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ironwoman359 · 4 years

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True Loves’ Kiss

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Bedside Vigil

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: DLAMP

Summary: Virgil has fallen under an enchanted sleep, but his boyfriends are determined to keep him company and find a way to wake him up.

Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, kissing, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Word Count: 1,941

Read on AO3 here

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—

“Patton?”

“Hnng...hmm?”

“Patton, you should get some sleep.”

“Mmm...m’not sleepy, Lo, really, I can stay–”

“You’re dozing off already, Pat. Take a break and let one of us look after him for a little while.”

“Okay...any luck with the countercurse?”

“No...Janus and Roman are going over the books from the imagination library to see if there’s anything I missed, but…”

“Hey, hey, Lo. We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re the smartest person I know; I know that you can do this. We’ll figure out how to save him.”

“You...you are right. Of course you are right. Go to bed now, starlight, you need your rest.”

“Okay. Logan’s gonna look after you for a bit now, okay Virgil?”

Virgil didn’t answer.

He wanted to answer. He wanted to squeeze Patton’s hand and tell him to get some sleep and promise him that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t. He wanted to smile at Logan and thank him for trying his hardest and promise him that he was enough, but he couldn’t. He could only lie here, eyes closed and body frozen but still completely, painfully aware, trapped in an enchanted sleep with no way to let the others know that he could even still hear them.

A soft hand brushed his bangs to the side and a pair of lips pressed gently to his forehead, murmuring a soft “Love you, kiddo.”

I love you too, Virgil wanted to say back, but his body remained stubbornly unresponsive.

Virgil imagined that Patton gave Logan one more small, shaky smile before turning and leaving the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft *click.* He imagined that Patton went back to their shared bedroom and gently pried Janus and Roman away from their desks and into bed. He imagined that none of them would be able to sleep easily, not with him and Logan gone, but that they would try anyway, huddling together in a tight ball in the middle of the bed.

He imagined, because it was all he could do anymore.

The room was silent for a moment without Patton’s gentle, nonsensical ramblings to fill the space between them, but then there was a rush of breath as Logan let out a deep sigh, and a hand threaded through Virgil’s fingers. Logan’s hand was cooler than Patton’s, but not quite cold, rather a firm, grounding presence, and Virgil wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand back.

“I find myself wishing for your company even more so than I usually do, now that I am deprived of it,” Logan said quietly. “I love the others just as dearly, of course, but...we are incomplete without you with us.”

I miss you too.

Logan’s hand withdrew then, and Virgil heard a bit of rustling before Logan spoke again.

“I brought the next Hercule Poirot book we were going to read together,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically thick. “I...did not feel right, starting it without you. I suppose you cannot even hear me, but...I would like to read it to you, if you’d permit me.”

Logan waited a moment, as if to give Virgil the chance to reply, and Virgil didn’t know if he’d ever wanted to kiss Logan more than in that moment, but he remained as still as a statue.

“Very well, then,” Logan said quietly. “I shall begin.” He cleared his throat, and there was a quick rustle of pages before Logan began to read.

“It was close on midnight when a man crossed the Place de la Concorde…”

Virgil let Logan’s voice wash over him and transport him to the streets of Paris, where a shady deal was about to take place. Logan’s voice was one of his favorite sounds...it was rich and even and grounding, and Virgil could listen to him talk for hours.

Which is just what he did, though the passage of time was hard to measure when he couldn’t see or move or speak. Eventually Logan’s voice trailed off and was replaced with soft, gentle wheezing and the occasional snore that signified that he’d fallen asleep. Laying there listening to him breathe, it was almost as though Virgil was simply lying in bed alongside the others, not a care or worry in the world.

Virgil pretended that’s what he was doing until a gentle knocking at the door roused him from his mental stupor. The door creaked open, and a soft, familiar chuckle filled the room as footsteps made their way towards where Virgil lay.

“Ah, getting the ‘high quality sleep’ that you so often impose upon the rest of us, I see.”

“Nnngh...what?”

“You should have gotten one of us if you were going to fall asleep,” Janus chided gently. “You’re going to be sore for sure now.”

“I assure you, sleep was not my intention,” Logan responded with a yawn.

“Mmhm.”

Janus didn’t sound convinced, and Virgil could imagine the eyebrow on the snake half of his face quirking upwards, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Do not give me that look,” Logan protested, and Janus laughed.

“Go take a shower and have a cup of coffee, Love, before Patton finds out that you slept in here yourself after telling him to go to the bedroom.”

There was a pause, then Janus spoke again, his voice softer.

“I’ll look after him, Logan, don’t worry.”

“...very well.”

Slightly chapped lips pressed against Virgil’s cheek and a cool hand squeezed his tightly before Logan was gone, and Virgil was left alone with Janus.

Unlike Patton’s constant chatter about anything and everything or Logan’s reading aloud, Janus was quiet as he sat by Virgil’s side. He’d never been one for idle chit chat, and Virgil didn’t expect him to start now.

No, Janus didn’t speak, but he took Virgil’s hand in his, gripping perhaps a little more tightly than he needed to, and that tiny action spoke volumes more than words ever could.

How long the two sat in silence, Virgil didn’t know, but Janus’s grip didn’t falter once, and when Roman came and told him Logan needed his help investigating yet another possible lead, he pressed a kiss to Virgil’s knuckles and whispered, “Stay with us, alright, my shadowling?”

Then it was silent again, but only for a moment, because it was Roman at his bedside now, and the day that Roman would sit silently beside him would be the day Virgil burned all of his MCR merch.

“Still slumbering away, Sleeping Beauty?” Roman asked, and Virgil could practically hear the sad smile that accompanied his words.

Fingers brushed through his hair, then trailed down the side of his face to cup his cheek, and Roman let out a sigh.

“We’re still looking for how to wake you,” he said. “Logan has a new lead he wants to explore. So hopefully this won’t be an actual, original sleeping beauty situation and we’ll have you up before a hundred years have passed.”

He was trying to be lighthearted, but even without seeing his face, Virgil could hear how the optimism fell flat. Roman traced Virgil’s cheekbone with his thumb and sighed again, long and deep and sad.

“We miss you, Stormcloud,” he murmured. “I miss you. I miss watching you and Logan debate conspiracies and hearing you laugh at Patton’s puns and seeing you and Janus curled up asleep on the couch. I miss–” he paused, and when he continued his voice was choked, as if he’d swallowed down a sob. “I miss your stupid emo music and I miss arguing with you about Disney movies at two in the morning and I miss curling up in bed with you in my arms, I–”

Something wet splashed onto Virgil’s face, and Roman took a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, Stormcloud,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to bring the room down with my silly dramatics. We’ll find some way to wake you up, I swear it.”

Then he leaned in close and kissed the teardrop off Virgil’s face.

Virgil gasped as his eyes flew open, and Roman jerked backwards with a yelp of surprise.

“Virgil! I– what? Guys, he’s awake!”

Virgil heard shouts of surprise and delight followed by rushing footsteps, but all of that faded into the background as Roman pulled him up into a bone-crushing hug. