of close relationships, anyway, and he was happy to keep everyone at arm’s length.

It hadn’t seemed like Patton was content with that, though, and that had frustrated Logan to no end at times. He had tried to open up and that had led Patton and his partner to decide he was what they needed to make their private lives a little more interesting and Logan did not want to do that. Patton had taken to asking questions about Logan’s past, wanting to know about his childhood and his friends and the things he did outside of class and studying. Logan had kept his answers minimal, sure that when the semester ended and they were no longer required to interact, Patton’s pursuit would end.

That was not what happened. If anything, it had seemed as if his friend was trying even harder to spend time with Logan. Asking him over for dinner again, inviting him to study “parties”, begging him to go see Roman perform so that Patton didn’t have to sit alone. If Logan hadn’t started to feel something he couldn’t quite name towards his friends, it might have been easier to tell them no.

Logan had learned to quite enjoy his time with the couple during that second semester. Roman, despite being loud and argumentative at times, was actually quite sweet and much smarter than he let on. Logan was able to hold many conversations with Roman on many different subjects into the early hours of the morning as Patton laid across their laps and snored softly. And Logan did actually enjoy his dramatics from time to time, when it was appropriate. Or when it made Patton laugh.

Logan had wished he would be able to make Patton laugh as much as Roman did, but cherished every time he did. His laugh always made Logan’s chest tighten a bit with something that could only be described as longing for something he couldn’t have. The first time he had made Patton laugh had been when he had unintentionally made a pun, and the soft giggles it had earned him rang in Logan’s head for days afterward.

It finally all got to be too much - the feelings, the longing, the fact he couldn't be what they wanted - before spring break. Patton had been loosening Logan’s tie, telling him to relax while he made dinner before they started studying for midterms, and that smile and Roman’s teasing from the other side of the room had made him finally snap.

(”Yeah, stop acting like you’re going to Sunday mass every time you’re here, Lo, loosen up a bit,” Roman said, tapping his pencil on a textbook behind him.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough! You both need to stop. Immediately,” Logan bit out, voice sharp even as he gently swatted Patton’s hands away from the knot of his tie. “I am aware that the pair of you would like to make your relationship more interesting, that maybe it has grown plain, but I am not going to be a part of your… Relationship in that way. And if you want to continue a friendship of any sorts, then both of you need to cease any attempt to get that from me. I am not interested in sex. With anyone. Ever.”

Patton blinked up at him, a small frown on his face as he took in everything Logan said. “Aw, Lo, we wouldn’t try and get you to do anything like that if you didn’t want to. We’re not going to try and change your sexuality, it’s okay.”

“My what?”)

The three of them had abandoned their studies in favor of having a serious discussion instead. Patton worked on comforting Logan and reassuring him that they had never thought of doing something like just adding someone to their relationship solely for sex, while Roman found terms and labels that helped to describe what Logan might feel instead.

When Roman had read out the definition of asexual and then furthered the explanation of it as lack of sexual attraction or low or absent desire for sexual activity, Logan had actually cried from relief. That was him. That was how he felt. It didn’t stop as Roman had continued to discuss that sexual attraction and romantic attraction weren’t the same thing, that they weren’t tied into each other and that even if he didn’t feel any sexual attraction, he could still feel romantic attraction. If anything, it had made Logan cry more because maybe he wasn’t actually broken.

In his flurry of feeling more than he’d allowed himself to in years, Logan kissed Roman. It was the first thing that came into his head, the first thing that seemed like an adequate enough thank you for the elation Logan had been feeling in that moment. The kiss hadn’t lasted long, Logan had pulled back the moment he realized what he had done, but the second kiss of the night with Patton had lasted much longer.

Logan hadn’t realized just how much he’d denied himself by ignoring any sort of romantic feelings he had for Patton and Roman, but the other two seemed determined to show him that night, reassuring him that they were happy with whatever he was willing to give.

During the first year of their relationship, though, Logan still kept them at what he considered a safe distance for what they had. A relationship. He spent more time with them, he allowed them to be close, he kissed them when he felt like a moment required it. But he never came over uninvited, he tried not to initiate more intimate moments, he didn’t dare stay the night. He hadn’t wanted to risk getting too close to them and having them change their mind. Having them decide that they truly did want more out of a partner than he was able to give them.

It wasn’t until they had been together for a year that Logan really accepted that they were truly okay with it. They had given him flowers with a large key in the center of the bouquet, Patton’s idea, and a small envelope with a key inside.

(”What is this?” Logan asked, earning a giggle from Patton and a playful eye roll from Roman.

Patton moved to sit beside him and leaned against his side sweetly. “It’s a key. For here,” he told him as he tapped the small, dark blue heart they had painted on the key - presumedly with nail polish if Logan knew Roman at all.

“Why?”

“So you can move in!” Roman said excitedly. Logan gawked at him, surprised and maybe a little overwhelmed, which had his boyfriend practically tripping over himself to fix the situation. “You don’t have to share a room if you don’t want to! We have another bedroom! Or-- or, you can just have it and come over whenever and--”

“Roman,” Logan interrupted, voice a little watery despite himself. “Thank you.”)

Logan did not move in, but he did take advantage of the key by allowing himself to come over uninvited. It never seemed to bother his partners, even on nights where he came in late after tutoring sessions to earn extra money for his text books.

He kept his dorm room partially for his own sanity and partially because his scholarship required him to have one. Being required to have one gave him a place to retire on extremely late nights and somewhere to turn in the middle of the day when the trek to the apartment just wouldn’t be worth it. It also gave him somewhere to go when the noise and the excitement grew to be too much. Patton and Roman, though he loved them dearly, were a lot at times. Two constant balls of energy outweighing his own subdued nature. He needed a little room to breath and they were more than willing to give him that, even if it meant being apart.

The room remained necessary when Thomas came to New York for school and occasionally found himself seeking out Logan for assistance with school work or just life, at times. Where people typically saw his logical advice as ‘useless’ or ‘unfeeling’, Thomas took it and added what he needed and thanked Logan for helping him see things a little clearer.

Thomas found himself in Logan’s room to study or to relax, finding comfort in something that had traces of his brother around when he couldn’t trek across town to get to his apartment. Logan’s roommate, Remy, being there pretty often was nice, too, but definitely not the only reason he hung out in Logan’s dorm rather than his own.

Remy and Thomas had grown close in those days where Logan abandoned the dorm but Thomas didn’t, binge watching whatever they wanted and studying together and doing anything they could while young and free in the city. Thomas growing close to Remy meant him being around even when they weren’t hanging out on campus. It was only a matter of time before Roman and Patton loved their little brother’s new friend.

Life continued on like that. The older three of the five graduated and got jobs. Logan started graduate school and Thomas and Remy got an apartment together. Things stayed constant. Things stayed happy.

Their friend group grew a bit, though stayed mostly just the five of them.

Until Thomas became particularly good friends with a skittish young man in a theatre appreciation class.

Until Thomas introduced them to Virgil Casey.

“Do I really have to go with you? I--I mean, these are your friends, not mine and I don’t. Fuck, I dunno. I don’t like strangers, Thomas.”

To say Virgil was nervous about meeting Thomas’ brother and his boyfriends would be a severe understatement. It terrified him. If they were even half as active and excitable as Thomas was, he was going to be running out of the apartment before introductions were even over.

“They’re not really strangers. I’ve talked about them to you and talked about you to them. Therefore, you’re only really strangers through the technicality that you haven’t met in person yet,” Thomas reasoned, hooking their arms together as they started their way up the stairs.

Virgil blew out a sigh and did his best to relax with the touch. Thomas wasn’t going to bring him into any dangerous situations, Thomas wasn’t going to leave him there all alone to fend for himself. Thomas had probably even warned them that he didn’t exactly like loud noises or quick movements. Probably. He hoped.

Thomas continued chatting with him as they walked and Virgil focused on that rather than the anxiety he was feeling. Being around his friend was calming and it was nice to even say he had a friend, something he’d lacked for years before he moved to New York.

Thomas had been the first - and, really, so far only - person to get passed the shyness and the fright written on every inch of Virgil’s body and try to befriend him when they were sat next to each other in a theatre appreciation course.

It had taken almost all of that course and a slow process of talking in class and then studying together on campus for Virgil to relax with Thomas. Eventually, it stopped being just studying on campus and turned into hanging out. Despite their new found friendship, Virgil still had trouble accepting that Thomas really wasn’t going to try and hurt him or use him. Really, it had taken meeting Remy to finally convince him of the realness of their friendship. The way Thomas looked at him with all the love in the world, and the soft looks Remy gave him in return, was unlike any look he’d seen his parents give each other or that he'd had turned on him… It really showed Virgil that Thomas wasn’t like the people he’d run away from.

Even with knowing Thomas and knowing the kind of people in his circle, there was that bit of terror as they reached the door to his brother’s apartment. What kind of people lurked behind that door? What kind of relationship was hidden there? What kind of secrets were tucked away?

Apparently, a person that could be described as an absolute ray of sunshine was what lurked there. Sunshine pulled open the door pretty much the instant Thomas knocked on it and immediately pulled him into a hug. “Oh, I missed you so, so much!” Sunshine exclaimed, making Virgil jump at the sheer volume of it.

Thomas quickly hushed the hugger with a smile on his face as he returned the hug. “Pat, it’s been, like, two days since I saw you,” he reminded him with a little laugh. He pulled back and carefully grabbed Virgil’s shoulder, waiting for a small nod before Thomas looked back at Sunshine. “This is the friend I was telling you about, Virgil. Virgil, this is my brother, Patton.”

Sunshine - Patton - smiled impossibly wider at Virgil who shifted under the gaze. Patton was practically vibrating with what Virgil assumed was excitement. “Uh… Hi,” Virgil greeted, his voice quiet. If his words hadn’t been so short, his voice probably would have shaken. Meeting new people was never fun for him.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, Virgil. Thomas has told me a lot about you and you just seem like the sweetest little thing!” Patton looked like he was going to pinch Virgil’s cheeks in excitement. Virgil leaned away, a grimace covering his face. “Ah, right, sorry! I’m pretty loud sometimes but I’m just really, really, really excited to meet you. Don’t worry, I already told Roman that he’s gotta keep his voice at ground level.” Patton cracked a wide grin at the confused faces turned towards him. “Get it? Ground level? ‘Cause he’s gotta keep it down!”

Virgil cracked a little grin at that and nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Thanks,” he mumbled. He shifted for a moment, letting his eyes fall back towards the ground.

“Oh! How silly of me. Come on in, you guys. The gangs all here. Just a warning, Logan might try to talk your ear off a bit and if he gets to be too much, just politely tell him to stop and he will.” No worries about that, Virgil could never really tell anyone to do anything. He would just let them go on and on until-- Oh. That was a familiar face.

His old tutor - one Logan Patrick - sat on the sofa seemingly grading assignments with a red pen and, from what Virgil could tell, many, many notes. Logan was a big part in Virgil even being able to go to college and meet Thomas after tutoring him through his GED studies. And he hadn’t really changed at all in the time since Virgil had seen him, still the same button up and blue jeans with a tie to ‘make him look more professional’. Virgil had always thought that was ridiculous because he had never been given a reason to think Logan was anything less than professional. He never pushed boundaries, he offered support in a clear and concise manner, he had been the embodiment of something Virgil had needed in his life years before he got it. “Hey, Mr. Patrick,” Virgil greeted with a small wave. Whether it could actually be called a wave or not was up for debate considering his hand barely left his pocket, but that was about as good as it was going to get.

Logan glanced up from his papers with a surprised look on his face. “Oh, Virgil, how good to see you again,” he told him as he put the worksheets aside and stood, hand extended for Virgil to shake. Virgil shifted on his feet a moment before realization dawned on Logan. “Ah, right, you are averse to that. My apologies. I will simply, ah, wave, then.” Logan lifted his hand up by his shoulder and waved lightly.

Virgil chuckled a bit and nodded as Thomas bumped into his side, an unspoken question written across the look his friend gave him. “Uh, yeah. Mr. Patrick-- Er, Logan, he uh. He tutored me when I first moved to New York. I was workin’ on getting through my GED since Et-- Since I dropped out of high school, you know? Needed some help.”

Patton grinned brightly and wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist while Virgil spoke. “Logan is a fantastic teacher. I’m so glad he was able to help you out! I probably wouldn’t have managed to finish my degree without his help.”

“Yeah. Same. Don’t know where I’d be without him.” Probably back in that awful place he’d called home for years but Virgil didn’t want to dwell on that. It was a good day and that meant good thoughts only.

A somewhat uncomfortable quiet covered the four of them as they stood there. Logan was never good at casual conversation, Patton knew Virgil was nervous and didn’t want to push him, Thomas wanted Virgil to get to know his family without his own interference, and Virgil still did not like meeting new people. Sure, he knew Logan, but Patton was new and Patton was loud and he didn’t want to risk having that volume turned against him.

The silence disappeared as soon as the third member of the household came in from the kitchen, a bottle of wine in one hand and a dangerous amount of glasses in the other. Virgil was sure one of them was going to drop before Danger Man put them down on the table. “Alright! It is too quiet and you all are too tense so we are going to have a glass of wine and calm down so we can actua--” Danger Man fell quiet as his eyes landed on Virgil and something unfamiliar crossed the strangers face as his eyes went up and down Virgil. “Thomas told us he was bringing one of his nerdy science friends but I had no idea there could be two gorgeous nerdy scientists in one space.”

Patton chuckled at the unintentional pun and Virgil shrunk under the gaze. “Roman,” Thomas said, voice soft and familiar and grounding for Virgil, “I know this is a lot for you, but can you tone it down just a little?”

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners? Roman Prince, at your service, my dear,” he greeted as he bowed to take one of Virgil’s hands and-- immediately got smacked in the nose as Virgil scrambled to get away from the touch.

Patton blinked at the reaction, Roman whined, and Thomas and Logan seemed to have all their focus on Virgil. Virgil breathed slowly, deeply, taking a moment to count to ten and then back to one. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t malicious in the slightest and Virgil knew that. It was okay. “Sorry. Sorry, I--” Virgil pushed out before snapping his mouth shut. Apologies never worked. He should just accept whatever is going to come at him.

“Ah, no, don’t apologize. I should have asked before taking your hand,” Roman assured him as he rubbed his nose slightly. “It wasn’t even that hard! Nothing broken, nothing bruised, it is… Quite alright.”

Huh. An unexpected reaction but a welcome one all the same in Virgil’s opinion. He nodded and forced a small smile. “Yeah… Uh, wine?” Get back on topic and nothing can go wrong.

Mostly true, too. The rest of the afternoon went by with casual conversation and only a few moments where Virgil could feel the world crumbling in on him. Thomas being there helped Virgil from letting those moments truly crush him and there was just something about Patton that helped Virgil relax. It was all… Nice. It felt almost normal, too. Well, at least, it felt like what Virgil assumed was normal.

At the end of the afternoon, Virgil actually found himself able to give Patton a quick hug and Logan a small handshake. He just nodded at Roman, put off by the looks Roman had been throwing in his direction throughout the night. He knew what Roman wanted, that look always came with wants and demands, and he was afraid that getting too close would give Roman the opportunity to actually express that. Staying close to Thomas saved him from that for now.

“They were… Nice,” Virgil told Thomas quietly as they arrived back at the dorms after a silent trip.

Thomas smiled brightly and nodded. “See. I told you you’d like them,” he said, only a trace of smugness in his voice. Virgil huffed. Thomas had been right about that but… First impressions were always positive. It had been with him, too. The real question was: what was the next one going to be like?

With Patton cleaning up and Logan returning to his papers now that their guests were gone, Roman paced around the room on a rant. “Are we just not going to talk about how cute Thomas’ friend was? Or the fact that Logan already knew him and failed to inform us of how cute this man is? Or the fact that there is so much space in our bed and there is absolutely room for--”

“Roman, sweetheart, I love you,” Patton said to cut him off as he picked up the plates that covered their coffee table. “But what exactly are you talking about?”

Roman groaned and dropped onto the sofa besides Logan. It sent the worksheets Logan had stacked next to him toppling to the floor, which did nothing but make Logan annoyed as he moved to pick them up. “I’m talking about Virgil! And how absolutely amazing he is! He was quiet, yes, but that’s because he was nervous, I’m sure. He had such interesting things to say and he has such an amazing laugh and smile and hair and-- I could keep going, you know? I think… I think there is a discussion to be had here and neither of you seem even halfway willing to have it!”

“Well, Ro, it’s just-- We just met him and from what Thomas has told me - told us, we were all listening when he first told us about Virgil - he’s not interested in that sort of thing and it would be unfair to him for us to even think about trying.”

“I understand that, sunshine, but you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it might be like to try! Starlight, you’re with me, right?”

“No, Roman, I am not ‘with you’ on this,” Logan grumbled as he sat back on the sofa, carefully putting his papers on the table. “Virgil has been through things that you and I cannot even begin to comprehend. I do not even know the half of what he went through before he came to New York but I know enough to say that it was a horrible situation he was lucky to get away from. If he is uninterested in a relationship with someone - especially three someones - then we must respect that. I know that is hard for you to wrap your head around with the way you pursued me, but it is simply the facts. You must accept that there is a line here that you cannot cross.”

“Are you saying that you are unhappy with our relationship?”

“That-- That is not what I am saying and you know that,” Logan told him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am simply saying that I know how hard it is for you to give up when you have your mind and your heart set on something. I think that you need to… You need to back down on this for now.”

Roman huffed, slumping into the sofa unhappily when Patton sweetly patted the top of his head. “If it helps, neither of us have completely shot down the idea of another person! It’s something we’re open to. Just… Not with Virgil. Not right now,” he told him with the hope of getting him to be a little less pouty.

It didn’t work. If anything, it only made Roman pout more. If they were just as interested, why were they so unwilling to try? Roman wasn’t sure but he was sure that he was going to do something about this if it killed him.

Let the wooing commence.

The next time Virgil came over, Roman waited until Patton had dragged Logan off to the kitchen for help with carrying the food out and Thomas had disappeared to answer a call from their mom before he made his move. He couldn’t let them find out his little plot before Virgil was in the right mindset or they’d make him stop before he got anywhere and that just would not do!

“I have a surprise for you!” Roman told him, keeping his volume down but his excitement level up. Virgil blinked at him, seeming to shrink into the sofa at the sudden words spoken in his direction. Roman smiled widely at him and stood before he walked towards the closet in the room. As he dug around, he called out a quick, “Don’t look so scared! It’s nothing bad.”

When Roman reappeared in front of Virgil, it was with his hands behind his back and the same wide smile on his face. To anyone else, the smile might have felt nice or even charming but it just managed to put Virgil even more on edge. After a few beats of silence, Roman pulled his hands out from behind his back and showed off a small bouquet of flowers. It was mostly pretty petunias and colorful cosmos. Virgil stared at it like it was a personal attack against him. “They’re-- They’re flowers!” Roman told him, only faltering a moment at the way Virgil looked physically hurt at the sight of them.

“I-- Uh. What did I do wrong?” Virgil asked. His eyes flicked from the flowers to Roman and then he trained them on the floor.

Roman could see the other’s shoulders shaking and dropped the flowers onto the table before he moved to sit beside him, carefully placing his hand on Virgil’s knee. Virgil jerked it away on instinct before remembering, he’s supposed to welcome the touches from people who want things from him. Especially when he’s done something wrong.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, angel,” Roman assured him as he pulled his hand away. He didn’t want to scare Virgil any further.

“Cl-clearly, I’ve done something. You go-got me flowers.” Virgil’s voice shook as he spoke. He’d done more wrong shying away, he’d probably made Roman angry, Roman was probably going to--

“No, no, no. I got them because I saw them and they reminded me of you! They’re purple, like your hair! I thought-- I thought it would be nice.”

Virgil shook his head and looked sideways at Roman. “Just tell me. What did I do wrong?”

Roman blinked. He had already told Virgil that he’d done nothing wrong, why couldn’t he just believe that? What was so foreign about being given flowers just because to this guy? “Haven’t you ever gotten flowers? They were just at the store and they were pretty, like you, so I got you the flowers! Isn’t that nice?”

“I-- Yeah. Sorry,” Virgil mumbled, moving forward in an almost robotic motion to pick up the flowers from the table. It was what Roman expected, it was what Roman wanted. He should just keep his mouth shut and accept the flowers and over-analyze his own actions later. Virgil would figure out what he’d done wrong later and he’d deal with the consequences of those actions later. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman only frowned, ready to open his mouth and start spewing off more questions because that response was not the response of someone who really wanted to accept the flowers before Thomas came back into the room. “Mom wants to know when you guys are gonna invite her back up, as if she doesn’t already know that she can just come up whenever,” Thomas said, a pleasant smile on his face that dissipated as he took in the scene in front of him. “What did you do?” He asked as he moved to sit between Roman and Virgil, gently rubbing his friend’s back as he shook.

“I just… I got him flowers! I thought they were pretty!” Roman exclaimed, holding his hands up innocently.

Thomas raised a brow at Roman and nodded slightly, wrapping one of his arms slowly around Virgil’s shaking shoulders and pulling him close to offer quiet reassurances and talk through what happened, wanting to get Virgil’s side of the story on this one.

Roman was shooed away when Virgil glanced at him with wet eyes, the fear in them clear as day. Roman didn’t even really need to be asked, Thomas just started to look up at him and he stood to disappear down the hallway with the hope of being able to overhear some of the hushed conversation. He wasn’t that lucky, wasn’t able to find out just what he did wrong. The only thing he heard was Logan’s quiet goodbye and Patton’s cooing and promising to see Virgil again soon.

And then his name being called out by his partner, in that tone Roman always thought sounded like a parent about to scold their child. Patton didn’t use it on either of them often. Not unless they royally screwed up. And Roman had.

When he reentered the living room, Patton and Logan were sat on the couch - a terribly concealed look of disappointment on Logan’s face and a tired look on Patton’s as he waved Roman towards the chair across from him. It reminded him a bit of family dinners with his actual parents, though he didn’t feel near as much dread sitting in the seat across from his partners as he always did sitting across from Dick and Jane Prince.

“So… Sweetheart, you want to tell us what happened?” Patton asked, giving Roman a small, encouraging smile even as he tried to mask the disappointment in his voice.

Roman sighed slightly and kept his eyes trained on his feet. “I gave him flowers and then… And then he asked my what he did wrong? I get you two flowers all the time! So, I thought it would be a good way to try and bridge that gap with him and make him feel more comfortable.”

“And why would you do that after we explicitly told you not to?” Logan questioned. He never had any shame in hiding when he was upset, or trying to get straight to the root of the problem. “It was made clear to you that we are not interested in pursuing him at this time because he is clearly not interested in doing so.”

“Because you are interested in pursuing him! If we’re all interested, then what is the harm in showing him that we’re interested!” Roman defended with his arms crossed over his chest. “I had no idea that he was going to react like that or I would have chosen a different tactic but I am not going to sit idly by and wait for him to show us a sign that he might, maybe, possibly have an interest in any of us. I make plans and I make my interests known and I don’t see why you two can’t just trust me on this!”

“Roman. I am going to say this one more time and I need you to really, seriously take this in. Virgil has been through some terrible hardships at the hands of someone else. It is not your place to try and force him to have any amount of interest in you or me or Patton. It is your place to be his friend and that is all. If anything comes from that, then we will welcome it. But for now, there is a line that you are not allowed to cross. Doing this now is only going to hurt any possible relationship you have with Virgil, platonic or otherwise.”

Roman straightened out a bit and raised a hand to argue a frustrated ’but-’ leaving him before Logan lifted a finger and silenced him.

“I am not just looking out for Virgil, Roman. I am doing this for you, too. Because I love you and pushing this issue will undoubtedly lead to both of you getting hurt. I do not want that, nor do I want you to do something that you will regret,” Logan continued, calm and cool, before he waved his hand for Roman to join them on the sofa. Patton gladly moved to the side to allow Roman to sandwich between them, leaning heavily against his pouting boyfriend as Logan took his hand to complete the circle.

Roman relaxed in their embrace and tried to accept what Logan was saying. Even if it made Roman grumpy to admit, Logan was usually right. Except when it came to the definition of infinitesimal. But this was far from an infinitesimal issue and Roman had to approach it graciously. He’d have to apologize. Without flowers. He hoped Virgil likes chocolate...

Virgil leaned heavily against Thomas, still working through his breathing exercises even in the safety of his friends’ apartment surrounded by warm blankets. Fucking. Flowers. It had to be flowers, didn’t it? Something that used to make him smile, something he used to dream about getting.

Something that now made his chest tighten. Something that now made him feel sick to his stomach. Something that now made his mind reel with the sheer number of things he could have done to be given flowers.

(He’d settled with accidentally hitting Roman the first time they met. I’m sorry you reacted the way you did to my affection.)

Thomas continued to remind him that Roman didn’t know, but that Virgil’s reaction was still valid. Roman had no malintent but it was still okay for Virgil to be scared after everything he went through. Virgil knew better. He knew he wasn’t supposed to react to things with so much fear now. It was ridiculous, he was behaving like a child who was scared of the dark. Over flowers.

Thomas was quiet and soft in his comfort as he rubbed Virgil’s side and talked about where they were, the lights he could see outside the tiny apartment, the textures of the furniture around them, the sound of all the happenings around them.

The quiet was quickly and abruptly ended when the third member of their small group came in, practically kicking down the door as he carried in some precariously balanced coffees on top of a box of pizza. Virgil jumped at the noise of his friend and gripped Thomas’ shirt tightly before he managed to actually take in the sight before him.

Remy Mercier stood in front of them, clad in his typical sunglasses and leather jacket despite it being both night time and not exactly cool out, a smile on his face as if he’d just come in with the answers to all of Virgil’s problems.

“Alright, babes, I’ve got the answers!” Remy exclaimed, the smile not flickering even a bit as he set the pizza down - without knocking over any of the coffee by some miracle.

Thomas sighed and gazed at Remy with an overtly fond look that Virgil knew very well. The one that spilled all of Thomas’s best kept secrets without a single word and yet was still continuously missed by his closest friend. “The answers to what, Rem?” Thomas questioned, a single brow raised as Remy dropped onto the sofa next to Virgil.

Remy rolled his eyes as if the answer was obvious before returning Thomas’ fond look with one of his own. The fondness, the feelings, were a little better concealed by Remy but Virgil didn’t miss them. He’d learned to read people and their expressions quickly so that he could properly react to a situation. “The answers to this… Dilemma our Dark Roast Babe is dealing with,” Remy informed him as he started pulling the blanket off Virgil. Virgil whined indignantly at the loss of the warmth but stopped once Remy took the place of the blanket, having wrapped himself in it as he continued speaking. “The answer is to accept that shit fucking happens sometimes and if your brother and his boyfriends are even halfway decent people they’re not gonna give a fuck. The next answer is to eat some pizza, watch some movies, and remember who you are and where you are and how you, Virgil, got here.”

Thomas snorted, straightening out a little and deepening his voice to say, “Remember who you are, Simba.” His face remained serious for all of three seconds before he burst out laughing. The way Remy rolled his eyes at Thomas but still smiled actually did help Virgil relax. Even if that was a terrible joke.

“Guess that means we’re watching Lion King?” Virgil joked.

And it was a joke. It was. But Thomas was up on his feet before he even finished the question to dig around for the DVD. He knew it was there somewhere. Remy and Virgil shared a look for a moment before just laughing at Thomas’ antics. After a moment, Remy went to aid Thomas in his search - too close to his friend to actually be any real help - and Virgil was left alone, wrapped in his blanket burrito.

Virgil just watched, breathing slow and deep like he’d been taught, and just let himself relax as his friends started just tossing DVD cases through the room as they looked.

Virgil was lucky to have them.

Chocolates. Chocolates. A box of chocolates with a piece of paper attached to it that had nothing but a red, cursive ‘R’ and a little heart on it. Virgil knew he should have expected it - even though Thomas promised him that Roman really hadn’t meant anything with the flowers - but still it came as a surprise after a couple weeks of just bonding with the three of them. He’d let himself grow comfortable too quickly. Logan was familiar, Patton was sweet, and Roman had been keeping a safe distance after the flower incident.

Virgil had even started to come over alone. Their apartment had turned into another safe space outside of his small dorm room. Thomas and Remy’s apartment and the Terrific Trio’s (a nickname given by Remy upon his first encounter with them) apartment were the only places he felt like he could truly breathe.

And all it took to ruin that was a box of chocolates from Roman.

Virgil had seen the chocolates when he’d returned to his dorm room after a study session with Logan. Roman must have snuck them into his bag when they’d all eaten dinner and Roman had left to ‘use the restroom’. Lies, lies, lies. Virgil couldn’t stand them. His eyes had stung with tears as he processed the fact that they lied to him. They had lied. Roman had lied.

But, it didn’t matter that they lied. It didn’t matter that it hurt. It didn’t matter what Virgil thought or felt about the chocolates because he knew what they meant. He knew what Roman wanted and he could tough it out and get through it and deal with that breakdown later.

Virgil showed up at their place for movie night on Friday as requested - no Thomas or Remy to protect him from the inevitable - and knocked on the door. Patton greeted him but he didn’t really hear anything Patton said as he led him in, just a quiet buzz that he assumed was Patton speaking. He smiled and nodded a bit when Patton turned and gave him a look that made it seem like he’d just asked a question.

Apparently, that was the response Patton needed before he disappeared and left Virgil alone in the living room. Alone. Until Roman came. All it took was a hello and that same, charming, deceitful smile from Roman before Virgil tensed up. Breathe. You know what to do.

Virgil blew out a breath and took a few brave steps in Roman’s direction, pulling at the ends of his sleeves for a moment before looking up at Roman, all doe-eyes and innocence he’d perfected over the years. The only thing that ruined it was the shaking. He was out of practice after nearly two years away. “How… How do you wanna do this?” Virgil asked, angry at the way his voice was too quiet, too shaky. Roman was going to be upset with him.

“Uh,” Roman started, laughing a little uncomfortably. “I mean, we usually do this on the couch, so.”

Okay, okay, Virgil could do that. Patton and Logan might see but… But that was okay. They were Roman’s boyfriends, they probably knew this was going to happen.

Virgil stopped fiddling with his sleeves to pull off his jacket, carefully setting it over the edge of the chair before he approached Roman. He still couldn’t stop the shaking, but that was okay. Maybe Roman wouldn’t notice.

Roman noticed. He noticed the shaking and the way Virgil wouldn’t quite meet his eyes and the way he approached like this was a well-rehearsed routine of his. When Virgil snaked his arms around his neck and tried to pull him in, Roman stepped back and placed gentle hands on Virgil’s hips. “Woah, hey, Virgil, what are you doing?” He asked, concern written across his face.

“I’m… I’m giving you your gift. As a thank you,” Virgil told him with a scrunched, confused face.

“A thank you? A thank you for what? The chocolate?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded slowly, the confusion on his face slowly giving way to fear. Fear that Roman thought had no place on a face as innocent as that. “Virgil, Virgil, you don’t have-- You look so uncomfortable, why don’t you sit down?”

Virgil shook his head. “No. No, I’m fine. This is-- I know what I’m supposed to do. You gave me something so I give you me so we’re even. I want this to be fair.”

“Virgil, you don’t have to give me anything. I’m not asking for anything from you. I just wanted to give you something sweet because you deserve to be treated well.”

“I-- No, I don’t. I know how I’m supposed to be treated. Can we just-- Can we just get this over with, please?” Virgil asked, trying to pull Roman in again.

Roman moved his hands from Virgil’s hips to his shoulders, causing the other to freeze. Roman felt awful about the way Virgil seemed so afraid of what he might do but it made it easier for him to push the other backwards onto the sofa. Calling for Patton and Logan, Roman grabbed Virgil’s jacket and very slowly draped it over the other’s shoulders. The other immediately took the chance to curl the jacket around himself.

“Roman? What’s wrong?” Patton asked, rushing into the living room with Logan not far behind him. Roman gestured at Virgil panicking on the sofa and Patton quickly rushed to his side. Logan looked as if he was ready to start lecturing Roman for giving Virgil this level of stress once again, but stopped short when he saw the anxiety written across Roman’s own face.

Patton went to comfort Virgil with a gentle touch and some sweet words but pulled back when Virgil twitched away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, squeezing the jacket tightly. “I need a minute. I need a minute and then I’ll be ready. I-I’m sorry.”

Patton blinked, looking towards Logan and Roman across the room before he asked, “Ready for what, hun?”

“I--” Virgil paused, taking a deep breath. “Roman gave me chocolates and-and I need to thank him for that. I need to be ready to thank him, I just-- I need to calm down.”

Logan scrunched up his face, glancing at Roman who still looked anxious and confused. Clearly, whatever this was wasn’t something Roman had anticipated in the slightest. When Patton turned to look at them in search of answers, Logan simply shook his head. None of them knew what was going on.

“Virge, kiddo, what do you mean by that?” Patton asked, turning back towards Virgil with the sweetest smile he could possibly put on in this situation.

Virgil felt the blood slowly leave his face at the question. They wanted him to actually say it. They wanted to humiliate him and remind him just what he was good for. Virgil looked down at Patton’s feet and swallowed thickly before he glanced back up at Roman. “I was getting ready to let you fuck me,” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice flat and factual. He missed the mark by a mile, voice shaky and scared.

Patton made a surprised noise, covering his mouth with his hand. Logan looked shocked as his grip on Roman tightened slightly to keep his boyfriend from rushing forward. Roman looked absolutely horrified. The one among them who hardly allowed hands on his shoulders or quick hugs had just said he was going to allow Roman to fuck him. And he was going to allow it because Roman gave him chocolates. The whole idea was absurd. None of them quite knew how to react.

Roman was the first to speak, surprisingly. He shook the horror away and let the sadness he felt take over as he slumped against Logan. “Virgil… I would-- I know that’s not something you’re interested in with me and I would never make you do something like that. It was just a gift. The only thanks I need is to know that you’re happy with the gift. You don’t have to give anything in return for that,” he said, keeping his voice soft and quiet so he wouldn’t scare Virgil any further.

“That’s not true” Virgil mumbled, letting out a weak laugh. “I know you want something.”

Logan spoke up next, leading Roman to a seat as he moved across the room to sit beside Virgil. “He honestly does not, Virgil. If there is one thing I can promise you, it’s that. One hindrance that kept me from joining this relationship was my fear that they would ask something of me that I am unable to give. I am asexual and I was afraid that… That they would be interested in… In sex, with me, and as soon as I told them I was not interested, they assured me that they would never push me to give them something I did not want to. It would be the same for you,” Logan explained, his voice soft as his hand rested on Virgil’s knee.

Virgil moved away, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he grumbled. “I know how this works. You give someone something and you get something back from them, whatever you want. It’s that fucking simple. Your partner wants to have sex then you do. That’s it.”

And that hurt. It hurt Logan and it hurt Roman for his partner and it hurt Patton to think that Virgil could actually believe that. Logan retreated into himself as Roman jumped to his feet and began to rant about consent and sexuality and boundaries to the room, the sadness turning to annoyance in a snap to defend his partner.

Virgil shook. He kept his eyes down towards the floor and he nodded at Roman and he apologized so quietly it was hard for anyone to hear. He looked terrified and ready to bring his hands up to protect himself the moment he needed too. Roman didn’t notice, Logan didn’t notice. Luckily, Patton did.

Patton carefully grabbed Roman’s hand and led him back to his seat, hushing him in an instant before he went back to crouching in front of Virgil. He slowly, slowly brought his hands up to grab Virgil’s and bring his attention up from the ground and onto his face. “Vee, honey, you do know you’re allowed to say no to your partner, right? If you really, really don’t want to do something, you can say no and they should respect that. Your wants are important,” Patton explained, voice just as gentle as his touch.

Virgil scrunched up his face, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall out when he did. But he knew better, he knew not to cry. “No,” he mumbled shakily. “No, they’re not. Because-because if you want a relationship to work that means you need to do what they say, when they say it. It-- It means doing things even when you don’t want to so that they know you care. It’s how you show you l-love them.”

The room was deadly silent as the three processed what they just heard, their hearts broken at the thought of it. Several moments passed as they racked their brains to find something, anything to correct Virgil, to comfort Virgil.

“Virgil…” Logan started, cautiously “That is not the way a healthy relationship works. You-- You shouldn’t be expected to do something you don’t want to do. I have… I have never been asked to do something that is uncomfortable for me with these two. Not even once. I take it that you have.”

After a moment, Virgil nodded slowly. No point in lying to them now.

Patton leaned forward, hands tightening slightly around Virgil’s. “Oh, hunny, I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, voice shaking a bit as he tried his best not to cry.

Roman stood from his seat once again and moved to sit on the sofa next to Virgil. Beneath all the hurt, there was something burning in him that wanted to destroy whoever had hurt Virgil like this. But that wasn’t where his focus was right now. His focus was on trying to calm his partners, himself, and Virgil. “I… I would like to tell you that I will never expect something in return if I give you anything. And if I ever, ever put you in a position where you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you are more than welcome to tell me. You are more than welcome to tell me no,” Roman told him earnestly. “The last thing I want is to put you in a position where you feel obligated to do anything. And I am so incredibly sorry for putting you in that position now. While it was not my intention, it is my fault. Not yours. Not in the slightest.”

Virgil shook his head and took a shaky breath, ready to protest, but was cut off by Patton scooting closer and parting Virgil’s knees in the process. He was sure this was it, but was proven wrong when Patton only wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist and held on tightly. The breath Virgil had taken rushed out of him and he folded himself in half over Patton, finally allowing himself the relief of crying. Of holding onto someone else and letting himself feel the weight of all of this.

It didn’t take long for the other two to join them, Roman sliding to the floor to wrap himself around Patton’s middle and Logan doing his best to get a grip on all three of them.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, crying and holding onto each other. But, he knew by the time he fell asleep that they’d all ended up on the floor, covered in blankets, and they knew his story.

And that didn’t feel so bad.

After that night, growing close to the three boys over the following months came as easy to Virgil as breathing air.

Which is to say, it wasn’t always easy.

There were moments where Virgil would revert back to that same, scared kid because things like that happened. Things like that would always happen because of what he’d been put through. But, now, when that happened, it wasn’t just Thomas or Remy who had to try and figure out how to bring Virgil back into the real world.

When Virgil lost track of where and who he was, Patton would sit and tell him about the city’s lights, pointing out the apartment’s window as he did. Roman would describe the show he was currently rehearsing or sing to him something that the other thought he might enjoy. Logan would talk to him about classes and work and the mundane things that life held. When they were all together, the three would wrap him up in their arms and do what they could to protect him from the monsters that haunted him.

They knew his story and that made it that much easier to accept that what they told Virgil was true - none of them wanted to hurt him, all of them wanted to show that they cared about him.

Inevitably, Virgil started to grow… Feelings for them. He would stutter when Roman complimented him, his heart would skip a beat when Patton laughed, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face when Logan went on a tangent.

It was scary. Terrifying, even. It had been years since Virgil had allowed himself to think about a relationship in any way. Friendship had been hard to gain, and dating was a completely different beast that taunted Virgil.

What if everything changed when he made his feelings known? What if this had all been an elaborate act? What if they showed a different side of themselves when they got together? What if, what if, what if?

There were so many what ifs that ran through Virgil’s mind as those months passed. But, watching the group interact gave him the proof he needed to believe that these were not secretly awful people. Virgil was allowed to see glimpses of them that were private to the word outside the walls of that apartment. Logan breaking down from stress, Patton dealing with emotions he didn’t know the source of, Roman doubting himself after speaking with his parents. Each and every time, their partners did everything they could to make it better. Put away Logan’s books and made him sleep, wrapped Patton up in blankets and reminded him it was okay to be sad, told Roman that his parents had no influence on the wonderful adult he’d grown into.

Virgil trusted them with his everything, Virgil loved them completely.

And he told them as much. Granted, it wasn’t the way he had planned to do it, but he had. It had come up naturally while watching the three make him dinner for successfully completing his finals. Virgil had been laughing as Roman pouted about being denied access to the stove and it had just bubbled out.

(”Roman, you know what happened the last time we allowed you to be the one at the stovetop. You burnt rice. You cannot be in charge of the chicken,” Logan said, shaking his head with a small smile.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest, bottom lip pouting. “That was one time! And a different food. I think I can handle this.”

Patton rubbed Roman’s arm and kissed his cheeks. “We know you can’t, honey, and that’s okay!” He told him with a voice as sweet as sugar. But it only made Roman pout even more. Which made Virgil laugh. And laugh and laugh.

He wasn’t sure why he found it so funny, all he knew was the he felt light and wonderful and happy. A rare feeling for him. And something he hadn’t dared to say in years just slipped right out. “I love you. I really, really love you.”)

They had sat after that incident and talked for hours about what that meant, what Virgil needed from them to make him feel safe and comfortable with them, where the boundaries needed to be set. The three had taken all of that in, returning his affections with so much sincerity that Virgil had cried a few times throughout the evening.

Three became four and life seemed to be looking up. Virgil was moving on with his life, not allowing his past control him anymore.

For all of a month.

And then he came back.

“I just-- I thought I was finally getting somewhere with Remy and then he meets some guy at Starbucks and suddenly it’s all about him!” Thomas whined, throwing his hands up in defeat as he fell backwards onto the sofa.

Virgil chuckled at him with a small shake of his head. “You had to know he wasn’t going to wait forever, Thomas,” he told him, tossing a piece of popcorn at his friend and getting half-heartedly scolded by Logan for making a mess. “Besides, we all know Remy is madly in love with you and you are the only one who can’t see it.”

“He’s right, you know. We have all known since you started constantly crashing in Logan’s dorm instead of your own. You gushed and gushed about this ‘cool guy’ you met and then we met him and we could all see how painfully obvious his crush on you was. Except you. I tried to get you to ask him out then, but, no, I was crazy for suggesting such an outlandish idea,” Roman reminded him.

Virgil watched the two bicker back and forth, Patton soon joining in on teasing his little brother. With a fond look on his face, he leaned back into Logan and the other wrapped his arms around Virgil’s middle to hold him in a loose embrace. These nights were some of his favorites. The nights where they stayed in and ate pizza and watched movies and played together. It was such a stark difference from the last ‘relationship’ he’d been that it almost gave Virgil whiplash.

That didn’t scare him so much anymore. It reminded Virgil of all those relationships he’d seen in those cheesy teen movies that Roman had been shocked he hadn’t seen when he first started coming to movie nights. All smiles and sweet kisses and quiet conversations over the phone until Virgil fell asleep in his dorm and them waking up to the phone ringing in the middle of the night to calm him down after a nightmare. It was warm and comfortable and safe. Virgil loved it.

“That’s not even the point here, guys!” Thomas exclaimed, pulling Virgil out his thoughts as Logan tightened his arms around his waist to help keep his boyfriend calm with the raise in volume. “The point is that Remy’s boyfriend sucks and none of you will listen to me!”

“Does he actually suck or are you just a little bit jealous?” Roman teased with a little smirk.

Thomas huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “No! He is actually the worst. They’ve been dating for, like, three months now and-and I don’t know! Remy cancels plans with me now and will leave in the middle of plans we kept if he gets a text from his boyfriend. And I’ve never seen Remy even slightly scared of anything but he actually seems terrified of what Ethan might do if he doesn’t drop everything immediately to come be with him.”

Virgil’s mind came to a crashing halt. Did he hear that correctly? Did Thomas say-- It couldn’t be the same one. It was a commonHe was states away from that monster and he had been so careful about not letting anyone know where he was. Not that he truly had anyone to tell. So, it couldn’t be the same one, it just couldn’t.

“Have you talked to Remy about it?” Patton asked cautiously, wrapping a comforting arm around his little brother’s shoulders.

“I’ve tried to,” Thomas mumbled as he leaned into his brother’s side, “but every time I do, he brushes it off and says that I worry too much. Which usually I would agree with but… This Ethan guy gives me a bad vibe. And all I know about him is his name and whatever I could get from his FaceBook. I think it’s the last name. Too close to devil to be a good guy.”

“What? What was his name?” Virgil asked as he shot up straight, eyes wide with fear.

Thomas blinked at the question, confused about why Virgil would care about that one little detail. “It-- It’s Ethan DeVille, I think. Like Cruella DeVille. That’s the only reason I remember it. I-- Vee, are you okay?”

Virgil was far from okay, his breathing quickly becoming erratic as he stood up completely to gather his things from around the apartment. He ignored all the questions, all the concerned looks, all the gentle attempts to get him to sit back down with them and talk. Not right now. Right now, he needed to find Remy and help him before it was too late.

“I-I’ve got to go. I’ll call in the morning,” Virgil told them before he rushed out of the apartment. He stopped only briefly to call out an ‘I love you’ to all of them.

In the end, he was glad he had.

Because when he managed to get back to his dorm, there was a familiar face waiting for him, looking as calm as ever. Virgil knew what hid behind those dual-toned eyes and that gentle looking smile, though.

And before he could even think to run again, Ethan Deville had his arm in a bruising grip that Virgil did his best to try and get out of.

”I missed you, Virgil,” Ethan told him softly, though any ounce of sweetness on his face completely gone. “I think it’s time we go home now, don’t you? You wouldn’t want that dear friend of yours to get lonely, would you?”

Virgil froze. “What did you do to him? What did you do to Remy?”

Ethan smirked smugly and yanked Virgil close. “Oh, nothing yet, my dear. And it can stay that way as long as you listen to me. Do you think you can handle that this time? Or am I going to need to teach you a lesson? I sure would hate to have to hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong,” he whispered.

Any fight Virgil possibly had left in him melted away. He wouldn’t dare put someone he cared about in danger. Virgil gave Ethan a small nod, heart pounding in his chest as Ethan laughed at him.

“Good. Leave your phone. It’s time to go.”

The house Ethan pulled up to looked almost cozy.

It was in a line of similar looking homes, simple two-floored homes with white picket fences surrounding the tidy looking lawns. Virgil could see the rose bushes planted in front of the porch and wondered how much it was going to hurt when he ‘tripped’ off the porch into them. There were no lights on despite the late hour and Virgil hoped that Remy had gotten out of there, had managed to slip out while Ethan was gone and run to safety. It was unlikely, but Virgil could still hope. At least for a little while.

Ethan pulled open Virgil’s door, ever the charmer when there was a possibility that someone could be watching them, and kissed Virgil when he climbed out. Virgil pushed on his perfectly practiced smile as he slipped his hand into Ethan’s. His stomach rolled as Ethan gave him another quick kiss, holding Virgil’s hand so tightly it hurt.

It scared Virgil how easy it was to fall back into those long unused practices. He showed no visible signs of discomfort or panic because he wasn’t allowed to feel those emotions, not anymore.

The house was quiet when Ethan led him in, locking the door behind them. Virgil counted the locks silently. Three. Three different locks. Keys needed for two of them. Ethan would never leave those keys alone, Virgil would never get out of here unless Ethan wanted him out.

“Sit,” Ethan commanded, pointing to the couch without even looking at him. Not that he needed to. Virgil knew how to listen. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? Are you really that stupid?”

Virgil swallowed and hugged himself tightly. “N-no, of course not, Ethan. I… I didn’t plan to be gone that long, I--”

“You didn’t plan to be gone that long? Three years, Virgil. Three. Years. It’s laughable, really, that you think I would believe that. I know you thought you could get away from me. It’s cute,” Ethan said, laughing a bit flatly.

Virgil knew what came after that laugh but there was still that feeling of shock when Ethan’s fist made contact with his face. Tears filled his eyes as the pain blossomed over his cheek and his hands came up to protect him from further injury, giving Ethan the opportunity to grab his wrist and yank him up. “Don’t you dare act like I’m that stupid again, do you understand me?”

“Ye-yes, I’m sorry,” Virgil mumbled, choking back tears as he nodded at Ethan.

“Good. You have a lot to make up for. That idiot told me, you know. Told me about those boys and how happy they made you. You should consider yourself lucky I took the moron instead of one of them. I would not have been so merciful to them.”

Virgil was quiet for a moment before asking a very cautious, “can I see him?”

“You want to see him?” Ethan repeated, chuckling darkly before he pushed Virgil back onto the sofa. “Sure. Why not? But first…” He played with the zipper on Virgil’s jacket a moment and Virgil’s mind kicked into gear, reminding him what to do.

Ethan was going to give him something he wanted, but first, Virgil had to thank him for it.

Virgil went into auto-pilot, moving through the whole experience like an actor who’d been performing the same role for years. He didn’t cry, he reacted the way Ethan always wanted him to, he didn’t flinch away from harsh hands on him. A perfect performance from someone who has been taught how to act.

When Ethan was finished, Virgil sat still on the sofa and did his best not to pick at his skin. There was the need to separate the person who went through that and the person he had become over the last three years, but he couldn’t wash this all away with Ethan standing right there.

“Oh, I missed that. Not your best, of course, but I’ll forgive you just this once. You’re out of practice after all that time away,” Ethan said, smiling softly at Virgil for a moment as he buttoned up his shirt. Things were always better for a short amount of time after, Virgil remembered. A very short time, it seemed. When Ethan finished dressing, he grabbed Virgil’s face harshly and forced the smaller man to look him in the face. “However, if you intend to keep making these… Silly requests, I will expect much better of you in the future. Do I make myself clear?” Virgil nodded slowly, silently and Ethan grinned at him like a cheshire cat. “Good. Now, get dressed. Leave the hoodie, we need to be sure the dummy understands just what you’re saving him from.”

Virgil obeyed quickly and quietly, not questioning Ethan allowing Remy to see the bruises forming over his skin. He could rescind his offer to allow Virgil to see his friend and all Virgil wanted to do was make sure that Remy was alive and well. Ethan led him upstairs when he finished dressing, unlocking a door - just a twisting lock on the outside, Virgil would have to remember that, he wouldn’t need permission to visit if he snuck away in the night - and pushing it open for Virgil.

When Virgil laid his eyes on Remy, he nearly cried. He could see the rise and fall of his sleeping friend’s chest. Alive, check. Well, however, did not get a check. Virgil could see the bruises on Remy’s wrists in the shape of hands that squeezed too tightly, bruises on his cheek from sharp smacks. He could only hope there was nothing hiding under Remy’s clothes.

“I thought you said you hadn’t done anything to him,” Virgil said, voice weak as he approached the bed.

Ethan snorted. “I didn’t do anything to him. He did it to himself. The moron kept trying to get help, kept trying to get out, kept being too loud. I needed to teach him a lesson.” The man paused, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. “Do I need to teach you a lesson about questioning me or are you finished?”

Virgil glanced back at him and apologized quietly. He knew he’d pay for it later either way, but he knew a quick apology would still allow him the time to speak to Remy.

“Good boy,” Ethan murmured, pushing away from the doorframe. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.”

With that, Ethan left, leaving the door wide open. If it weren’t the second floor, Virgil would try and convince Remy to get out through the window. Ethan had what he wanted now, he wouldn’t chase after Remy. But Virgil wasn’t going to risk the possibility of Remy getting hurt more than he already was. He’d figure out another way to save his friend from this hell.

Carefully, Virgil reached out a touched Remy’s arm to wake him. The few times he had had to wake Remy up in the past, it had taken minutes of shaking and shouting to get him to so much as grumble at him. This time, Remy was up as soon as his fingertips made contact and the usually rough and tough man put his hands over his face and started muttering rapid apologies for anything that came to mind.

“Remy, Rem, it’s me, it’s Virgil,” he assured him, gently taking Remy’s hands in his to pull them down and allow the other to see his face. “It’s just me. Ethan went downstairs, he’s not going to hurt you anymore. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

For a moment, a look of utter relief crossed Remy’s face. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Virgil smiled, wincing at the pressure that put on his bruising cheek, and the relief disappeared. “No, no, no, no,” Remy muttered, sliding his hands out of Virgil’s to pull at his own hair. “He said— I thought—“

“Whatever it was, he lied. He— It’s something he does a lot,” Virgil said quietly. He had discussed that with his therapist a couple times since he started seeing him a few months back. Ethan had lied to Virgil and he was going to continue that cycle.

“He promised. He promised that he’d leave you all alone as long as I— Where is everyone else? Are they okay?”

Virgil pulled at the hem of his shirt and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “They’re okay,” he assured him softly as he reached back for Remy’s hand so he could examine the bruises around his wrist. “Probably in bed by now. He was… Waiting for me in my dorm.” Guilt covered Remy’s face in an instant that Virgil missed, focused on the bruises on Remy’s wrist. “I think these are gonna be okay. Nothing broken as far as I can tell. They’re going to heal and then you’ll be done with all this, okay? He’s not— It’s not going to happen to you anymore.”

Remy looked confused for a moment before the realization came. “Vee, no, you can’t. I can take it,” he told him with a wobbly voice. Remy had no shame in crying, didn’t try and hide the tears from him and Virgil marked that as a good sign. Ethan hadn’t completely destroyed the person he knew yet.

“I can. I’ve done it before. This is- this is what I ran away from. But I know how to handle it, I know how to handle Ethan.”

“Please, don—“

The begging was cut off by a glass shattering against the wall in the tiny bedroom. Ethan stood in the doorway, laughing at the way the two of them had jumped. Virgil was back up on his feet and standing in front of Remy to keep him out of sight. “Time’s up, boys.”

Remy snapped his hand out and grabbed the back of Virgil’s shirt. No, he wasn’t ready to let go, he wasn’t ready to be alone again, not yet, not yet, not yet. Virgil stumbled just enough to find himself sitting on the edge of the bed, fear filling him from the unintended disobedience.

Ethan snarled, storming into the room and grabbing Virgil by the hair to yank him up. A pained noise left Virgil’s mouth and earned him a hard smack across the face. “You should know better,” the man snarled, pulling hard at Virgil’s hair. “Do I need to teach the idiot a lesson on your behalf?”

“No, no! I’m sorry, I’ll be good— I’m sorry, please, don’t,” Virgil begged as he grabbed Ethan’s arm in an attempt to ease the pain of the pulling. “I’ll make it up to you, I’m sorry.”

“You bet your ass you will. Let’s go,” Ethan growled while he tossed Virgil in the direction of the door by his hair before he let go. Virgil didn’t dare make a peep about the pain this time and just rubbed the top of his head. He glanced back towards Remy and gave the crying boy a little nod.

A silent promise to save him before it was too late.

It didn’t take long for the others to realize something terrible had happened to Remy and Virgil.

Remy had missed a coffee ‘date’ with Thomas without so much as a text or a note left on the counter for him to find. Even since meeting Ethan, Remy was decent enough to tell Thomas he wasn’t going to be able to make their plans work, Ethan wanted to do this or Ethan wanted to do that.

And Virgil never called that morning. If there was one thing they all could count on, it was that Virgil kept his word without fail. As morning turned to afternoon, the level of anxiety in the tiny apartment quickly grew until Logan suggested, in the calmest tone he could muster, that they go check his dorm room. He must have been up late, he must have overslept.

Patton didn’t have the heart to tell him that if Virgil hadn’t slept, he would have called them in the middle of the night.

Their fears were confirmed when they reached Virgil’s dorm to find his door cracked open and his phone discarded on the bed, notifications of all their missed calls listed on the screen. On the tiny desk, there was a note that read ‘don’t look for me’ in handwriting that didn’t match anything else scattered on the desk.

“Virgil wouldn’t write this. If he— If he wanted to leave, he would have told us, right? He wouldn’t have just left,” Patton muttered, hands shaking as he picked up the piece of paper. “Vee seemed so happy last night, he wouldn’t—“

Logan nodded. They had to believe that that was the truth for their own sake, even if the idea that Virgil would just run away from them nagged at the back of his mind.

Roman, on the other hand, shook his head. “No, he wasn’t happy. You saw the way he stormed out last night! He clearly was not happy and planned to just break our hearts by getting us to love him and then abandon us for no—“

“You know as well as I do that that is not true,” Logan cut in, keeping his voice as flat as he could. “After everything Virgil went through, he would not have planned to hurt us this way. And he did not leave angry with us. He left feeling anxious. What were we talking about before Virgil left?”

“Thomas… Thomas was talking about Remy’s boyfriend. Ethan.. De-something,” Patton supplied as he wiped his wet cheeks. When had he started crying?

“DeVille,” Roman told them. “Like Cruella. Thomas said that was how he remembered. Cruella DeVille, Ethan DeVille.”

Logan nodded once more. “Why would a name like that cause him to panic like that? Do you know if he has mentioned anyone by that name?” The other two shook their heads and it was quiet for a moment as they all racked their brains for answers. “Do you think—“

“Could it be—“

“His old boyfriend.” Logan and Roman snapped their mouths shut and turned to Patton, surprised and waiting for an explanation. “Vee— He only mentioned it one time, I almost forgot. I asked him if he wanted to watch 101 Dalmatians - I think… I think you guys were gone, picking up dinner or something - and he said no. And he’d look so scared and— I asked him why and he told me. He told me his ex-boyfriends name. And I forgot. I should’ve— I didn’t even think—“

“Patton, darling, breathe,” Logan reminded him softly, grabbing Patton’s hand before he could go spinning down the rabbit hole. “I know you are about to blame yourself for this, but it is not your fault. There would be no reason for you to try and remember that as we believed that this man was still in Florida, states away from Virgil. We believed that Virgil was safe. That may not be the case now. We need to call Thomas. Do you want to talk to him or would you like me to?”

Patton sucked in a shaky breath and nodded along with Logan. Logan was right, he knew that, but that didn’t keep him from thinking he should have filed ‘Ethan DeVille’ under ‘things that need to be remembered quickly’. “You can talk to him. I-- You’re better at thinking things through, you’ll know what to say. I’ll probably just cry,” he told him, sniffling.

“And there is no shame in that. Roman? Why don’t you take Patton to go get something to eat?” Roman started to protest, to insist that they needed to stick together right now, but a stern look from Logan had him closing his mouth and nodding. It was better to distract Patton and they both knew it. “I’ll meet you at the cafe just down the street, alright? I love you both.”

Patton and Roman gave similar sentiments along with soft kisses before Roman led Patton out. Logan sighed, dropping onto Virgil’s bed and finally allowing himself to take in the space Virgil lived in. It was tiny, cramped, but everything was tidy, save for the desk. The bed was made neatly, all his clothes hung in the closet or put away somewhere. There weren’t many personal things throughout, just a backpack on the floor next to the bed. It did seem as if Virgil was ready to throw his things into a bag and skip town at any given moment. The only thing saving Logan from actually believing that was the framed photo on top of the dresser. A picture of the four of them a few weeks after Virgil had first told them his story. Roman had insisted they take Virgil to see the Statue of Liberty and demanded they at least take one picture. Virgil had gone through the effort of printing the picture and framing it when it could have just been set as the lockscreen on his phone. He wouldn’t leave of his own free will without telling them.

Logan took a deep breath to pull him out of his thoughts, pulling out his phone and dialing Thomas’ number. Surprisingly, Thomas picked up on the first ring, with a panicked, “Logan! I was just about to call you, Remy-- He hasn’t been at the apartment in days and I thought he was just… I don’t know, avoiding me because the last time we talked I told him I really didn’t like Ethan and--”

“Thomas,” Logan cut in, having to try a couple times to actually get Thomas to stop talking. “I think I know why Remy hasn’t been answering your calls. But I’m going to preface this with telling you that Patton is going to need you. And I know that whatever comes next is going to be… Difficult but we will get through. You, me, Roman, and Patton.”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Logan blew out a shaky breath. “We-- Virgil is missing. Or, we believe so. We also believe that it was Ethan who took him. Ethan DeVille is Virgil’s ex-boyfriend,” he explained, listening as Thomas’ breath quickly grew shaky on the other end of the phone. “It is possible that Ethan also has Remy. That he… He took him. And I know that is-- That is a terrifying thing to consider but we must consider it regardless. I--”

The shaky breathing on the line quickly turned to tears and Logan decided that maybe this was a conversation they should have had in person. He couldn’t comfort Thomas at this distance. “I should have said something sooner, right? This is my fault! I should have told you what I knew and then you could’ve helped him sooner and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“That is not true. There is no way you could have known any of this was going to happen and you will not blame yourself for it. What you will do is meet us at the police station in an hour, alright? There is plenty of time to get them help. There is plenty of time to save them.”

Thomas didn’t speak for a moment but Logan could picture him working to get his breathing under control and tapping out his counting on his leg. “Okay. I can-- I can do that. I’ll meet you there in an hour,” he agreed after a couple minutes.

“Okay, that’s good. Thomas? Be careful. Everything is going to be okay, I promise,” Logan assured him softly before they said their respective goodbyes and hung up.

Logan breathed slowly.

He wasn’t sure he should have made that promise. There was no way to know that for sure. When they reached the station and were met with Officer Anton Mann, Logan realized he may have broken his promise already.

“You said he’s only been gone since last night. There’s nothing we can do to help you sir, sounds to me like he just had a fun night out on the town,” the officer told them, clearly disinterested in their plight. Anton was turned away from them and typing something on the computer in front of him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Logan could see the reflection on the officer’s sunglasses revealing that he was on Twitter, he might have actually believed he was typing out a report.

Logan glared at him, hands on the counter curled into tight fists as he tried to keep his composure as he spoke. “I also told you that he ran away from an obsessed, abusive ex-boyfriend three years ago and has been running from him since.”

“Doesn’t sound like he ran very well if he stayed in one place for three years,” Anton said, shrugging a little bit as he clucked his tongue at them.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was the one that made Patton cry and latch on to his brother and the one that made Roman step forward with fury in his eyes and the one that made Logan finally lose his cool.

“Sir! My boyfriend and my friend are in trouble, do you not understand that? You are causing my partners great distress by acting so flippant about this! You are causing someone I call my brother great distress. I am not going to sit by and allow you to do this. You are going to write this up and you are going to help us because that is your job! Why the hell are you behaving as if it isn’t?”

Anton simply raised a brow at the group of him and rolled his eyes as he spotted Patton sniffling into Thomas’ chest. “Probably because you’re definitely overreacting,” he said flatly.

Roman looked ready to throw a punch or seven when another officer joined Anton behind the desk and placed a hand on the rude man’s shoulder. “Doesn’t sound like they’re overreacting to me,” he said, a brow cocked and his head tilted to the side.

This officer was joined by another who started to pull Anton from his seat and push him aside as he said, “yeah, this sounds like an actual issue to me, right, Prokras?” The other nodded and let go of Anton to allow his partner to push Mann out of the way. “Right! Okay, so, if I heard correctly, you three having a missing boyfriend and you have a missing roommate and you think they were both taken by the missing boyfriend’s abusive ex,” the newest officer said, dropping into the seat and typing away before looking at Logan for confirmation.

Logan simply blinked, confusion covering his face for a moment before he managed to shake himself together. “I— Who are you two?”

“Besides the officers who are taking your case, you mean?” The officer behind the desk asked and Logan nodded. “Guess I did just skip right over the introduction part, huh. I’m Officer Percy M. Genta and this dashing gentleman behind me is my partner, Officer Nate T. Prokras. You can call us by our first names or our last names or just Officer will do, but I get a feeling we’re going to be spending quite a bit of time together while we work on this so I’m fine with skipping passed the awkward stage of calling everyone by their fancy titles. Now. Who are all of you?”

Roman stepped forward to save Logan from his awkward, confused spluttering with only a slight glare in his own face. “I’m Roman Prince. These are my partners, Logan Patrick and Patton Hart. And the one holding Patton is his younger brother, Thomas. Thomas’ best friend, Remy Mercier, is missing, along with our fourth partner, Virgil Casey,” he told him, answering the first question Percy had asked in addition to introducing all of them.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Roman. Hm… Maybe nice isn’t the right word. These are pretty unfortunate circumstances to be meeting under. But, not to worry. If you’ll follow us, we’ll talk through everything you know as of now and we can get started on finding your loved ones, alright?” Percy said, a small and sympathetic smile crossing his face.

Roman took Logan’s hand and glanced back at Patton and Thomas, as if he was waiting for some kind of confirmation that they trusted these two to take the case for them. As if they had another choice. Patton sniffled and straightened himself out by pulling away from his brother and tugging on his sweater before he nodded seriously. A nod from Thomas quickly followed and Roman looked back at the pair of officers in front of him. “Lead the way.”

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks in this hell and Virgil felt like he’d never left it in the first place. The routines were so easy to fall back into. Yes, Ethan. No, Ethan. I’m sorry, Ethan. Please don’t, Ethan. I know, Ethan. The only thing that kept him from completely surrendering to the way things were, the way things always had been, was that locked door across the hall from Ethan’s bedroom.

Remy was behind it. Remy was suffering. Remy didn’t deserve this, not like Virgil did. Virgil had run away and Virgil had made Ethan angry and Remy had just been connected with the wrong person. Virgil had gotten him into this mess and he was going to get him out.

There weren’t many opportunities to see him, but Virgil decided maybe that wasn’t the worst thing. Not seeing him meant that Ethan wasn’t hurting him, that Virgil was doing good and protecting his friend. But, still, it made Virgil anxious.

He didn’t know if Remy was getting food or getting water or how his bruises were healing. He didn’t know how Remy was feeling. He did know that his friend probably wasn’t feeling anything close to okay, but he still needed to really know.

So, Virgil made a plan. Ethan was on a schedule, a consistent schedule that almost never changed. They were up by six in the morning and Virgil made him breakfast. Then they had sex and Virgil did all he could to make Ethan happy. Then Ethan had whatever fun he wanted out of Virgil before he went to work. Virgil did laundry and looked out the window and wished for someone to come save them before he made Ethan lunch. Ethan came home for his break, angry and annoyed, and took it out on Virgil before he ate and drank and went back to work. Virgil cleaned his wounds and made sure the house was spotless before Ethan came back. Dinner, more drinks, more sex, more beatings, then in bed by ten.

It was consistent and unchanging. Considering how intense Ethan could be, Virgil was grateful that he could at least tell what was going to come next because it made finding time to sneak away and see Remy easier.

The first week, Virgil had to relearn the schedule, relearn how Ethan slept and how heavy of a sleeper he was. How despite being a possessive man, Ethan didn’t want to hold Virgil at night to ensure he wasn’t going to leave again. Virgil didn’t know where the keys were, there was no getting out.

The second week was just building the courage to sneak away, to break the rules, to risk his little bubble of safety to check on his friend. Virgil started small, just leaving the bed and walking around the room for a bit before he went and laid back down, just to make sure Ethan wouldn’t wake with the movement. Then he got bolder by leaving the room, walking down the hall and listening for any sign that the man in the bed was waking. Then it was going to the kitchen, searching for small things that wouldn’t cause a big problem when Virgil added them to the grocery list. Then it was just a night of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he needed to see Remy again, he needed to ensure that his friend was okay.

It was day seventeen before Virgil actually managed to get himself to do it. To sneak out and see Remy without asking permission.

He left the bed around one in the morning after staring at the ceiling for three hours looking for a sign that this would all work out. No such sign came but Virgil went with his gut anyway, sneaking down to the kitchen to gather the food he’d tucked away there.

He had hidden away a few days worth of water bottles and small foods like granola bars, slices of bread and cereal in baggies, and cans of fruit with the pull tabs. It wasn’t much, but it was what he was sure he could pass off as things he’d eaten while Ethan wasn’t home if he was questioned about it. As long as Remy hid whatever trash there was until Virgil could come take it away, there wouldn’t be an issue. There wouldn’t be an issue.

The lock to Remy’s room was quiet as Virgil turned it and the door hardly made a noise when he pushed it open. Remy was on the floor in front of the window, staring out at the moon like it would provide all the answers he needed. Virgil remembered doing the same thing the first few times Ethan had left him alone in a locked room for days, begging for the moon to grant him an explanation for why he was being treated the way he was. The answer never came and Virgil had decided on his own. He deserved the way he was treated.

“Remy,” Virgil whispered, quietly closing the door behind him. Despite the soft tone, Remy still jumped when Virgil spoke and Virgil just pushed on a soft smile as he moved to sit beside his friend. Remy looked… Better. The bruises Virgil had seen that first night were nearly gone, but they’d been joined by a dark, purple, swollen black eye. “I didn’t even know he came to see you,” he mumbled, reaching up to carefully touch the sensitive bruise.

Remy pulled his face away and turned back to the moon. “The other night. He brought me something to eat. I— I asked if I could see you again because I haven’t seen you since— He didn’t like me asking for things,” he muttered, frowning at the moon. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“I would never forget about you, Rem, I just… It’s hard to ask for things from him. And even if I did, I don’t think he’d say I’ve been doing good enough.” Virgil shook his head, pulling the pillowcase full of food towards them. “I’ve been getting this together the last couple days. Stuff you can open and eat with just your hands. It should get you through the next couple of days, I think. There’s water bottles, too. You can refill them in the sink in the bathroom if you want. If you don’t, I can—“

Virgil was cut off by Remy wrapping an arm around his waist and holding on loosely. It only stung the bruises there a little bit, Virgil was used to much tighter grips on his bruises anyway. “I’m sorry,” Remy told him. His voice was soft and shaky and so reserved, Virgil almost didn’t hear it.

When he turned to look at his quiet friend, he found that the other had started crying. Good. That was a good sign, Virgil reminded himself before he brought a shaky hand to wipe at Remy’s cheek as he asked a quiet, “why?”

“Be-because you’re here because of me. I-- Ethan told me you were friends and I believed that. And when he asked me for your address, I gave it to him because I-I’m a fucking moron and I thought he-he was going to send you a letter or some shit. And I’m so fucking stupid for believing you would ever--”

“Remy.” Virgil very carefully pulled Remy off of him, cupping the other’s cheeks to keep his attention on him. “There was no way you could have known. And-and Ethan, he-- He has always been good at manipulating people to believe what he wants them to believe. He did it with me, he did it with our neighbors, he did it with you. It is not your fault. I should’ve-- I should’ve told you more about my past. But… But we can’t undo it now. I can’t undo it now. But I’m going to help. I’m going to get you out.”

Remy laughed weakly, shaking his head. “How?” He asked quietly, voice filled with utter defeat. That, Virgil decided, was not as good of a sign as the crying had been. Virgil didn’t want someone who would have kicked down doors and thrown fists to deal with someone else’s demons to seem even a little defeated.

“I don’t know yet,” he told him honestly. “I don’t know, but I’m going to get you out of here and I’m going to get you home. I’m going to get you to Thomas, okay? He’s been so worried about you, you know? It’s cute. He-- He still insists he doesn’t like you but we know better. We all know better. He’ll be so relieved to see you.”

“I miss him. I miss him but… What if-- What if this makes everything different?”

“Take it from me, it’s going to be different. It’s going to be different and it’s going to be scary and-- And you might not trust what you see but you can trust what you know. Thomas is… He’s too good to do anything but love you. He was the first person I really trusted after that whole thing, remember? You know you can trust him. He’ll follow your lead on this, whatever you need.”

Remy was quiet for a moment before he nodded, wiping at his cheeks as he pulled away from Virgil. “You’re right. You’re right,” he agreed softly, letting his eyes turn back to the moon. “He comes every couple days with food. You didn’t… Need to bring me anything.”

“Every couple days isn’t good enough. Even I get to eat every day and I-- Not the point. I’ll bring more in a couple days. I’m gonna come check on you more, now,” Virgil promised. “I know I can get away with it, now. So… So, don’t worry about me. I’m doing okay. Don’t ask him to see me again, okay? Just… Just let him bring the food and leave. Please?”

There was a beat and then Remy nodded again with a quiet thank you falling from his mouth. Virgil nodded in return, leaning back against Remy’s side and closing his eyes. If he didn’t think too much, Virgil could almost imagine they were back at the apartment, watching movies and relaxing, and that the moment of peace was going to be ruined by nothing other than Thomas running in while he sang some Broadway song at the top of his lungs.

But, Virgil was never good at under-thinking things and soon found himself giving Remy a tight hug before he went back out into the hall. It hurt to lock Remy back in but they’d both be at risk if Ethan were to find out Virgil had snuck away in the night.

It was time to get back to reality.

Three weeks.

Three weeks and they had found nothing.

Roman had spent three weeks watching his little family try to pretend they weren’t losing their minds the more time passed without news from Nate and Percy.

Logan had thrown himself into his work more than usual, something Roman wasn’t so sure was even possible. If they weren’t sleeping or at the station, Logan was at the school or working on grading assignments or creating new and exciting things for his students to do just to keep his mind off of things.

Patton was doing his best to stay positive, or at least that was the image he was trying to keep up but Roman had known him for far too long and was able to see right through the act. Patton worked and Patton cleaned and Patton smiled and Patton assured the rest of them that everything was going to be okay but Patton cried at night when he thought the other two were asleep and Patton shook when they were faced with more nothingness and Patton worried and worried and worried.

Thomas, Roman believed, was having the most realistic reaction to all of this. He had sat with his advisor and pushed off his classes for a semester, had decided that he needed to process what was happening and not try too hard to split his life into the parts where he stressed about what was going on and where he worked himself to the bone to pass his classes. But Thomas was also trying to stay strong for his brother. He saw what Roman saw, the fragility of Patton, and did what he could to keep Patton from seeing how scared he was about all of this.

Roman wasn’t going to say he was dealing with all of this in the healthiest way, but he was doing better than the rest of them in his own personal opinion. He was letting himself cry and he was letting himself panic and he was letting himself think of all the worst possible outcomes for this. At least Roman was feeling. Like actually feeling.

On days like today, where they were faced with the reality of their situation as they sat across from Nate and Percy with nothing new to tell them except that Ethan DeVille hadn’t been seen or heard from in months and there was nothing that they could trace, Roman was really hit in the face with all those emotions. Logan had only nodded tensely before he dismissed himself. Patton had smiled brightly and squeezed Thomas’ hands too tightly and said he was sure they’d find something soon. Thomas had pulled Patton up and away when he saw that Patton was getting ready to crack and crumble.

Roman didn’t move for several moments, just staring at the officers as he processed this. This nothingness. The lack of answers they were giving him. “How? How do you have nothing? He couldn’t have just-- Just disappeared like that. You don’t mean that. You can’t,” he denied, shaking his head harshly. “He had to… He had to use his credit cards to move or his phone to-to talk with Remy, can’t you use Remy’s information to find them?”

“Roman. I know that this is incredibly difficult to hear and to understand, but those are the facts as we know them. But that does not mean we’re giving up on this particular lead. It just means that we might have to explore some of the other possibilities,” Percy told him with this small, sympathetic smile on his face.

“Other possibilities? There are no other possibilities on this, Officer Genta! He’s the one who did it, that… That devil took my friend and he took my boyfriend and I-- I-- You have to find Ethan to find Remy and Virgil. That’s it. That’s it.”

Nate stood up and clapped Roman on the shoulder before guiding the distraught man up to his feet. “We believe you, Roman. We really do. And we’re not giving up on that trail, we promise. I promise. But we’re going to look into what else might have happened so that we have a better chance of finding them, okay?” Roman was quiet for a moment before he nodded, wiping the tears from his face. “Okay, good. Now. Go be with your boyfriends. You all need each other right now.”

Roman nodded again and gave Nate a quick hug. Quick was maybe a little bit of an under exaggeration, considering none of them had really taken the time to hug each other and they were probably all desperately in need of that sort of affection. It lasted probably longer than what was actually comfortable for the officer but Roman detached feeling a little lighter. He thanked the officers softly, giving them a little wave and making a joke about seeing them at the same time in a couple days. It wasn’t a joke he enjoyed making and yet he made it every time.

The ride home was quiet. They were always quiet when they left. Roman thought it was so they could all digest the fact that nothing had changed. That there were still empty seats at their table that weren’t going to be filled any time soon.

When they returned to the apartment, they all went their separate ways. Logan went off to grade assignments, Patton went to cook them dinner, Thomas ran off in search of a Disney movie to try and distract them all after dinner, and Roman went on the hunt for an audition, an endeavor that always ended with scrolling through the pictures he’d managed to capture of the four of them before Virgil disappeared.. All in the same small apartment but worlds apart.

It wasn’t until the sound of something crashing against a wall somewhere in the apartment echoed through the space that any of them even seemed to remember that the rest of them were there. The sound of the crash pulled Roman’s eyes from his phone as he jumped with surprise, the sound of wrecked screams sent Patton flying from the kitchen, abandoning the dinner prep he’d been working so carefully on, the sound of clambering feet and swinging doors brought Thomas away from his fond search through movies.

The source of it all came as a shock. Logan sat on the floor of the ‘guest’ room - the room that had once been his and had slowly been turning into Virgil’s - with shaking shoulders and his face buried in a pile of black fabric to muffle the sobs coming from him. Across the room was the remains of a lamp that used to sit on the bedside table, a scratch marked the paint where it had hit the wall and glass littered the otherwise tidy floor. “Logan…?” Patton started cautiously, taking a couple steps into the room.

Logan’s head snapped up in an instant and he dropped the fabric to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Patton, I-- I am incredibly sorry about the lamp. I… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, honey,” Patton mumbled, voice soft as he waved Roman into the room and dropped to his knees in front of his partner, careful to avoid the glass shards that had skittered across the room. Roman joined them and slowly took the fabric from Logan as Thomas disappeared to grab a broom. It only took a moment of examining the black pile in his hands for Roman to understand what had caused Logan’s sudden outburst.

The unassuming pile of fabric was one of Virgil’s hoodies. Virgil had allowed Roman to paint a little stormcloud on the jacket a few months back, before their relationship had even truly started, after Roman had taken to affectionately calling the other their stormcloud. He hadn’t been able to stand how Virgil thought that he was constantly ‘raining on their parade’ and had done his absolute best to turn what Virgil saw as a negative into the positive they all believed he was.

“I thought he had this with him,” Roman muttered, allowing his hand to ghost over the shaky lines on the lightning. Virgil had teased him the entire time he painted and it had ended with some unclear lines. “I thought he grabbed it.”

It was Patton’s turn to hold the jacket and he pressed it up against his face to take a deep breath. It smelled like their detergent, some form of proof, in Patton’s mind, that Virgil had truly started making their home his own. Virgil had started leaving things around and doing laundry there and Patton just knew if he looked around a little bit that he’d find notebooks and hair dye somewhere around the room.

“He-- He did not. Clearly. It was under the bed and I--” Logan explained, eyes focused on the ground in front of him. “I was looking for something, I don’t even remember and it was under there and I got… I got frustrated. It has been under there for weeks and no one checked. No one looked.”

The tears started rolling down Logan’s face once more and Roman didn’t hesitate to pull his usually stoic and strong partner into his arms, holding on tightly to what he still had. It came as no surprise to him when Patton joined their small pile and laid the jacket out over all of their laps. “We’re not-- We’re not done looking yet. There’s still so much to look through, it’s not- It’s not over yet,” Patton told him as he reached over to take Logan’s hand.

“It’s not,” Roman agreed quietly. “It’s not and it won’t be until we’ve found him. This isn’t… This isn’t the last thing we have.”

Logan nodded a bit, spreading his free hand out over the tiny storm on the jacket and mumbling a shaky, “you’re right. We’re not giving up. Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

There in the tiny guest room, surrounded by pieces of a broken lamp, the three of them finally all allowed themselves to feel everything they’d been ignoring. But, they also allowed themselves to remember that they weren’t alone in this.

They were going to get through this together.

Four weeks.

Four weeks and Virgil saw no end in sight.

Maybe that was because Ethan had finally ‘trusted’ him enough to let him out of the house. Virgil was never left unsupervised when he was outside the small house - let out for trips to the store and dinner dates only - but it was a sign, in his eyes.

A sign that Ethan truly believed no one was going to come save them.

That didn’t keep Virgil from trying to, at the very least, get Remy out. He had started sneaking out to see the other on a near nightly basis, just to make sure Remy stayed positive, to make sure his friend remembered that he was going to get out of here. Virgil could see that little bit of hope in Remy’s eyes dimming day by day.

It didn’t help that Remy was able to watch out the window as Virgil left with Ethan in the evenings. It was like he knew that it meant Virgil had given in to Ethan’s will but he was only doing it for Remy. Ethan had grown more consistent in threatening Remy’s safety for lack of compliance. Any small act of disobedience could cause Remy harm, something as small as not acting quick enough, and Virgil was not going to allow that. He wasn’t going to give Ethan the opportunity to hurt Remy more than he already had.

But, Virgil still hadn’t been able to sneak the keys away from Ethan in order to get Remy out the front door. Which severely limited his options for getting Remy out. The kitchen window wasn’t big enough, the living room windows opened out at an angle, the back door had its own set of locks Virgil hadn’t even seen the keys to. He was going to have to reconsider the second floor windows now that Remy finally seemed close to healed. Sure, Ethan would notice the screen missing, but it wasn’t like Virgil wasn’t going to be in trouble anyway. Even if Remy devised an escape plan on his own, Virgil would end up in trouble anyway. For letting him escape, for not telling Ethan that Remy had a plan, for not stopping him. It didn’t matter if Virgil actually knew or not. It would be his fault.

Virgil wasn’t focused on that right now, though. He was focused on the way Remy shivered on the floor even though he’d yanked all the blankets off the bed and wrapped himself in them like a burrito. As the summer gave way to fall, Virgil had noticed it getting colder, but he hadn’t taken into consideration that all Remy had to keep himself warm was whatever Ethan had given him for clothes and what he could find in the room. All Remy had to keep himself warm were thin sweats, a t-shirt, and cheap blankets.

Virgil decided that that wasn’t enough as he pulled off his warm jacket - a new one that Ethan had bought to replace the ‘rags’ that Patton had gifted him when he decided that he wanted to get rid of any remaining piece of Virgil’s ‘old life’. “I can talk to Ethan about getting you something warmer, like a hoodie or something and some… Warmer blankets,” he told him, holding the jacket out for Remy.

His friend took it easily, a sad looking smile on his face. “Something tells me he’s not just going to agree to that,” Remy mumbled.

“I… I just have to thank him properly. I have been doing better, been… Been making him happier, I think. With what I’ve been doing, so I just need to step it up a little. Just. Have to thank him right,” he said again, eyes on his lap as he began thinking of ways to get what Remy needed.

“What do you mean?” Virgil blinked, glancing back up at Remy to find the other giving him a confused look. “You said… You said thank him right. What does that mean?”

Oh. Ethan had never made Remy thank him. That was good, Virgil thought. It was good that Remy hadn’t been forced to learn what the ‘right’ way to thank someone was, what the right way to thank Ethan was. “I, uhm, sometimes…. Or-or every time, really, that I ask for something or Ethan doesn’t do something he could have, he, uh, I have to thank him for it. Usually with like. Uhm. Sex,” Virgil explained, scratching the back of his neck. It seemed that after learning that that wasn’t how things were typically done, it had become much harder for Virgil to talk about. He knew it wasn’t right now. He knew that that wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

“Virgil… Vee, you don’t have to do that. You don’t, it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not going to freeze to death or anything,” Remy told him with a shake of his head. He didn’t like the thought of Virgil doing something like that just for him.

“It’s not something new, Rem. It’s… It’s just life with Ethan. I’d be doing something like that even if you weren’t here. Probably… Probably because I didn’t smile wide enough at the neighbor, I didn’t look happy enough, and all I got was a slap when he could have… Well. He could have done whatever he wanted to,” Virgil told him with a small shrug.

That exact scenario had happened just days before, after one of their dates. Ethan had stopped to chat with their neighbor and his wife and had expected Virgil to play the part of a content partner who wanted to join the walking club and babysit the neighbor’s kids and had an interest in talking about new recipes to try. But Virgil had been tired, he’d been exhausted from sneaking out to see Remy the night before and getting screamed at by Ethan for crying, and his smile had been just a tinge to small and his conversation skills had been weak. And Ethan had let him have it when they’d gotten inside, more yelling, a slap across the face, and a demand for a thank you since Ethan hadn’t just thrown him into a room and left him until he learned how to act right.

Those weren’t exactly comforting words to Remy who looked positively appalled at the facts that Virgil laid out for him. “Has he… Was he always like that with you?”

“No? Maybe. Kind of. Uhm… It-- He wasn’t always this bad. We got together when I was fifteen. He was a senior, then, and he, he came up to me and he asked me-- No. He told me we were going to dinner together. He told me when and where and told me to be there. And I was. It was just. It seemed great to me, then. That a senior boy wanted to take me out, you know?” Virgil told him, looking over at his friend who watched him talk with a sympathetic look on his face. Virgil wondered what it had been like when Ethan asked him out, if it had actually been asking. “But, uh, he was controlling right away. And I didn’t know anything different than that, I didn’t know anything about relationships. Ethan was my first boyfriend and my parents weren’t really a great example. But... Eventually I figured out that it wasn’t right. It took three years but I figured it out. I didn’t really get what a relationship was supposed to be like until I met you and Thomas.”

Remy snorted, covering up his mouth quickly. It wasn’t the time to laugh, not while Virgil was telling him his story. Virgil smiled though and pushed forward. “I know… I know you two aren’t together but. But I know you love him. I know because it was always… It was just… I don’t even know how to explain it. The way you looked at him… It showed me what love was supposed to look like. It wasn’t supposed to be what I had-- What I have with Ethan. It wasn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be the terror I felt any time I did something that could make him angry, it was supposed to be the pure peace on your face whenever Thomas leans against you and holds your hand. I didn’t-- This isn’t answering your question,” he trailed off, laughing a little. “He didn’t always hit me or make me thank him for doing the bare minimum but it wasn’t ever right.”

“You can tell me about it, if you want,” Remy said after a moment, pulling Virgil’s jacked tightly around him.”I want to know. And… And we’re going to be here a while so… So, I think I should know. So I can, I don’t know, help you. I don’t know how but… But I’ll try. Even if it’s just by sitting and listening.”

“It’s. It’s a lot, you know that, right? It took me… Hours to tell the other three. It’s not a happy story.”

“Virgil. I know. You don’t… Have to preface this by telling me it’s not a good story. I know that. I know,” he reminded him quietly as he reached over to grab Virgil’s hand.

Virgil was quiet for a moment before he nodded, taking a deep breath and just… Started talking. He told Remy everything - from the example his parents set for him and starting the relationship between him and Ethan to learning what was expected of him and what to expect from Ethan if the rules were broken. From sneaking savings into an envelope under their shared bed to running away in the middle of the night, scared and alone and unsure what to do next.

It wasn’t until he heard the angry roar from down the hall that Virgil even realized how long he had been talking. Remy shot from where he had been resting against Virgil, eyes wide with fear as he watched his friend scramble up to his feet and try to get out the door. If he was fast enough, maybe Virgil could convince Ethan he had just woken up early and had gone to get coffee started. Maybe he could keep things okay for now.

Virgil had no such luck. He never had much luck when it came to Ethan. The angry man was at Remy’s door when he pulled it open, pure rage written in every inch of his stance. Virgil stumbled back into the room when the other took a step towards him and he flinched before Ethan’s fist even came up. The punch to his jaw only made him move back further, making the man in front of him even angrier. “What are you doing?”

“I--I--” Virgil stuttered intelligently, waving his hand at Remy. A silent gesture to go hide, to not give Ethan the chance to turn any of this anger on him.

“You, you,” Ethan mocked as he grabbed the collar of Virgil’s shirt to yank him forward. He only had a moment to try and steady himself on his feet before Virgil was tossed towards the ground with a thud. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here? You know you’re not supposed to be in here without permission. I did not give you permission,” he growled.

Virgil shook his head and looked behind him. No Remy. Good, good, he didn’t want Remy to have to see this. “I’m sorry, I-- It was cold and, and, Remy--”

A swift kick to his ribs had the words catching in Virgil’s throat. It didn’t matter what he said, he knew that. Nothing was going to cool Ethan’s fury, now. The early morning beatings were always the worst. They didn’t happen often but Virgil remembered them. Remembered that Ethan angry first thing in the morning had landed him in the hospital scrambling for excuses for broken wrists and concussions and stitches.

Virgil could tell this was going to be no different, except perhaps that he was going to have to beg Ethan to take him to the hospital. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know where the hospital was, but he was going to need someone to make sure his lungs were alright with the way Ethan’s foot was continually slamming into his rib cage and his stomach as he screamed at him. He thought that would be it, the kicking and the screaming and the reminder of what the rules were in this house.

But Ethan hadn’t given himself a reason to truly try and destroy Virgil yet and this served as the perfect excuse. Virgil knew he was supposed to be forgetting his old life and that included Remy. To betray Ethan like this? To spend time with that pathetic excuse of a man Virgil called a ‘friend’ when Ethan had expressly forbid him to? No. No, Virgil needed to be taught a lesson this time. Needed to be reminded just what Ethan could do to put him in his place.

Ethan straddled Virgil, a sick sort of smile on his face as he slammed his fist into Virgil’s nose a few times until he could see the deep red color of blood coming from his nose. There was nothing Virgil could do to keep the pained sounds from coming now, not with Ethan sitting directly on top of his sore torso. He choked on sobs until Ethan’s hands made their way around his throat and squeezed until the sounds were stopped from pure lack of ability to breathe.

The hands only came off when Virgil’s clawing seemed to become annoying enough for Ethan to decide to grab one of his hands and push and push and push and slam into the ground to hear a satisfying crack and scream. Ethan only laughed as Virgil started to squirm under him, grabbing his play thing by the shoulders and lifting him just enough to slam his head back onto the hardwood floor of the bedroom. Black spots filled Virgil’s vision and he briefly hoped Ethan would have the mercy to stop if he passed out, have the sense to take him to the hospital.

And then he saw Remy. Remy holding something that shined in the light of the rising sun. Something that Remy slammed down into Ethan’s back. Something that caused Ethan to stop and let out his own pained scream. Something that came out dark and red, drops falling from it as Ethan turned in a rage towards Remy. Something that went crashing back into Ethan’s chest when he rushed at Remy.

Virgil’s head spun as he watched Remy shove Ethan away from him, the stronger of the two stumbling back as he wrapped his hands around the knife protruding out of his chest. The shirt on him was quickly growing dark, gray turning to black as blood came rushing out of Ethan’s chest. Ethan’s mouth opened and closed, shocked eyes on Remy, before he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Remy stood still a moment, chest heaving and hands shaking while he processed what he’d just done. But he didn’t have time to focus on that, he needed to focus on his friend’s eyes fluttering shut after he’d watch that monster slam his head repeatedly into the ground. “Virgil, Virgil, hey, hey,” he said, shaking himself out of his stupor to rush to Virgil’s side. “I need you to sit up and… And stay awake. I’m going to call an ambulance, I need you to stay awake until it gets here.”

Virgil tried and failed to speak, his chest aching after the abuse it’d suffered and his mind too tired to try and push through the pain. He nodded slightly and let his eyes slip shut until Remy called his name again. And again. And again. Cycle repeating until Remy made a promise to be right back.

Virgil didn’t last long enough to see him return, letting himself quickly slip out of consciousness.

Bright white was the first thing Virgil saw when he woke up. The light hurt his eyes as he blinked awake and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut again to block it out, sharp pain shooting across his face. He tried to lift his hand to shield his eyes instead and ease the pounding in his head, but found that he dragged some tubes up with his hand. That was unexpected.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” A far too cheerful voice said and Virgil heard someone shuffle in his direction, beginning to mess with the thing attached to his arms. “I just made your friends go get food while I looked you over and let me tell you, that was not an easy task. They haven’t left this room since you two got here and I could tell they needed a break. Anyway, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

Virgil made a noise of annoyance as he listened to the man - a nurse, he realized, as he took in the scrubs that had little cartoon drawings on them. Lilo and Stitch. So, he was in a hospital, Ethan had been smart enough to bring him in. But, Ethan wasn’t answering for him. Ethan always answered for him. There was silence for a long minute as Virgil remembered what had happened, what Remy had done, and then he seemed to panic. Remy had stabbed Ethan and Virgil didn’t immediately see him and he couldn’t keep his mind from immediately thinking of all the worst case scenarios as he tried to sit up and get off the bed. “Remy-- Where’s Remy?” Virgil asked, breathlessly. Why was it so hard to breathe?

The nurse scrambled to stop him, gently placing his hands on Virgil’s shoulders to push him back down against the bed. He withdrew his hands the moment Virgil flinched away and gave the scared man a sympathetic look. “Lay back down, Remy’s right over there,” he assured him, pointing across the room to where Remy was sleeping, attached to an IV drip but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Virgil let himself relax. Remy was here, Remy was here, Remy was okay. “Well, I’m glad he pretty much demanded to be in here with you. I told him that we’re not really supposed to do that with surgical patients - put them in rooms with other patients, I mean - but he refused to be anywhere else. Told me that I was either going to put him in the same room as you or deal with him later because he was going to refuse treatment so you wouldn’t be alone.” The nurse laughed a bit and shook his head. “But I think he knew you weren’t going to actually be alone. All those nice boys showed up not long after you went into surgery and we were already treating him in here… Oh! I should probably tell you what’s going on here, shouldn’t I?”

Virgil blinked but nodded slowly, careful not to move the little tubes in his nose. It would be nice to know what the hell was going on.

“Okay, well, my name is Emile Picani and I’m your nurse for the night shift! You’ll be here for a couple days and I should be your nurse every night, except maybe Saturday and Thursday because those are my nights off and-- Well, that’s not too important. Anyway, you’re going to be here for a little while because you had surgery, but it shouldn’t be more than a week as long as you’re healing alright,” the nurse, Emile, explained with a tiny smile. “You had a couple of broken ribs and a pneumothorax - a punctured lung, which is probably why you’re feeling like it’s a little hard to breathe right now. The doctor performed a minor surgery to reinflate the lung and you’re just going to have to take it a little easy while your ribs are healing to make sure that that there lung stays inflated. You also have a minor concussion, so now that you’ve woken up, we’ll be keeping you up for a little bit so we can make sure your noggin is alright. Your right wrist was broken and is in a nice little cast, purple per the request of your friends. Your nose was also broken and we set it back in place before we put in the nasal cannula to help you breathe.

“Uhm… There’s also some scattered bruising and small cuts, particularly in the, uhm, lower region of your body, which we, uhm… It’s evidence of... Well, there isn’t much that can be done for those but we can treat for pain and discomfort as much as needed. We’ve already got you on a nice little regiment of stuff to help with that. If you’re ever feeling like you’re in pain and uncomfortable, you can press this button -” he stopped talking just long enough to point out the bright, red button next to Virgil’s arm on the side of the bed “- and someone will come and help you out. No need to just sit there and be in pain, okay? There are plenty of people here who want to help you, alright?”

That was so much information to take in, so many negative things said in a bright voice as if that would make it seem better. It didn’t, not really. If anything, it made Virgil feel worse. He’d been to the hospital for almost everyone of the described ailments, but never all at once. It was like Ethan’s goal had been to kill him. Virgil, for the first time in the past month, was grateful Remy had been there with him. He might not have survived this otherwise. “M-my boyfriend...Where is he?” He asked, voice shaky and soft.

Emile frowned a bit and glanced in Remy’s direction before letting his eyes fall back to Virgil. “I assume you’re referring to the man who did this to you, yes?” Virgil nodded and Emile let out a soft sigh. “That man will not be able to hurt you again. Or anyone, for that matter. He is currently awaiting an autopsy.”

Perhaps Virgil should have been sad to hear that. He had spent years of his life with Ethan, had had many of his firsts with Ethan. First date, first kiss, first broken arm, first hospital stay. Virgil cried, but not out of sadness. Out of pure fucking relief.

Virgil was free.

He was really free.

“Thank you,” Virgil told him quietly, a small smile on his face. Oh, that kind of hurt. The smiling. “Uhm, I need-- Face. Hurts.” It wasn’t the most eloquent phrasing Virgil could have used but it was what Virgil could provide at the moment.

Emile was quick in treating the pain, inserting something into the IV attached to Virgil’s forearm and then patting Virgil’s hair carefully. “I’ll be back shortly, you may be a little sleepy but I am sure your friends will be happy to see that you’ve opened your eyes. They should be back soon,” he promised Virgil, who was already feeling some of the pain leaving his body. “The doctor will be in shortly to give you some tests to make sure your brain is a-okay, but for now, just relax, okay?” Virgil nodded and the nurse quickly scribbled some things onto a clipboard before he left the room.

Virgil sagged against the bed and allowed himself a moment to just breathe. To feel the weight leave him as he processed the fact that Ethan was gone. To realize that he wasn’t going to have to spend the rest of his life with Ethan or running from Ethan or worrying that Ethan was going to find him or his little family. Virgil was able to relax for the first time in eight years.

Briefly, anyway, because when Virgil started looking around the room and spotted Remy again, he remembered that his friend was here because of him. Remy was here because Virgil had been selfish. He’d let himself make friends when he knew, he knew that Ethan was out there, that Ethan wasn’t just going to give him up.

Remy wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Virgil. The others were probably only actually here for Remy. It made sense that they would come for him. They probably all hated him, now. After everything Virgil had put them through, he wouldn’t blame them. He’d made them suffer through all of his problems from the moment he met them. Not knowing how to talk to people, not knowing how to act with people, not knowing what he was and was not supposed to do in friendships, doing everything wrong and hurting them in the process.

They were probably only ready to see him awake so they could tell him they wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Virgil had too much baggage, Virgil had gotten their friend hurt, Virgil wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

Virgil just hoped they were kind enough to wait until Remy was discharged or moved. He wouldn’t be able to watch them dote and worry about Remy while he was in his current condition.

Virgil was pulled out of his thoughts by the door opening, the sound of bickering slightly muffled by the sound of balloons rubbing against each other as they pushed through the door frame.

“I told you we should have just gotten flowers, Roman. Remy told you the same thing before he went to sleep,” someone said, Virgil was pretty sure it was Logan at the back of the pack.

Patton laughed as he came into the room with a giant handful of balloons. Some plain colored, some covered with stars, a couple with big letters saying ‘get well soon’. Virgil felt tears in his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he could miss someone’s laugh, he hadn’t let himself think about that too much. It had hurt. “I think he’ll like the balloons, Lo-bear. I bet it’ll even help him get whale quicker!” Patton giggled, pulling down a balloon with a whale on it.

“And on top of that, Remy also told us not to get him anything but I don’t see you chastising Thomas for buying him flowers and chocolates!” Roman announced, carrying in flowers and being followed in by Thomas who was quickly turning a light red color.

“He was lying. He wants flowers,” Thomas mumbled as he passed Virgil’s bed to set the flowers on the small table next to Remy’s bed. Virgil didn’t miss the soft and fond look Thomas gave his sleeping friend and he was happy to note that some things just don’t change.

Logan trailed in after all of them, holding a small bag with some unknown contents in it, and sighed. It was useless to try and reason with his boyfriends now and he knew that. Still, he smiled as Patton seemed to struggle with finding somewhere to put the massive amount of balloons and Roman rushed to set the flowers down to help his partner. It was so nice to see some of the life brought back into them now that they had Virgil back.

Logan’s eyes went to Virgil’s bed and it seemed to take his brain a moment to catch up with his eyes. Virgil was awake, tears on his cheeks and some cracked, weak-looking smile on his face. “Virgil,” he breathed out, slowly approaching the bed.

“Hi, Lo,” Virgil greeted with a shaky voice as Logan took his uncasted hand and held on tightly. It should hurt, Virgil thought for a moment, but the pressure was warm and comfortable as opposed to the crushing feeling of Ethan’s hand in his. Logan’s tight grip lacked an intent to hurt him.

The weight tied to the bottom of the balloons hit the ground with a thud as Patton caught on to what was happening, gently pushing Roman’s hands away from the strings as he rushed to the bedside with tears in his eyes. “You’re awake! Oh my goodness, I am-- I missed you so much, I’m so… Can I give you a kiss? Or a dozen? Or more? I just--” Virgil cut him off with a small nod and Patton quickly started kissing over any bit of unbruised face he could reach.

Roman seemed frozen in his spot by the balloons as he watched the other two fawn over their partner. He was feeling so many things all at once at seeing Virgil awake and he just wasn’t sure which to react to first. Virgil’s eyes found Roman’s and Roman saw the fear there, the fear that Roman may not actually be happy to see him, and he racked his mind for something to say to make it go away. There was nothing he could think of that seemed to properly express how relieved he was and before he could say anything, Thomas had him by the shoulders and was guiding him to the group with gentle reminder to not be an idiot. Roman tripped over himself until he was seated on the edge of the bed with a hand on Virgil’s ankles. “I missed you,” he told Virgil when Patton pulled away. “We all missed you so, so much. I don’t think we would have survived much longer without that phone call from the police station.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared to get a phone call,” Logan said quietly. Virgil thought he could see tears in his eyes.

Virgil didn’t like seeing all of them like this. They had all been happy as they were when Virgil had forced his way into their lives and they looked broken now, worn down by the pain they’d been put through while Remy and Virgil had been missing. And he had caused that. He was behind all that pain.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil muttered, the happy smile having fallen off his face as he looked between the three of them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… To scare you guys.”

“Oh, Virge, honey. You don’t need to be sorry, this wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?” Patton asked softly as he brought a hand up to try and carefully wipe some tears off the bruised skin around Virgil’s eyes.

Virgil shook his head and forced out a little laugh. “It is. It is my fault. I shouldn’t have… Have let you guys care?” Virgil paused, coughing lightly. “I got Remy hurt and all of you are crying and it wouldn’t have happened if I had just… Just kept you at a safe distance, just stayed away then. Then Remy wouldn’t be here and you’d all be happy and--”

Logan squeezed his hand and cut Virgil off. “We are happy. We are happy, Virgil, because you’re back. We’re not crying because we’re sad. We are crying because we are so happy you’re here and you’re awake and you’re alive,” he told earnestly, Roman and Patton nodding along with him.

“But, if I had just--”

“Virgil, stormcloud, darling, we don’t need to talk about that. Because it doesn’t matter. We can’t… We don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t let us in and we don’t want to think about it. Because you did and we love you and we wouldn’t change a thing about this. Well, no, I would want you to be less hurt but-- But, I’m just so happy to have you in my life. Exactly how I have you now,” Roman assured him.

“And you don’t have to worry anymore,�� Patton tacked on. “This chapter of your life, it’s… Well, it’s not closed. I don’t know if it’ll ever really close but… But there’s no more to add. You’re safe, now, and you have us and we’re not going anywhere. None of us are.”

Thomas appeared at his side and nodded his agreement, patting Virgil’s shoulder gently. “Remy basically refused to leave your side, it was tough to keep him out of the operating room. He has so much he wants to say to you and he’ll be really glad to hear you woke up. He and I are sticking around,” he said with a little smile.

That seemed to light a bulb over Roman’s head and he leaned towards Virgil to whisper, “I think your nurse might be sticking around, too. Thomas refuses to admit it but he’s got a couple crushes.” Roman winked and Virgil let out a wet laugh, nodding again.

There was still more to work through, more things to talk about, but for now, Virgil was going to believe them. And he was going to let himself be happy. And he was going to breathe.

Because he could.

Virgil could breathe.

#ss big bang 2019 #sanders sides #lamp #abusive anxceit #abusive sleepceit #remy/thomas/emile #my fics #sanders sides fic

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daily-rayless · 4 years

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20 Years of Art

2000

(OC / Celes from Final Fantasy 6 / OC / OC)

The influence of Final Fantasy 6, off of the Anthology collection, and Yoshitaka Amano caused a significant shift in my art, leading my human figures to be very slender, graceful, and frequently pale. Most of it was of women, some of it was of horses, and by then I was very self-consciously starting to draw men. I mostly worked in pencils and colored pencils. Faces were oval with high hairlines and long, sharp, narrow noses. Also note my evident fear of mouth-seams and lower eyelids. I was pretty terrible at coloring, often feeling that coloring one of my sketches ruined all the nice linework.

2001

(Quistis from Final Fantasy 8 / Rosa from Final Fantasy 4? / Schala from Chrono Trigger / Dark Knight OC from Final Fantasy 4)

This is where more anime influences came in, and I consciously took on a semi-anime, semi-realistic (in my own mind) style. My ideal of beauty was overbig eyes, overlong nose, and oversmall mouth, and I stuck to it pretty relentlessly. Trying to figure out shadows and face structure. Still bad at coloring. I was incredibly proud of that charcoal picture. Was also going through my mandatory Dark 'n Edgy phase, with a big helping of Phantom of the Opera, Sarah Brightman, and my attempts at designing supercool clothes, many of which I wouldn't have actually worn, even given the opportunity.

2002

(Me trying to recreate “Flaming June” / OC, who incidentally looks almost exactly like Sarah Brightman and whose diadem was bodily lifted from a Jodi Lee painting / angsty symbolic wet chain lady / OC)

Deep in the Dark 'n Edgy. Faces are still very heavily made-up, with big lashes, defined upper eyelids, and dark lips. Trying very hard to be a good artist though, have high expectations for the future. I was so proud of that final pose and worked so hard on it. Lined paper? So not a problem. Besides, how else am I supposed to draw during class? A sketchbook would've been even more obvious than the incredibly obvious I already was. I'm able to listen while drawing pretty reliably, and I did manage to take detailed notes while doodling, so at least I had that going for me.

2003

(Celes / OC / OC / Hermes-inspired wing lady)

I was focusing (at least some of the time) on backgrounds and trying to make my work detailed and polished. Coloring is still hopeless. Often when I colored, I would go super light, even when I was using dark or intense colors. It would give my pictures a sort of faint, half-assed hazy look. I remember an art teacher urging me to use more color, but I probably resisted because I knew that way lay total destruction. I'm sorry, well-meaning art teacher. You are unversed in the ways of my pencils. I have killed too many sketches to take those kinds of risks.

2004

(Rosa? / Meliara from Crown Duel / willow-dress lady / Geddoe and Queen from Suikoden 3)

See the Meliara picture? That's supposed to be a night scene in a forest. Front-lit by blazing firelight. I was too afraid to make the colors darker. This is dark enough, okay? Anyway, this year, along with being utterly obsessed with Suikoden 3 and Crown Duel, I was letting my art head in a more realistic direction...

2005

(OC / Queen / Queen / part of Zetta and Salome from Makai Kingdom; I remember deliberately copying those swoopy Ss from one of my friends’ handwriting. Wishes ended up being the first longform fanfic I posted online.)

...that really flourished this year. It's not actually realism, but I made a point to give my characters, especially the women, more realistic bodies. Faces are very round in this period, often with soft features. Noses are prominent. I'm also, finally, using more vibrant colors. I probably got my first Prismacolor pencils around this time. I also got some really cheap markers, but had no idea how to use them so mostly stuck to pencils.

2006

(All OCs)

I look back on this as a good year. I was learning better coloring techniques. (Bold colors! Press that pencil down! Okay, I still had much to learn.) I got an Elfwood gallery while the site was doing its slow mosey into oblivion. But that was an important step, not just looking at other people's art online, but putting my own up as well. There were downsides though. I began to feel more insecure – or maybe more realistic? – about my art, on this site with so many highly talented artists. Still, 2006 is a good year. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.

2007

(vampire and hunter / Fleur from Harry Potter / OC / Avril from Wild Arms 5)

The year of Fleur Delacour. This is when I was writing Kindred. I think it was because I was trying to depict Fleur as distinctly non-human that my art shifted away from that more realistic style. Fleur, and my other figures, became very tall and slender. The anime DNA is still there though. For a long time, I felt the lying-down picture of Fleur was my best work.

2008

(Revya and Gig from Soul Nomad / my attempts at being “abstract” / OC / OC)

This was the year of Soul Nomad and, towards the end, Tales of the Abyss. Unsurprisingly, the anime influences start moving back to the fore. The eyes are becoming larger again, the features a bit more angular and stylized, mouths are shrinking. I'm still desperately trying to figure out markers and wondering why it's so darn hard (I don't try to educate myself, I just flail), but I was proud of that blue OC picture. It made me feel like I was getting somewhere. 2008 is when I started my deviantART gallery, right when everyone else was moving on to Tumblr.

2009

(teacup lady / Persona 4 noir-style comic / Revya / OC)

Then Persona 4 hit. Shigenori Soejima was a huge influence in this period, especially in eyes and faces. Pupils, chins, and jawlines shrink, eyelashes are sparse and stylized, noses are simplified. 2008 and 2009 are about as pure anime as I've ever gotten. Meanwhile, I'm really exited about my dA gallery and trying lots of different combinations of media. I'm super active on dA and FFN at this point, writing Elysion and then a slew of shorter Persona fics.

2010

(Minako from Persona 3: Portable / concept-art-version Minako / lady with dragon ferret thing / other lady with dragon ferret thing)

I'm still drawing with a lot of Soejima influences. Additionally, bodies are becoming even longer, taller, thinner, and bendier. Some of them look absurd to me now. On the other hand, a lot of pictures from this period have a nice elegance to them. I was still using colored pencils a fair bit, but more clumsy markers are showing up. Persona 3: Portable came out, and this is when I was writing Death and Ker.

2011

(mask lady / hat lady / Archaya, Duphaston, and Iryth from Eternal Poison / symbolic autumn lady and her winter baby)

Midway through this year, I hit a breakthrough when I got my first set of Copics – and skin tones, no less. Even though I was still flailing, I was so thrilled with my results. That Eternal Poison picture left me enormously proud, as did the mother and child one. My style hasn't changed all that much, but it's starting to feel less extreme. The focus on big eyes and tiny little mouths remains.

2012

(Elza from Suikoden 2 / Daryl and Setzer from Final Fantasy 6 / Killey and Lorelai from Suikoden 2 / Lyssa, Greek goddess of madness)

This is the year of Elza. Lots of delicate sketches of this lovely scarred lady, and lots of colored pictures too. I've definitely shifted away from pencils towards markers. The Daryl and Setzer one was an attempt to use both, and I was very happy with it. These pictures show their age, but there's still a lot here I like. Mouths are larger too. However, my online activity was starting to lag.

2013

(Rydia from Final Fantasy 4 / Nia from Infinite Space / the prophet and Schala / Argos and Io from Greek mythology)

The mid-2010s weren't entirely great for me, marked with a lot of frustration and discontent. And that definitely carried over to my art, making me feel very disappointed with myself. There was lots of marker work this year. Probably the standout picture is Argos and Io. This is also when I played through all three routes of Fate/Extra, and my art was suddenly full of Hakuno and Emiya.

2014

(Minako / butterfly lady / Marta and Tenebrae from Tales of Symphonia 2 / Elza)

Looking at it now, this was a good year. Lots of nice marker art. The butterfly one was a big step up for me in terms of coloring. The Marta and Tenebrae has a really cool stylized look to it. But I was becoming less enthusiastic about sharing my art with others. I started to post less and less.

2015

(evil Hakuno and Emiya from the Fate series / Mitsuru from Persona 3 / half moon cookie lady / Hakuno)

I barely posted anything this year, though I was still drawing a ton. As far as making strides, this is one of my better years. Coloring will never be my strong suit, but it's a lot more fun, and it looks a lot better. It's almost entirely marker-work at this point. Despite my, er, angst, a lot of people are smiling this year.

2016

(OC / doodle lady / Luna from Roman mythology / hair bow lady)

At this point, it's feeling too recent for me to really see what's changed. I did a fair bit of eraserless work. One problem I still have – and, yes, it involves coloring my pictures – is losing some of the image's personality after I've inked it and erased the initial pencil work. The picture's still there, but not as nuanced as it originally was. The results often feel stiff to me. Doing the first linework in ink, or not inking at all, allows me to keep that sensitive, spontaneous quality. Luna and the bow and doodle ladies were done without erasers. Another thing I did a lot this year was fill backgrounds with busy shapes and colors, which is a trend I’m still following today.

2017

(flapper and dog / Alcyone and Ceyx from Greek mythology / flower hair lady / Kida from Atlantis)

Not a good year. Not that the art is bad, there just isn't a lot of it, and what there is often isn't very finished. I was still mostly dark online, wondering if I should take down my dA gallery. Drawing and knowing I wasn't going to post something took off some of the pressure of my own expectations, but I was still unhappy.

2018

(Altera from the Fate series / Elizabeth Bathory from the Fate series / OC / Aranea from Final Fantasy 15)

This was a really important year for me. I wrote a novel I'm really proud of, and it's done a lot to give me confidence and a sense of creative direction. I also decided that after New Years, I was going to start a Tumblr gallery...just as everyone who was still on the site was jumping off of it. Much of my 2018 work is still sketchy and unfinished, but I also think it's loosening up some. It feels less stiff than the stuff from the middle of the decade.

2019

(Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn / medievaly lady / Red from Transistor / Red)

The year of Supergiant Games, which led me to focus more on bright saturated colors. It's really hard for me to analyze these objectively. Coloring is better? I worked more on details? I used my metallic gel pens a ton and did shape-cluttered backgrounds? These aren't new things, but I think they paid off okay. I'm more at peace with my level of ability, I've finished more complicated works, and I crawled out of my den and started posting regularly online again. So that's all good. Curious to see what the art looks like in twenty more years.

#art progression #20 years of art #2000-2019 #i'm not tagging all the characters #this is a terribly long post #and shouldn't clutter up too many search results #thank you if you read the whole thing #i apologize for typos #art meme #art summary

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thewritewolf · 5 years

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Adrien AUG-Reste Day 27: Dadrien

Chat Noir has to take care of Ladybug when she gets hit by an akuma's attack. Also, there is a scene in here based on this comic, which was most of my inspiration for this story.

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@adrienaugust

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Another day, another akuma so out of control they are even defying Hawkmoth.

Maybe that explains why they completely lost interest in Chat Noir after he dived after Ladybug. He still had no idea what the akuma’s ability was, but his partner had definitely been hit. Instinct took over after that, but it was only once he landed that he realized that his partner was a lot lighter than she normally was.

When he finally stopped to look for any injuries, his jaw fell open when he realized he was carrying a little girl, no more than three or four years old. A four year old in magical kwami-granted armor, pigtails, and the biggest, bluest eyes he ever saw. His heart melted even as worry gnawed at his gut. There was no way they could continue to fight like this - and he definitely wasn’t about to drop her off somewhere by herself while this wore off.

He bit his lower lip, bouncing up and down in place while cradling her in his arms. It had to be temporary, right? And he had no idea where the akuma went anyway. Maybe if he just… kept an eye on her for a while, she’d go back to normal? The day was still young - although not quite as young as Ladybug was at the moment. What were they going to do until then?

“Pway with kitty!” She reached forward, pawing at his ears that stayed just outside her reach.

“Hey! Young m'lady you can't just go pulling on a distinguished cat's ears!"

Her only response was an entertained giggle as she stubbornly continued her quest.

“Okay, maybe we can burn off some of this energy first,” he mumbled mostly to himself as he tightened his grip on her and leapt up onto the roof tops. There was a park he vaguely remembered from his childhood, one that his mom would take him to.

With the threat of an akuma hanging over people’s heads, the park was unsurprisingly empty. A perfect place for his little lady to exhaust herself while he waited for her to return to normal. However long that took. But he was more than up to the challenge. He was Chat Noir, after all. How hard could watching a four year old be?

The moment Adrien planted himself on a bench, his eyes widened as he watched her running around the open space, narrowly avoiding colliding with various hard, metal playsets as she weaved between them. He immediately sprung to his feet.

“Okay, technically, m’lady you are still in a super suit, but you still need to watch where you’re going!” He yelled after her, but she just laughed and kept doing what she was doing. Their time at the park only got more stressful from there.

He let out a very manly screech. "Young M'lady you get AWAY from the fountain!"

Without having anything to dry her with, both her and her kwami could get sick. Thankfully, she changed her course...

“No! You CANNOT play with the pigeons! They might carry you away!"

...right towards a flock of birds.

It went on like that for nearly an hour and by the end of it, Adrien was feeling more exhausted than little bug was looking. He already felt frazzled and she was still pulling him along by the hand, clearly trying to get… wherever she wanted to go to in a hurry. Which made it all the more jarring when she suddenly changed course to stop and look up at him.

"Kitty? Tummy's growly."

All his previous annoyance with her melted right along with his heart in the face of her pleading expression. It took him a minute to process what she was saying.

"Tummy's... oh! Right. Children need food. And the akuma battle was this morning so you probably didn't get a balanced breakfast."

"Fwench fwies!"

"Now,” he began as he put on his best Stern Parent impersonation, “I don't know who your parents are, but I don't think they'd appreciate- Don't look at me like that, LB. I…” He sighed in defeat. “Fine..."

“Yay!” She started skipping as they walked.

Was this how she was back then? Carefree and adorable? Or was that just part of the akuma magic? Not for the first time, his heart ached with how little he knew the love of his life. Maybe one day they could share their identities and he could find out all there was to know about her. He had to believe that.

Like the park, the fast food joint was mostly abandoned and the cashier was looking at her phone when Adrien walked in. She glanced up at him, only to do a triple take - once to realize a customer had just arrived and another when it hit her that it was Chat Noir. And baby bug.

Mustering as much charm as he could, he smiled warmly at the bewildered staff. “Hello! Can I get two fries and two drinks?”

“Um… yeah.” The cashier - Katia, if her nametag was accurate - said slowly. “That’ll be five euros.”

He reached in his pocket and thanked Plagg for magic as five euros from his normal wallet manifested in his hands. He was just about to hand them over when Ladybug pulled on his free arm.

“I wanna buy it!” She frowned in thought and whispered to him. “Pst! Can I pwease borrow some money?”

He shrugged apologetically to Katia and took back his five euros, handing them to Ladybug, who could only barely see over the counter. She clutched them in her tiny fist for a moment before nudging his elbow and holding the euros up to him. Fighting a smile, he took the euros and handed them to Katia, who was thoroughly bemused at this point.

“We’ll, uh, have them out to you two in… just a minute.” She disappeared behind the counter and Adrien took little bug over to one of the booths. He had her sit on the inside to keep her from getting into mischief.

Thankfully, it proved unnecessary since there was some paper and crayons at the table. She hummed to herself while doodling and he took the opportunity to browse the Ladyblog. Maybe Alya had spotted the akuma while he’d been busy taking care of Ladybug.

He hadn’t found anything by the time their food arrived. From the way her eyes lit up when her fries were put in front of her, it was just as much a treat for her as it was for him. Father would never approve of him having fast food, after all.

“Kitty, here! This for you!”

His attention floated back to her and his heart melted when he saw the crude crayon drawing of a him and a mini Ladybug at the park. They seemed to be having a lot of fun.

“Aww, thank you, little bug. I’ll love it forever!” He took one last tender look at it before carefully folding it up and staching it in his pocket.

They finished their meal and Adrien hoisted her up onto his shoulders once they were out of the restaurant. He wandered back through the park and could feel Ladybug getting antsy above him. That didn’t bother him too much until he heard her start to sniffle.

“Hey,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could, “what’s the hubbub about, bug? Aren’t you having fun?”

“I wanna go home!” She sniffled. “Wanna see papa a-and momma!”

He held her close, heart breaking. It was easy for him to forget that she had a family to go back to.

“I know, little lady, I know. But you have to be Ladybug until we can get you back to normal, okay?”

"Don't wanna be Wadybug anymore! I'm Mawinette!"

The world froze in time for one brief moment. There was a feeling of something shattering. Later, Adrien would assume that was him breaking through the enchantment on the miraculous. For now, he was too stunned to form a reply. Instead, he just held her close while she cried. Her tears pulled him out of his stupor before long and he tightened her hold on him.

“I’m sorry, Marinette…” He gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

He was startled again when she became enveloped in a flash of light. When he was done blinking the spots out of his eyes, he noticed that there were still a lot of spots in front of him - except these were the much more familiar black-on-red spots he was used to. The unexpected weight toppled him over and both him and a restored Ladybug tumbled to the ground.

“Geez, kitty, and I thought I was the clumsy one.” She disentangled herself from him and stood tall. Well, as tall as she usually stood. “What happened? Where did the akuma go?”

“You… don’t remember?” It was a struggle to get any words out, but he was doing his best.

“Well, I got hit by the akuma, you caught me, and you just fell…” She looked around and her brow furrowed. “Does the akuma have teleportation powers? Weird.” She waved him on. “Let’s go find them before they can cause any more harm, Chat Noir!”

She swung off, leaving Adrien to stare blankly after her.

How was he going to break the news to her?

#Miraculous Ladybug #AdrienAugust #AdrienAugreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #ml fanfiction #my writing

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fanwarriorfictions · 5 years

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One-

A Stranger Things 2 Fanfic

Chapter Eight- Part Four

They were converting the shed into an interrogation room, making it to where Will would not be able to know where he was at so the mind flayer would not be able to find them. Hopper had thrown everything out of the shed into a giant pile and Steve and Phina were putting up tarp all over the walls.

Steve was up on a step ladder, using a staple gun to put the tarp in place. Phina watched him, ripping pieces of duct tape off to use on the tarp. He had been quiet since they got out here, focusing on his job.

"Are you okay, Steve," she asks, ripping off another piece of tape.

He glances down at her, "I'm fine, why?"

She shrugs, "I just... it seems like something's bothering you."

Steve shakes his head, trying to fight away the heat that rose to his cheeks, he knew exactly what was making him act like this, "I'm fine, Phina, really."

"Is it Nancy," she asks, "her and Jon?"

He sighs, it should be about Nancy, but it isn't, "no, I'm not bothered by them, if anything, I'm happy for them."

"Steve," Phina chides.

He chuckles, "I really am, Phina. I've known for a while now that they liked each other, I was angry about it for a while too but, I don't... it doesn't bother me anymore."

She stares into his eyes, "then what's bothering you now? Don't say you're fine because I can tell you're not, Steve."

Steve smiles down at her, his eyes scanning her face in a way that made her warm all over, "something else has got my attention now, and I'm not sure how she feels."

The door to the shed suddenly opens and everyone starts to pile in. Steve turns away from Phina quickly and goes back to stapling the tarp. Everyone pretends not to notice the redness in Phina's face as they get to work.

While she helps, Phina's mind is not completely on the task at hand, but on what Steve had said. His attention was on something else, someone else other than her sister. The way he had been looking at her suggested who it was, and he was right, she didn't know how to feel about that.

Piece by piece, the walls were covered until it was finally done. Jonathan carried Will out to the shed, setting the unconscious boy down on the chair. Phina helps him tie Will to it and the wooden pole behind it. It pained both of them to do it, but they knew they had to, for not only his sake, but all of theirs'.

They set up blinding white lights behind a chair across from him so he wouldn't be able to see the door and the people behind it. The people closest to him would be trying to get him to remember them, to get him to tell them what they needed to know.

"All right," Hopper says to Joyce, "you ready?"

"Yeah," she says, not taking her eyes off Will.

Hopper nods, swirling around some liquid inside a jug as he walks over to the boy. He kneels in front of him, pouring the liquid onto a cotton ball. He holds the cotton beneath Will's nose for a moment. Everyone jumps as Will gasps awake.

Will looks all around him, at the people surrounding him. Joyce, Jonathan, Phina, Mike, and Hopper. He starts to move, realizing he is tied down.

"What? What," he grunts, "what is this? What? What is this? Why am I tied up?"

Joyce kneels down in front of him, "Will, we just wanna talk to you. We're not gonna hurt you."

"Where am I," Will asks.

Hopper kneels down next to Joyce, the drawing of the mind flayer in his hands, "you recognize this? Do you recognize this?"

Will shakes his head, staring at the drawing in Hopper's hand.

"Hey," Joyce whispers calmly, "we wanna help you. But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it."

"Why am I tied up," Will yells again, "why am I tied up? Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up?"

Hopper and Joyce try to calm him down. His anger rises along with his voice. The lights in the room begin to flicker and Phina pulls Mike into her side, grabbing Jonathan's hand tightly in her own.

His yelling continues, "why am I tied up? Let me go! Let me go! let me go! Let me go!"

Jon's eyes begin to tear up as he watches his brother and Phina grips his hand tighter, her eyes burning as she tries not to cry as well.

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" Hopper holds the struggling boy back as Joyce looks away from him. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go. Let me go. Let me... go."

He slowly calms down, his breathing heavy. Hopper pulls away from him as the boy stops fighting. Joyce stares at Will and he stares back, his eyes without emotion. Joyce sits in the chair across from her son, leaning on her knees to get closer to him.

"Do you know what March 22nd is," she asks him, "it's your birthday. Your birthday. When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons. Do you remember that? It was 120 colors. And all of your friends, they got you Star Wars toys, but all you wanted to do was draw with all your new colors. And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie it... it was your spaceship. A rainbow ship is what you called it. And you must have used every color in the box. I took that with me to Melvald's and I put it up, and I told everyone who came in, my son drew this. And you were so embarrassed. But I was so proud. I was so, so proud."

The room was silent, all of them staring down at Will, pleading for any sort of reaction. There was none. Will didn't show any sign that he had even heard what she said.

"Do you remember the day Dad left," Jonathan suddenly asks, letting go a Phina's hand to kneel next to Joyce, "we stayed up all night building Castle Byers... just the way you drew it. And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering... You'd miss the nail every time. And then it started raining, but we stayed out there anyway. We were both sick for like a week after that, Phina made us chicken noodle soup every time we asked for it even though she was a terrible cook then. But we just had to finish it, didn't we? We just had to."

"Do you remember the first day that we met," Mike asks, tears streaming down his cheeks, "it was... It was the first day of Kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends and... I just felt so alone and so scared, but... I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you and... I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend... And you said yes. You said yes... It was the best thing I've ever done."

"I remember the first time I showed you my drawings," Phina says, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks, "you were so excited and so awestruck at my stupid little doodles. You told me, when I grow up, I'm going to be an artist, just like you, Phina. You grabbed every single one of your drawings and showed them to me, even the ones off the fridge that you had shown me every single day, wanting me to see what you could do, wanting me to say your drawings were good because you thought I was the best artist there was. After that, we sat in your room and drew for hours. We didn't come out until our fingers were cramping and our hands were completely covered in crayon and graphite. I have all of those drawings from that day, all of the ones you've ever given me, all of them, tucked away in three different scrapbooks. Whenever I'm feeling sad, I look at those drawings, your drawings, and I can't help but smile because they bring me nothing but joy, Will."

"Will," Joyce says, leaning forward, "baby... if you're in there, just, please... please talk to us. Please, honey, please, can you do that for me? Please. I love you so much."

Will trembles, like he heard them like he was about to cry, "let me go."

Everyone's hearts break. It hadn't worked, they hadn't gotten Will back. Or did they? Hopper looks at the kid, his eyes going down to his hand which taps rhythmically on the bottom of the chair. His eyes narrow as he watches the taps. That's when it hits him, they had gotten to Will.

-1524 words-

I love this chapter. One because of that little Steve and Phina scene at the beginning ;) and two because of the story Phina told Will, I honestly began to tear up a little when I wrote it if I'm being one hundred percent honest. I love the relationship Phina has with the Byers, even though it hasn't been seen much this season, it's one of my favorite parts about Phina, she went from having nothing to having a big, loving family with the Wheelers, the Byers, and the kids in the Party. Anyway, enough rambling did you like this chapter, I hope you did!

-Morgan

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic #strangerthings #slow burn #one #romance

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deathloveshischicagopizza · 6 years

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So I'm writing a VLD fic

@comfortably-chaotic-mind I'm tagging you bc you know this fic and I'm sure you'll want to hear this lol plus this is kind of a funny story...sorry for the long post though

Everybody else, I'm very very very sorry you have to put up with this but I'm really upset about this right now so I gotta get this out

Basically, Keith's dad was super close with the latest Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison. Like I'm not sure what happened with them (maybe graduated together?? or the admiral taught him some life lesson??? idk) but Kogane trusts Dos Santos with his LIFE okay

And he basically says that Dos Santos is Keith's godfather in his will

So when Kogane dies...Dos Santos shows up and is like bitch u ain't takin this boi to the home

So Keith becomes like the housecat-ghostboy-orphan of the Galaxy Garrison. He likes sitting with the old people, climbing in the rafters, and sneaking around to scare the shot out of the cadets.

He's also an avid reader. (A personal headcanon of mine but blown up to a massive proportion.)

Like I mean this boy eats books for breakfast lunch and dinner. If he's awake, he's reading. He listens to audio books to fall asleep half the time (the other half of the time he's blasting Disturbed or FOB or something edgy like that).

This boy has read every book that could even VAGUELY be considered interesting.

Okay, let me just tell you:

The average school library has a ratio of between 10 and 20 books per student.

Let's say the Garrison has 5000 students (just larger than West Points cadet count) and their ratio is small at 10. That's 50000 books in the library.

Probably 10000 are extra copies or second/third/twelfth editions of the same books (going by the ratio of 1/5 that my school had). That's still 40000.

I'm gonna be nice and say that 500 are reference books, another 500 are random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category), 25000 are nonfiction, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith is almost 13 at this point in the story.

As an avid reader myself, I started reading at four. Keith started at five in the story.

I was six when I read my first 200pager. So was Keith.

So let's say he started on the smallest books in the Garrison at age 5. That's 500 in a year. About a book and a half a day.

Boom. Down to 35500 books in the library.

(As we all know, I hope, the library will rotate books, causing the number to fluctuate a bit. But let's say for the sake of math that it stays this way)

His dad already gets supplies from the Garrison (because he lives on Garrison property shhh it makes sense) so he starts asking for more books because Keith is just eating them up.

So the countdown to 15000 starts.

This is where I should explain that I literally lived down the road from a small town library until I was ten years old. I know what it's like to have access to books. I went to the library with my uncle every saturday afternoon. The librarian knew my name and used to come to my soccer games when he could. He was my best friend.

I remember when I was about seven I started getting frustrated because I would go through all my books in the first few days of the week and then be out until Saturday. I started taking my bookbag with me. I made my uncle (in his teens) take one, too. We crammed anywhere from thirty to sixty books into those bags and carried more with us.

The only reason we got away with it (because there was a 20 book limit) was because we had six library cards between the three of us--i had mine and my mom's, my uncle had his, his best friends, and my grandma's, and the library dude was nice enough to lend us his if we needed it.

So yeah. On a good week, I got about seventy books. That's ten books a day.

(I should explain that I still went to school. I went to public school with plenty of kids who hated reading enough for all of us. I had teachers who either insisted I was some kind of genius--i wasnt--or banished me to the hallway for reading Jane Austen during reading time when they specifically said to pick something at the class reading level. I know this life. It's kinda sucky.)

So yeah. Ten books a day, seven days a week, for fifty-two weeks. I got through the entire small-town library (4000 books) in just over a year.

Yes, I even read the reference books. Yes, I had to ask for help with some of the more sophisticated books in the library. (Yes, I skipped a few of the research books. I was eight. Sue me.)

What I'm saying is that it is realistic for me to have Keith reading 5 or 6 thousand books a year for eight years, because in this story he has LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE TO DO.

His dad homeschools him without schooling him at all (unschooling, look it up on wikipedia--yes I know it probably doesn't work like that, but it's my AU and I do what I want). Then his dad dies when he's just over eight and he's alone in the house for a year. Just books to keep him company.

Then (after meeting Sam Holt) he starts trekking out to the Garrison, creeping around the halls and camping out in the library when he feels like it.

He makes friends with the campus librarian. Professors give him books for his birthday. At twelve, he got Sam and Dos Santos to help him build a room onto the old shack so his books weren't just lying wherever in the house. The room has twelve bookcases (three on each wall) each with five shelves (60 shelves total) and full of books (about 2000 books total, give or take).

He doesn't socialize a lot (he's still Keith) but it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that he's awkward (he's still KEITH). If people would stick around for a while (more than ten minutes), he's actually really cool and funny, even if he's a little defensive/shorttempered/oblivious/clueless.

(Just because you're smart and read a lot doesn't mean you understand everything. Just because you know how to make jokes doesn't mean you always catch them or that you understand idioms or innuendos or anything that isn't straight talk.)

His jokes are literature based. He uses sarcasm a lot even though half the time it comes out wrong. He identifies with both Darcy and Elizabeth on a spiritual level.

He has a room at Dos Santos' that has a bookcase full of composition notebooks, themselves full of notes on all the books he's read, little doodles of scenes he really likes, and jokey little summaries of long reference passages.

He's a nerd who never had to learn how to socialize with real people. He LIKES people. He's not a robot, and he doesn't automatically hate you on sight.

He's just been through a lot in his life, and he's still just a lonely little kid.

Anyway. Keith reads about twenty fiction/short books some days, four longer reference/textbook books other days. It varies. It took him six hours to get through Under the Dome, and there was one time he read eleven aeronautics manuals in eight hours and then passed out for fourteen, but mostly he takes longer for reference books/textbooks than fiction books/memoirs.

Also he's read the dictionary/thesaurus like forty times by the time he's thirteen and he shows ZERO sign of stopping. It's basically a religion at this point.

So let me break this down again:

Garrison library has 50,000 books. Minus 10,000 because they're copies/lame editions. That's 40,000 books.

1000 are reference books or random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category) books, 25000 are nonfiction/memoir/diagram based/school or lesson based, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith starts reading at five. His first five hundred are done when he's six--he starts on the next five hundred and finishes within months. His dad starts asking for larger shipments.

By the time Keith is seven, he's read 2000 books.

We're down to 38,000 books in the Garrison library.

Between seven and eight, he reads another 3000. Down to 35,000 books in the Garrison library.

A couple months later (500 books down, 34,500 to go) his dad dies. He's alone in the house for 10 months, only books to keep him company.

He reads another 4,000 books in this time. By the time he turns nine, he's reading at a high school level. 30,500 to go.

Sam visit on his ninth birthday. He brings more books, invites him to visit the Garrison sometime. The librarian could use some company.

Keith does.

By the time he's ten, he's read another 6,500 books. It's a really good year. 24,000 to go.

Age 10-11: 6,000 books. 18,000 to go.

Age 11-12: 5,750 books.12,250 to go

He's turning 13 in a few weeks. This year he has so far read 5,375 books. He wants to hit 5500 again. For the five year anniversary.

It's not a good year. He's not feeling great. He starts talking to Matt more than he used to. Matt pushes him a little. He says he can do it. Keith believes him. He's never lied to him before.

(That Keith knows of. What goes to his benefit is unnecessary knowledge for him.)

He hits 5,500. 6,750 to go.

This is where I am now.

Now by all accounts, there are a few notes I should make.

There is a portion of books at Keith's home that he has not read. They are books the librarian gave him because she knew he hadn't read them before they were getting rotated out for a new shipment. This is probably 500 books.

That makes the total 7,250.

Less than ten thousand.

He has read 33,250 books in eight years (ages 5 to 13). Average: 4156.25 books per year, 11.3 books per day.

I'm almost twenty and I read 55,383 books between the ages of 4 and 18 (between the first book I read at home and the last book I read before my graduation ceremony). Average: 3955.93~ books per year, 10.8 books per day.

I didn't have a lot of friends. I was bffs with every librarian I met/had. In 10th grade world history we had to give one cool/weird fact in an introductory assignment and I told them I had read every book in the school library. No one believed me. I told them I could prove it. She said go ahead.

"I have read every book in the school library. The librarian can vouch for me. They have not rotated their books since I was in eighth grade. My grandmother works here, so I know. There are exactly 17,488 books in the library, not including extra copies or "editions" like all they did was change two sentences in the intro that's hardly new information. But whatever. I started reading that year. I made a list of every book i read that year. There were 3272. That's 14216 to go--all of which were in the fiction and nonfiction sections. My grandmother checked them out. If you go into her records from that year and take that list and add it to my list from last year in 9th grade, you'll see that I read every single book. I started with the reference section that year and then went to the manga, then the nonfiction, then the historical fiction, then the fantasy fiction. I had already read most of the books in the fiction section. 6,791 out of 7,918 to be exact. That's 7425 to go. I'd also read 3577 if the 6298 nonfiction books. That's 3848 to go. Over the course of the last school year, which lasted exactly 42 weeks, I checked out 30 books every Monday and 50 books every Thursday. That's eighty books every week. Times 42, that's 3360. 488 left. I hung out with my grandmother while she worked over the summer. I kept my reading up, only for the first half. By the end of July--the 29th--I had read the rest. That's nine books a day every day. Don't believe me? Ask the librarian."

So the teacher did.

She put the librarian on speakerphone.

The librarian went on a full ten minute rant about how ridiculously difficult it was checking out fifty books at a time.

My history teacher wouldn't come within 2ft of my desk until after holiday break, and she didn't go into the library at all that year.

Moral of the story: IT IS TOTALLY LOGICAL/ACCEPTABLE THAT I HAVE KEITH READING OVER 30,000 BOOKS IN EIGHT YEARS IN THIS FIC OKAY PLEASE DON'T COME AT ME OVER THIS

#me #omg #mine #my post #long post #sorry for the rant #sorry for the spam #sorry for the long post #rant #my rant #reading #keith reads a lot okay #my fic #voltron fic #my vld fic that i'm writing

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akselhaddock · 6 years

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ALL ABOUT — 𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌

a comprehensive look into the mind and character of aksel haddock. the purpose of this guide is to educate, explore, and explain the complexities behind aksel’s personality. in this guide i will explain some of the many headcanons, themes, and quirks i’ve gathered for him over time.

+ witty, skilled, quiet, intelligent, inventive, problem-solving – cynical, irritable, blunt, distant, hopeless, guilt-ridden, lost, sarcastic

o v e r v i e w :

aksel wasn’t always like this. that’s the excuse people make for him, the people who knew him before the accident. when his energy filled a room, when his sense of adventure rivaled his father’s, when his recklessness and determination matched his mother’s, when he had another half of himself with whom he fit perfectly. eirik was everything to aksel — more than a best friend, more than family. where one went, the other followed. both were bright, trouble-making, meddlesome, intelligent, brave, stupid boys; but one’s light would burn out too fast. a dare to steal an egg from a screaming death was what got eirik killed. the scene was gruesome — after all it was a screaming death — and aksel was never the same after that. the adventurous, innovative, creative, reckless boy who was caused a ruckus and made incredible inventions was gone. he’d died alongside eirik, everyone could see it. and maybe that’s why none of them blamed him for the other boy’s death, because he was torturing himself enough.

t h e m e : grief, guilt & sense-of-self

aksel’s main personality point at the moment is his overwhelming guilt and grief over eirik’s death. he loved eirik, more than words can express. it was a platonic love, and later a romantic love. aksel never realized, at least not consciously. he always knew his relationship with eirik couldn’t be described as just a friendship. maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he lost him, or maybe it was the fact that it was his fault. a dare. “i dare you to climb up to that screaming death nest and take one of her eggs.” that’s what did it. a stupid, irresponsible, pointless dare that would have gotten them into trouble with his dad anyway. aksel shut himself off after that. no one else blamed him, not really, but aksel blamed himself. he continues to blame himself. that guilt, that grief he’s been feeling for so many years has eaten him alive.

beyond that, aksel doesn’t know who he is without eirik. they were a packaged deal for so long. they grew up together, spent all of their time together; they were practically inseparable. and since eirik’s death, aksel has yet to find out who he is without his other half. that’s his main journey. when you lose someone you love deeply, there are aspects of you that will never be the same. the things you shared together, the part of your personality that was brought out only by that person will be gone. or, at the very least, it’ll be different. and that’s okay, that’s part of life. but aksel hasn’t accepted that yet. he knows he’ll never be the same without eirik, and aksel doesn’t want to grow. aksel doesn’t want to discover who he is without eirik, he doesn’t want to move on.

that’s his theme. when you spent your entire life defining yourself in tandem with another person, and then that person is gone — and it’s your fault — how do you grow? how do you change? what part of you dies along with them and then is reborn into something new? beyond all of the smaller plots within aksel’s development, his sense-of-self, forgiving himself and overcoming his grief will be his main focal point.

a e s t h e t i c :

dragon scales glinting in sunlight, the view of the earth from the sky, the smell of smoke in the forge, glowing hot metal, thunder rumbling in the distance, heavy rainfall against a glass window, the smell of hot cocoa, charcoal against parchment, leather-bound books, calloused hands, holding back unshed tears, that feeling of exhaustion when you want to sleep but you can’t, the darkest part of the morning just before the sun starts to rise, the wind against your face, the smell of saltwater, the bitter cold of a harsh winter

h e a d c a n o n s :

aksel has a dragon named valhalla (”val” for short) she’s a sand wraith, a medium-sized tidal class dragon that’s an expert in camouflage.

aksel and val have been partners since he was a baby and she was a hatchling. they bonded at an incredibly early age, and have grown up together

valhalla’s scales are a dusty brown, almost grey with spots of charcoal grey

as a dragon rider, aksel specialized in speed and stealth. while val’s fire attacks weren’t the most powerful and didn’t burn the hottest, her speed, silent flying, and knack for camouflage gave her an edge, especially in forest and mountainous environments

since aksel has been away, valhalla makes a habit of sitting by the spot where the portal opened up, hoping that maybe it will reappear and aksel will step through it

aksel is more intelligent than he’d readily show. much like hiccup, he has a knack for the forge and invention

he used to sit with hiccup in his workshop, watching his dad work to develop new innovations for the island. it’s what sparked aksel’s interest in the forge, metal working, and tinkering with trinkets

aksel, when he was younger, was so much like both hiccup and astrid. he was adventurous, loving, curious, had a strong sense of justice, stubborn, witty, intelligent. as he grew, he also developed their recklessness and tendency to not listen to orders

astrid @ hiccup when aksel wouldn’t do what he was told: “he’s your son”

hiccup @ astrid when he’d disregard what she’d said: “he’s your son”

he was trained in combat, although alva was always better at it than him. aksel was good and could hold his own, but was much better with his dragon

aksel can draw! he’s not really a creative artist, and used his skills more for his inventions and doodling pictures of val

he hasn’t drawn anything in years

aksel is demisexual and demiromantic. he doesn’t feel primary attraction to someone, but he does feel secondary attraction. it’s one of the reasons he was so effortlessly able to fall in love with eirik long after they were already close. those feelings of trust and friendship are what he needs to start to feel something for someone

he has yet to feel sexually attracted to someone. he could have felt it with eirik, had his friend lived and they’d had a romantic relationship he felt comfortable and confident in

aksel doesn’t know what his sexuality is yet. berk didn’t really have a comprehensive education on sexualities, and aksel was just noticing his romantic feelings for eirik when he died. since then, his grief has been his main focus

if asked, he wouldn’t really know what to answer. he knows he felt something for eirik (doesn’t know it was love), so boys are a thing. but he’s not uninterested in girls, because he’s not interested in anyone like he feels like he should be — how everyone else seems to be interested

unfortunately, it will take him some time to put a name to his orientation. seeing as he doesn’t let himself get close to people, and he needs to be close to someone to start feeling anything for them beyond friendship, he’s in a bit of a stand still self-discovery wise

his major is mechanics with a focus in industrial design, because that was what his parents put when they filled out his form to attend wda

surprisingly aksel is actually a good student. he couldn’t stand failing, even if he has a major sense of apathy towards everything else. however, in his mechanics/ID classes he puts in the minimal amount of effort to pass

i am sure his teachers see the potential in him, but aksel is so stubborn to stop himself from doing any of the things he used to love that he refuses to shine like he really could

definitely has a shitty participation grade

he does want friends, deep down. there is definitely a part of him that wants people to care for him again

aksel doesn’t really watch tv. they didn’t have it on berk, and he finds it somewhat mundane and mindless. that being said, sometimes he’ll turn on the tv to some useless channel just to have noise

aksel would majorly benefit from therapy

would go out on a limb and say he’s the least favorite of the 12

even his own sister can’t stand his bad attitude and misery ouch

compared to other viking settlements, berk is somewhat progressive in its view towards women. however, it still has a long ways to go

aksel never really noticed (typical) until he stopped caring about everything and everyone. it was then that he took notice to the difference in the way his parents and the village treated him and his sister

he’s actually glad that she’s here, and thinks she should have been the one they sent in the first place. she’d do so much better here than he ever would, and she actually wanted to be here as far as he could tell

doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be home, doesn’t want to be anywhere

sometimes he just likes to piss off the other exchange students because he knows they all probably hate him. he gets a sick sort of satisfaction at irritating them so much that they leave him alone

and then he feels keenly and wholly lonely

he still hasn’t gotten used to computers, so he handwrites things first. as such, he carries a journal with him

it has some of his old, old sketches in it, as well as a little message eirik wrote on the corner of one page

it reads “hey, pay attention to me”

aksel hasn’t looked at that message in years, but he still keeps it with him and knows it’s there

q u i r k s :

all things considered, aksel’s physical and verbal quotes are quite subtle. they didn’t used to be, but he’s much more subdued and closed off now than he was before. he still has some quirks, but they’re fewer and far more subtle

rubs his neck when he’s nervous

aksel frowns, pouts, and furrows his brows when he’s confused — it’s actually really cute until he opens his mouth and inevitably says something rude

his eyebrows are the most expressive feature on his face for sure

they pinch together when he’s thinking

they arch skeptically when he’s questioning someone on their bullshit

he hasn’t smiled sincerely in a long time, but if he were to find something amusing he’d smirk and have this teasing, amused glint in his eyes

aksel taps his pencil against his thumb when he’s thinking through something he’s about to write

he narrows his eyes when he’s mad

he actually has a hard time holding eye contact with someone he’s having a pleasant conversation with. he tends to avert his gaze and only glance at them every so often

he’s an observant person and has a habit of looking at people when they aren’t looking at him, especially if he’s talking to them

he fiddles with things when he’s nervous

he used to shake his foot when he was frustrated while thinking through a project, but he hasn’t worked on anything in years

#☁ — ❝ musings. ❞#☁ — ❝ headcanons. ❞

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littlespoonevan · 7 years

Note

you saved my life with and we'll be running. THAT WAS SO GOOD!!! I mean, my life will never be the same again!!! you write so well!! any chances that you write the scene wheres andrews plays talk me down in his pov?? pal i almost cried in that scene, TMD is my favorite song!! thank you so much for writing this fic!! i love you. and i will stop being creep now, im just excited

i mean first of all, thank you so much holy shit???????????? that’s such an amazing compliment????? i’m really glad you enjoyed it :’) second of all i’m sorry this took so long but jfc writing this scene from andrew’s pov was so hard??? like i found it difficult enough to write from neil’s pov without also trying to get into andrew’s head? but i tried my best so i hope it’s what you’ve been looking for!!!

song used is Talk Me Down - Troye Sivan

Andrew feels the panic that has been seizing in hischest the last couple of days unwind just the slightest bit when he finally hasNeil safe and whole in his apartment and he hates it.

He hates that Neil has affected him so deeply. Thathe’s somehow managed to dig his fingers in and burrow beneath Andrew’s skin tothe point where Andrew feels a bone-rattling terror at the thought of losinghim.

He thinks he might hate it more because he knows hefailed Neil.

He promised to protect him. He promised Neil thatRiko wouldn’t touch him and he failed.Neil almost fucking died because of him. He hates the way he feels about Neil.He hates Neil. But mostly, he hates himself.

His knuckles are white where they’re clenched aroundthe notebook in his hand and it takes all his self-control not to rip it toshreds and light the pieces on fire. He doesn’t like looking at it; he usuallyonly ever reaches for it in the dark – when he can’t sleep and his defences arelowered just enough that he feels like writing something down.

When he hears the front door click shut after Abbyand Wymack he carries himself into the living room where Neil has set up campon his couch. He looks too small still, small and fragile with a bruise on hischeekbone and a split lip.

Andrew forces himself to throw the notebook into Neil’slap even though parting with it makes him feel sick. He might as well have sawnoff his arm and handed Neil that instead – though he thinks even that might notbe as revealing as what he just gave Neil.

Neil stares down at it, perplexed, hand sliding overthe cover and making Andrew want to shiver as if Neil had touched his own spineand not the book’s. “What’s this?” Neil asks finally, gaze wandering back up toAndrew’s.

“You wanted to see my songs.” The words taste likeash on Andrew’s tongue but he forces them out anyway.

Neil’s eyes drop right back down to the notebook,mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ shape as he stares at it with new kind of expressionon his face – somewhere between shock and confusion. “Why are you giving this to me?”

Andrew huffs, hands clenching and unclenching at hissides as he looks for a way out. Finding none, he settles on, “I broke mypromise.”

Neil’s head snaps up so quickly Andrew’s surprised hedoesn’t wince at the feeling of it. “No you didn’t.” He stares at Andrew and,finding no change his expression, presses on. “Andrew, no you didn’t. Riko’s the one to blame here and as far as I’mconcerned he got his penance. This isn’t my fault and it’s not yours either. Incase you’re forgetting, you’re the one who found me.”

He’s earnest and fervent and so fucking stubborn,Andrew can’t stand him.

“Because Jean and Kevin-“

“And who else was quick enough to lose the thug Rikohad following them?” Neil challenges. “If you hadn’t gotten to me as fast asyou did who knows what would’ve happened?”

Andrew glares at him, swallowing down the venomcreeping up his throat. “I promised you I wouldn’t let him touch you.”

“And he won’t anymore,” Neil says simply, quieterthan they’d been talking before. He looks down at his lap again, index fingertracing over the cover once more before he does something Andrew doesn’texpect. He holds the notebook back out to him.

Andrew stares at his outstretched hand. “You wanted-“

“Not like this,” Neil shakes his head. “I want toread your lyrics but only if you want me to. Not because you’re punishingyourself.”

Andrew fucking hates him. He hates the way Neil canread him so clearly without even having to try. He snatches the book back whenhe decides he can’t look at Neil anymore and storms out of the room.

His own bedroom feels claustrophobic with the doorclosed but he needs to be alone. He spends the afternoon in there with thecurtains drawn, sitting in the darkest corner of the room while he tries to makesense of the tangled mess of his head. Neil makes him feel things. Things henever wanted to and never knew he could feel. He’d thought this part of himselfdied long ago, until Neil had stumbled into his life and suddenly turned thevolume up full blast.

He leaves his room once to make sure Neil eats but hecan’t stay in the living room with him while he does.

Panic is still clawing at his throat, twisting him inknots so tightly he feels he might choke with it.

He lies on his bed when he returns to his room, eyesfixated on the nightstand where he’d dropped the notebook earlier. There’s asong in there, words that had been niggling at the back of his head for toolong. Words that he’d very briefly spilled to Neil one day on a plane with apen in one hand and Neil’s palm in the other.

The thought of singing it scares him in a way thatheights never have.

But the fact that part of him actually wants Neil to hear scares him even more.

It’s hours later when he’s about to go to bed that hemakes a split second decision and goes to the living room instead. Neil isstill awake, doodling in his own notebook, and he startles when he noticesAndrew.

“Come on,” Andrew says before walking away again,tracing a familiar path through his apartment until he reaches his music room.

Neil finds him not long after, already sitting on thepiano bench and staring at the keys like they’ll have an answer for him.

“I didn’t know you played,” Neil says quietly andAndrew glances at him over his shoulder, only looking away when Neil drawscloser.

“Sometimes,” Andrew admits, moving to one side of thebench so Neil can sit beside him.

He watches the way Neil’s fingers caress the keys,not pressing down, just ghosting over them in something like curiosity. Oradmiration.

“I told you I finished the lyric.” Andrew saysfinally and Neil turns to him.

“Andrew, you don’t have to-“

Andrew shakes his head because if Neil talks he’llnever work up the nerve to do this ever again. “Just- shut up.”

Neil stops and Andrew looks away from him, focusingon the keys instead. It’s the only thing that lets him play. He blocks Neilout, spreads his fingers out over the keys and opens his mouth to sing.

“I wanna sleep next to you But that's all I wanna do right now And I wanna come home to you But home is just a room full of my safest sounds…”

He can feel Neil’s eyes onhim and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up but he forceshimself to continue.

This is about Neil. But it’salso about him a little bit.

It’s Andrew taking thatstep off the ledge and letting himself fall for once. He’s letting Neil knowhow he feels about him in a way they both understand. But he’s also lettinghimself just- feel. He’s not choking back the words or hiding them beneath amask of impassivity. He’s just being.

He thinks idly Betsy wouldbe proud of him.

He sings, “Come overnow and talk me down,” and part of him still shrinks away from how true thewords are. How there’s a pressing, intrusive thought at the back of his headthat’s just begging Neil to save him. He doesn’t need saving and he doesn’tthink Neil could anyway even if he tried; Andrew is definitely too far gone.But asking Neil to simply be there feels just as vulnerable.

He finishes the song witha lump in his throat that he pointedly ignores, voice trailing off until it’shardly above a whisper by the time he reaches the final lyric. His fingersstill on the piano and he holds himself frozen, staring at the music sheetswith unseeing eyes while he processes what he’s just done.

Neil’s fingers are cold onthe underside of his chin and gently tilt Andrew’s head until they’re gazesslide to meet one another.

“Thank you,” Neilwhispers, a quiet kind of incredulity in his voice. “You were amazing.”

Neil’s gaze flickers fromAndrew’s eyes to his mouth and he takes an agonisingly long time to close thedistance between them. But when he does it feels like the moment after anexhale, like the moment of coming up for air after you’ve been holding yourbreath for too long.

Andrew’s never been sograteful to take a breath in his entire life.

#never sleeping again #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxhole court #asks #my fics #band au

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nastytrashblog · 7 years

Text

Stigma (Wings Fanfic)

A/N: I wrote this for 7 hours straight, I wanted to finish this before the weekend, but I woke up late and corrected it just now. This is the longest fanfic out of all so far. It’s 6,254 words, I struggle with a 1000 word essay, but I can make this? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Fluff, bit of angst, suggestions of smut, high school au, V x Reader

Tae, are you okay?” You saw him in the corner of his room and walked towards him.

“No, I’m a monster.” He cries and shoves his face in between his knees.

3 years ago

“Class this is (y/n).” You just moved schools. You were in grade 11 and moving was harder now than it was before in grade 2, or 6, or grades 7 and 8. Your mom basically moved around the whole country for work. Okay that may be an exaggeration, but anywhere she had to move, you went with her. Your dad was a housewife, or a househusband if that’s even a word. He did work at home fixing computers and taking out the viruses. It wasn’t really an “under the table” job. Okay maybe it was, but he does get good pay. He receives a lot from his customers, and it helps keep the family going. You were an only child, but if you had a sibling, it would make the situation a lot harder. You didn’t keep any close friends because you moved around a lot. You were kind of lonely. However, your mom said for sure, that you are not moving anymore.

Everyone had their eyes on you. You felt nervous, but at the same time excited.

“(Y/n) you can go sit at the back seat there in the corner.” You nodded and went to the back. Your seat was right by the window. You looked out at the sky like it was some kind of scene in a movie or those shoujo animes. “It would be so weird if a guy came up to me just-” you were in the middle of your thoughts when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to a brown haired boy in a grey hoody and black pants.

“Do you have a pencil?” “Is this dude serious? He came to school without a pencil.” You looked on his desk, there was nothing but a textbook. You sigh and look in your bag for your pencil case.

“Need paper too?” You ask. You might as well offer it now before he bothers you later. He nodded and you took out 4 pieces of lined paper and a pencil. You handed it to him and didn’t even thank you. “What’s the deal with him?” In a blink of an eye, your class was done. You took out your timetable to see what class you had next. “Ugh, I have math.” Just then, someone picked up your timetable in a swift motion before you could even react.

“Hey! That’s mi-” You look beside you to see the same guy that took your pencil and didn’t even say thanks.

“You have every class with me, weird. Except for… law? You take law?” He looked up at you confused and raised up his eyebrow. You immediately take the paper out of his hand and shove that and the rest of your stuff in your bag.

“Yeah, is there something wrong with that?” You say without making any eye contact.

“Nope, nothing at all.” You get up swinging your bag across your shoulder and he does as well. You walk out the door and he trailed behind. You turned around and looked at him. You didn’t realize it until now, but he was exceptionally tall.

“Why are you following me?” He laughed and looked at you.

“I’m not following you. We have the same classes, but it seems that you need my help because math, it’s that way.” He pointed his thumb behind him. You stomp down the hall in the direction he said to go as he walked behind you. You finally reached math class and looked for an empty spot. You sat down at the back of the class and the guy sat in the desk beside you. You took out your sketchbook and pencil and drew. You try to ignore him, but 3 boys sat around him and started to talk.

“Sup man? Did you do the homework?” One asked.

“Nah, but I know Namjoon would’ve. I planned to copy off of him.” He laughs. One dude hit him in the arm, you guessed he was Namjoon.

“You have to do your own work, I won’t be saving you ass all the time.” Namjoon opened his bag and gave him a copy of the homework. He took it and thanked him. “Huh, I guess he knows how to say thank you, but he didn’t bother to say thanks to me.” He took out your pencil and started to copy it down.

“I didn’t know you preferred pink pencils.” The one in front of him said.

“It’s not mine, it’s hers.” He pointed at you with his pencil. You turn to them and all their eyes looked at you while he was busy writing.

“Oh, new friend Tae?” Namjoon said. “Tae? That’s his name?”

“I’m Jimin. That’s Jungkook, and that nerd is Namjoon.” The one in front of Tae pointed out. You didn’t know how to react. You feel frustrated for some reason. “Why is this Tae guy getting me in these situations? I’m awkward af, how do I respond to this? Just act cool. No be yourself, always be yourself.”

“Umm, hi-i.” Your voice cracks. “I cannot believe that just happened!” You clear your throat and try again.

“I’m (y/n).” You give them a faint smile and look back down on your sketchbook and continued to sketch.

“Whatcha sketchin there?” Jungkook gets up from his desk and stands behind you.

“Just doodling.” “Why am I being nice to him? Well, I guess he didn’t do anything, yet at least.” Jimin and Namjoon get up as well and crowd around your desk. Tae stayed seated trying to finish copying before the class starts.

“That’s pretty cool! What is it?” Jimin asked.

“It looks like a man with snakes as legs holding a whip in one hand and a ball in another with branches around it.” Namjoon explained. (A/N: this is the symbol that was on the garage door that Taehyung was vandalizing in his teaser. In Jin’s awake teaser, it is the wallpaper in the hallway so that’s how I know. Okay back to the story.)

“I don’t know. Wherever my hand moves, that what I draw. I don’t really think about it, I just get carried away.” You respond still looking down and shading in the figure.

“Here you go Namjoon, I’m done.” Tae said hitting his hand on his arm while holding the papers. Namjoon’s attention went from you to him and took the papers back. The teacher walked in telling everyone to get to their seats. You put away your sketchbook and took out grid paper. He then did attendance. “Jungkook.” “Here.” “Namjoon.” “Here.” “Taehyung.” “Here.” “Taehyung? I guess Tae is his nickname.” “Jimin.” “Here.” he went down the list and asked if he missed anyone. You raised up your hand and asked for your timetable.

“I see, you just moved here. And your name is?” He asked.

“(Y/f/n and l/n).” He wrote down your name at the bottom of his list and smiled at you.

“Well (y/n), welcome to my class. I’m Mr. Kim if you don’t already know. I guess we should start now, you may go back to your seat.” You went back and opened to page 10 as instructed and listened to the teacher. However, you saw in the corner of your eye Tae looking at you. You turned your head to him and he turned his away. You stared at him until he looked back. You pointed to the front of the board and he gave you a mocking face. You gave him one back and he sneered, and faced the board. You let out a smile and pay attention for the rest of the class.

Lunch eventually came and Tae invited you to sit with him and his friends. You agreed because it was either that, or sitting in the washroom stall. Both of you got your lunches and he guided you to a table filled with boys, some that you already recognized.

“Hey guys, this is (y/n). You already know Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. That’s Hoseok, Yoongi, Jin and Mark.” He sat down beside Jimin and you sat across from him beside Mark.

“So how do you know Tae?” Hoseok asked.

“He’s in every single one of my classes.” You respond.

“Except law.” Tae added with his mouth full of his sandwich.

“Aww, I’m sorry. That must suck.” Yoongi said. They all laugh and you let out a little smile.

“You have a really nice smile (y/n).” Mark said looking at you.

“Ouuu! Does Mark like the new girl?” Jin teased.

“Wha- no!” He turned towards you “Not that there’s anything wrong with you.” he then turned towards Jin, “Why can’t a guy compliment a girl without having the assumption that they like her?”

“Because she’s ugly. Nothing to compliment unless you’re interested.” Tae said while taking another bite. You kicked him from under the table and yelled “ow” with his cheeks still full. You and the whole table laughed. You turned to Mark who was looking at you. “He’s not that bad looking. He has a nice smile, nice eyes, and ouu, those piercings, nice! Wait, what am I doing? I just met him, snap out of it!” You had fun meeting all of Tae’s friends. You exchanged numbers and became friends almost instantaneously. The next thing you knew, lunch was over and it was back to class. You were throwing out your garbage and Mark walked beside you.

“You have science next right?” You turned and faced the almost 6 ft man.

“Yeah, you have it too?” He smiled at you and simply nodded.

“Shall we walk together?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just need to get something from my locker.” He was okay with it and both of you walked together. You reached your locker and switched out your books. You took your science notebook out and put your math and English notebook inside. You look at your mirror and saw Mark staring and smiling at you. You closed your locker and looked at him.

“You seem to be happy.” You said. He scoffed and both of you started to walk to the science department.

“Yeah? Maybe it’s because I was introduced to you.” You felt your cheeks turning red. “Oh no, what’s happening to me? This actually can’t be happening. Do I like Mark?” You slap your cheek and surprised him.

“Are you okay? You slapped yourself pretty hard.” He stopped in front of you and leaned down to look at your face. You stood in shock and covered your face with your hands. He chuckled and moved your hands away from your face.

“Don’t cover that beautiful face of yours.” He smiles. “WHY IS HE COMPLIMENTING ME SO MUCH?! I CAN’T HANDLE IT!” Someone then bumped in between both of you removing his hands away from yours. You looked to your left and saw Taehyung.

“Flirting with her already? Hurry up and get to class, don’t block the halls.” Tae walked into class. You and Mark followed. All three of you sat at the same bench with you beside Tae and Mark in front of you. Class started right away, but you were distracted the whole time. Mark was staring at you and you told him to pay attention many times, it didn’t work. Class was over and all of you went to art. You entered the room saw a table with all of Tae’s friends. “I guess I have class with all of them, should be fun.” Tae rushed to the table and sat. He started to hug Jin.

“Jin, I was third wheeling all of period three!” He said in a baby voice. They all looked at you and Mark.

“You weren’t third wheeling.” You said.

“Yes I was!” He said once more in a baby voice and pretended to cry. Jin shook him off of his arm and you sat down next to Jimin with Mark following you.

“I thought you said you didn’t like her Mark.” Yoongi said looking from you to him.

“I don’t.” He said bluntly. It somehow felt like a spear going through your heart hearing him say that. The lights were turned off and the curtains were closed. A single flashlight in the front turned on and you jumped in your chair.

“Shadows, they’re everywhere!” The next hour and 15 minutes were all fun and games, literally. You had competitions figuring out what the figure is with just its shadow. You got closer to the guys, but most importantly, Mark. You talked the whole time and at one point he put his arm around you.

The day went by fast, but luckily it didn’t stop there for you. You got closer to Taehyung and talked about a lot. He asked about your past and both of you exchanged information, basically playing 21 questions. However, you got closer to Mark as well. It was awkward at first, it seemed so easy to talk to Tae, but you didn’t know how to start a conversation with Mark. You asked Tae for help. He felt weird at first, but then helped you anyways because of your constant pestering. This was usually how your day went. You talked and got closer with Tae during class, got closer to the other during lunch, talked to Tae after school and asked for help for Mark.

One night, you decided to ask Tae to help set both of you up.

“Hey Tae, can you help me again.”

“Ugh, every single day you ask, shouldn’t you know what to do by now?”

“No, not how to talk to him, but kind of, to help me date him?????”

“What? No! I’m not setting you up with my friend.”

“Why not? You’re already helping me to talk to him!”

“As a friend, but not as a girlfriend.”

“Pleaaaaaaaaase!”

“No!”

“PLEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

“NO! NO MEANS NO!”

You started to call him in the middle of the night and he gave in. You thanked him a billion times and he made it happen. It was obvious to everyone, except you, that Mark liked you, so it was easy for Tae.

“Yo Mark!” Tae yelled across the halls and ran to him.

“What’s up?” He turned around and faced Tae.

“You should ask (y/n) out.” He said out of the blue.

“What? We discussed about this. What if she doesn’t like me?” Tae took a deep breath in and out.

“Trust me on this. Oh and when you ask her out, don’t make it big. Buy her flowers, white tulips are her favorite, she thinks roses are overrated, and… Oh! Buy her a teddy bear. Kay thanks bud, see you at lunch.” Tae then ran off to math leaving Mark with what he told him.

When 2nd period ended, you went to your locker before going to the cafeteria. You opened it and saw a note fall.

Come meet me at the garden at lunch, I need to tell you something. ~ Mark

You didn’t know what to do. “Did Tae tell him already? This is too soon!” You looked in the mirror and fixed your hair. You powdered your nose and closed your locker. You went outside and met him there.

“Mark?” You approached him. He turned around holding a bouquet of white tulips. He walked up to you and gave them to you.

“Umm, (y/n), I wanted to tell you something, well I’ve been wanting to ask this for a while actually, but umm…” He stuttered. You found it funny yet cute and let out a giggle. He smiled and took a deep breath.

“(Y/n), will you be my girlfriend?” He got the words out of his mouth. You walked up to him and hugged him. You heard his heart beating faster and faster.

You looked up at him, “I thought you would never ask.” He picked you up and spun you around. You suddenly heard clapping and he put you down. Both of you looked and saw the guys cheering.

“And you said you didn’t like her.” Jungkook laughed.

You dated for the rest of your high school years, and went to prom together.

3 years later

All was good, until university came along. He wanted more, he wanted all of you. You weren’t ready. He was understanding at first, but then he started to get aggravated. He thought that you loved someone else and would hurt you in so many ways. He would make fun of you, call you names, and when he was drunk, he would hit you. You wanted to leave him, but you didn’t know if you still loved him or not. You wanted to make sure before you left him, otherwise, you would regret it. You were still in contact with the others, but didn’t as much. They were busy with their own girlfriends, and some, fiancees, except for Tae. He was there for you, but you never told him what was happening. You had a free week by yourself as Mark had a vacation to Cuba with his family. He couldn’t contact you because a) He didn’t have a worldwide plan so he couldn’t text you, and b) The internet was slow in the lobby. You asked Tae if he was available that week, but you already knew the answer.

“Yo Tae, you awake?”

“Yeah (y/n), what’s up?”

“You down to go out tomorrow?”

“What for?”

“Nothing, I’m just going to be bored for the next 7 days.”

“So I’m just a backup?”

“No, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yeah yeah, okay. Where are we going?”

“Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Anywhere but my house.”

“Wow, very helpful.”

“Okay fine. Amusement park? I wanted to try that new ride.”

“Amusement park it is. I’ll be at your house at 8:00 am.”

“WHY THAT EARLY?! IT’S LIKE 2:00 AM RN! I CAN’T FUNCTION WITH LESS THAN 6 HOURS OF SLEEP!”

“Then you better get off your phone now, good night tae.”

“GRRRRRR U FRUSTRATE ME!”

“Ha, you love me.”

“NO! BYE I NEED SLEEP!”

You didn’t sleep much that night, you were excited for some reason. “Maybe its because I haven’t seen my best friend in forever. Yeah, that’s it.” You stared at the ceiling all night, planning what to do, and which rides to go on first. “It’s going to be a fun day.”

You opened your eyes and hear you alarm blaring in your ears. You got up and got ready. You put on a white shirt, black pants and brought a flannel just in case it gets cold. You wrapped it around your waist and looked in the mirror. “Wow, I look so basic.” You thought. You didn’t really care at this point. You went downstairs and drank milk and ate a cookie. You figured that you’re probably going to wake up Tae when you get there, so you’re going to treat him to a big breakfast. You grab your keys and run out the door excitedly. You jump into your car and call Tae. Of course, he doesn’t answer, so you drive to his house. Once you arrived, you skipped to his front door and rang the doorbell, no answer. You rang again, no answer. You opened his mailbox and looked for the secret compartment that he installed. You opened it and got the spare key. You opened the door quietly and got a glass full of cold water. You crept up the stairs and opened his door. You walked slowly to his bed and poured the water on him.

“GOOD MORNING SLEEPY HEAD!” You yelled at the top of your lungs. He got up and shook his head like a wet dog. He opened his eyes and looked at you with anger. You take that as a sign to run and you did. You ran down the stairs and you heard Tae chasing after you. You luckily got out the door before he could catch you. He always sleeps shirtless wearing nothing but his boxers, so you know he won’t be coming out.

“Get ready, if you’re not out in 5 minutes, I’m not buying you breakfast!” You yelled out. You opened your phone and started your stopwatch. You sat on the bench on his front porch. You heard running down the stairs and him panicking trying to get his shoes on. He got out at exactly 4:58:97.

“Wow, you almost didn’t make it!” You got up and laughed. He had a towel on his head and wore almost the same thing you did. A white t-shirt, a green jacket, black slacks, and timberlands. He looked at himself, then looked up and down at you.

“Oh come on!” He yelled still drying his hair. He tried to go back in, but you pull him out.

“Oh no, you’re going like this if you want to or not.” You grabbed his hand dragged him into your car as he whined. You got into the driver’s seat and turned to him.

“Okay, maybe lose the flannel, I don’t want people to think we’re a couple.” You put the keys in and started to reverse,

“Why? I thought you loved me.” He teased.

“As if!” You scoff. He laughed and was still drying his hair.

“Speaking of love, how are you and Mark?” You didn’t want to talk about it right now. Although he is your best friend, you didn’t want to tell him, not yet anyways.

“It’s fine. So where do you want to eat?” You changed the topic.

“Ouu, I really want to go to caffe Demetre.” He said happily.

“You crazy? You know how expensive that is?” It was at a red light and you looked at him. He did his pouty face which always disgusted you.

“Pwease?” The light turned green and you started to drive again.

“No, you’re getting Mcdonalds.”

“YA! YOU WOKE ME UP THIS EARLY, MADE MY HAIR AND BED WET, AND RUSHED ME TO GET READY! I DESERVE ME SOME DEMETRES!” He yells in your car.

“Okay fine! You have a point.” he smiled and you turned left on your way to demetres. He ordered a lot and the total came out to $80. You barely ate anything except for a part of his waffle.

“Let’s go Tae.” he was standing at the ordering area for take out. He got a plastic bag and walked towards you. “Oh come on, you just ate a billion crepes, and now you’re getting another?!” You say annoyed.

“This isn’t for me, it’s for you. Eat it in the car.” He walked out the door. “Well, that was sweet of him.” You trailed behind and entered the car.

“So, how am I supposed to eat this while driving?” You asked.

“I’ll feed you.” He suggested.

“Oh no, I don’t trust you. I’ll eat it now!” You try to take the crepe, but he moved it away from your reach.

“Wow, the years that we have been friends and you don’t trust me to feed you? I’m hurt.” He said sarcastically. “Just drive us there, you can trust me.” You accepted it and started to drive. You regret doing that because he teased you. Whenever the fork was under your mouth and you opened it, he would pull it away. Luckily, you finished it before you arrived at the amusement park.

You arrived at the ticket booth at 10:00 am and get your ticket to enter. When you stepped onto the park grounds, you took Tae’s hand and started to run to the rollercoaster. The line was already long and both of you waited there for an hour. You had a good talk and caught up with each other’s lives. Throughout the whole day, you would have competitions on who could keep a straight face, or who could eat the most hot dogs in a minute. When you were taking a break, you decided to verse each other at the carnival games. The ring toss was up first. You missed all except for one.

“I swear this is rigged!” You say throwing your hands up.

“Watch me get this, first try.” He threw every single ring and got 3 out of the 5, which meant he won a prize. He chose the giant teddy bear and a little red bow on it. He hugged it like a little child.

“Lucky! I wanted that one.” You said mad crossing your arms. He was extending the bear out to you, tell you to take it.

“No, it’s okay, I was kidding.” He shoved it in your arms and you held it.

“I got it for you, you think I want this?” You took it with a big smile on your face.

“You’re such a cute couple.” The man working at the game said.

“Oh no, we’re not dating.” You explained.

“Sorry, it just seemed like it. You look good together.” He walked away and assisted the next customer. The day went by faster than you thought. After all the competitions, it was a tie, but both of you still had a blast. It was nearing 11:00 pm, the closing time, and you walked through the gates.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow?” Tae asked.

“Maybe the movies. It will be cheaper.” You suggested. He agreed with it. Once you reached the car, you shoved the giant teddy bear in the back seat and put a seat belt on it. You sat in the driver’s seat and put on yours.

“Is that really necessary?” He looked from the back seat to you.

“Yes, Bubsy needs to be safe during this drive.” You say like a child.

“Bubsy? You already gave it a name?” He questioned.

“Yeah, got a problem?” You said. He shook his head and you drove Tae home. You arrive at his house and he turned to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to wake me up tomorrow like you did today.” He sighed.

“No, I didn’t get sleep last night. So whoever wakes up first will come over and wake the other one up. Deal?” Both of you shook on it.

“Wait, why did you not get-” You interrupt him by pushing out in the car.

“Byeeeeeee.” and you drive off. You arrived home and took Bubsy out of the car. You ran upstairs and placed Bubsy on your bed and took a bath. “Ahh, today was fun. This is going to be a really fun week.”

The next few days with Tae were just as fun as the first. You shared laughs, memories, it was like the old times in high school, before you started dating Mark. Eventually, Saturday came, the last free day that you know you’re going to have with Tae. You decided to stay at your house and order pizza. You had a lot of deep conversations about your futures. Eventually, Mark was brought up.

“So, you haven’t been talking about Mark lately. Anything the matter?” he asked and took another bite of his pizza. “Should I tell him? Maybe I should. It’s been going on for a few months now. He is my best friends.”

“I-um- I actually have something to tell you.” He sat up and put his pizza down. “So lately, Mark has been, frustrated, sexually frustrated. I told him I didn’t want to yet, but he keeps pushing.” His face scrunched up and thinking that that’s complete BS. “And that’s not all. Now, when I tell you this, please don’t freak out.” He nods and crossed his heart. “Well, he would kind of yell at me and hurt me emotionally… and physically.” He got up due to his anger.

“WHAT?!” His face turned red with anger.

“But that’s only when he’s drunk!” Taehyung paced back and forth.

“You have to break up with him!” You get up and face him.

“What?! No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s because- you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

“But knowing that you, someone I love, is getting hurt by a douchebag like him, of course I’ll freak out!” Tae was getting really angry you didn’t know what to do.

“I know you love me Tae but reall-” he stopped you by grabbing the side of your arms.

“No you don’t. I don’t love you the way you love me. You love me as a friend, I love you more than that. Ever since I saw you, I thought you were so pretty. You made my heart beat faster than anyone! Even just by looking at you, you make me crazy, and I can’t take it! I tried to get over you, but the past few days made me love you even more.” You were surprised at what he just said. You never thought that he felt that way.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen Tae, I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you do that to me then? Why did you become friends with me?”

“I’m sorry!” You yell. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You never had a fight with Tae before.

“Forget it, what right do I have to tell you what to do.” He grabbed his jacket and walked towards the door.

“Kiss me!” You yell out to him.

“What?” He turns around.

“I said kiss me. Please, kiss me. I want you!” You say walking towards him. He drops his jacket and pushes you to the wall. He places his lips on yours gently and then deepened the kiss. You flung your arms around him and a tear rolled down your cheek. He snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You melted in his arms. You jumped up and put your legs around his waist. He walked up the stairs and placed you with care on the bed. He was on top of you and you played with his hair. “What am I doing? I’m making out with my best friend, but it feels so right.” You started to take control and pushed him onto the bed without breaking the kiss. You started to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed you away. You got off of him and he stood up from the bed.

“You should sleep now, I’ll clean up downstairs.” He walked out, cleaned up the empty box of pizza. He put on his jacket and shoes, and closed the door behind him. The whole time you were sitting in bed, contemplating on what just happened. You made out with your best friend, he took you to bed and you didn’t think twice about the possibility of you having sex with him. With Mark, if you even got close to what you and Tae were doing right now, you would push him off. When Tae did it, you didn’t mind. “Do I still love Mark? Or am I with him just as a habit?” You laid in bed cuddling Bubsy, replaying the moments of today. “But knowing that you, someone I love, is getting hurt…” “You love me as a friend, I love you more than that.” “Kiss me.” You hugged Bubsy tighter getting a whiff of his cologne.

You woke up the next morning to the door opening.

“I’m home baby.” You hear a familiar voice yell. You run to the bathroom to clean yourself up from the aftermath of you crying all night. Luckily, you wore your pajamas, which was just technically short shorts and a white tee, when Tae came over. You walk out of the bathroom and ran downstairs and jumped into Mark’s arms.

“Hi baby!” You kissed him.

“Ahh, I miss your smile.” he kissed you again and put you down.

“I’ll make you breakfast babe.”

“Now that will be great.” he smiles and kisses you again, but on the forehead. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV. You took out the eggs and bacon. You started to cook the rice first and made a cup of coffee for Mark.

“Thanks hun.” He sipped and went back to watching TV. You continued to cook and finished making everything.

“I’m done, let’s eat.” You set the plates on the table. He looked over your shoulder and looked at the food.

“Ouu yum, I can’t wait. Let me use the bathroom first.” He went upstairs and you go back to the kitchen to clean. After a few minutes, you heard him walk down the stairs. You turn around and see him mad stomping towards you. He slapped you across the cheek and clenched his teeth.

“You were fooling around with someone here weren’t you? I can smell his cologne in the house, in the bedroom, on that teddy bear, and… on you.” He said silently, but deadly. He placed his hand around your neck. “No no no, not again!” Then you heard the house door slam open. It was Tae.

“Get your hands off of her!” Tae yelled. He was carrying something in his hand, but was hiding it.

“Tae? What are you doing he-” Tae grabbed him by the collar and shoved something in his stomach. You looked down and saw it was a broken glass bottle. He stabbed him many times. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak. You’re watching someone you love, or you think you love, get murdered in front of you by someone else that you might have feelings for. You got the courage to move and run to Tae.

“Tae stop!” Mark fell once Tae let go of him. His hand was covered in his blood. He immediately had a face of instant regret. Tae ran out the door with the glass bottle still in his clutch and drove off before you could say anything. You called 911 to try to get Mark to the hospital. When the ambulance came, he was announced dead. They took his body away and you had to leave. You drove to Tae’s house and entered, it was unlocked. You walked to his bedroom and saw him in the corner.

“Tae, are you okay?” You walked towards him.

“No, I’m a monster.” He cries and shoves his face in between his knees.

“No you’re not!” You said putting your hand on his shoulder. He shook it off.

“Yes I am. Look!” He showed his hands that had blood on them. “This is how a monster looks like. I killed Mark, one of my best friends.” You heard two people calling for Tae’s name. They ran up the stairs and saw him. It was his brother and sister.

“Tae, are you okay? Once I got your text I drove here with your brother.” She said drying his eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay? Sis, he just murdered someone.” her brother pointed out.

“Thank you captain obvious, but right now we need him to calm down, we need him to talk. (Y/n) can you get me a wet towel please?” You got up and got a hand towel from the cabinet and wet it. You also got a glass of water to bring to him. You head back to Tae and his sister. You wipe Tae’s hand to get the blood off. Her sister gave him the water and he stopped crying.

“Okay, now that he’s better, I think we need to discuss on what to do. I think Tae needs to turn himself in. It’ll get worse if we keep him in hiding.” Tae’s sister turns towards him looking at him like he’s crazy.

“I AM NOT PUTTING MY BROTHER IN JAIL!” She yells. “There has to be another way to fix this! What kind of a brother are you?” She looked at him with a disgusted look.

“Why am I the bad one? Are you calling me a sinner? Compared to what he did, I did nothing.” Tae’s sister started to cry knowing that there’s no other way. Tae brought his hand to her face and wiped the falling tear. He looked at her, then her brother. He got up and hugged you.

“I’ll do it, I’ll say I did it.” You pushed him off.

“No! I’m not letting you go to jail! Tae please! I finally realize what I’ve been missing, and that’s you! Please, I don’t want you to go.” Tae puts his hands on your face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” He kissed you on the forehead and then walked out that door. You tried to run after him, but his sister kept you back. It was like he disappeared into the darkness. It felt like you would never see him again.

4 years later

You heard unlocking of the door. Once it opened, you jumped up from the couch and ran to Tae. He closed the door and held you in a tight embrace.

“Good to see you too (y/n)-” you smash your lips onto his. He was surprised at first, but then kissed you back.

You look up into his eyes, “I had to wait 4 years for that, you know how much pain I was in waiting for you?” You chuckle. You were crying tears of joy from the sight of him.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we can start this whole thing over? This whole friendship?” He asked. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” You giggle and kiss him again.

“I guess so.” He kisses you back and walked you up the stairs.

#taehyung #tae #kim taehyung #bts #bts fanfic #fanfic #Kim taehyung fanfic #v fanfinc #taehyung fanfic

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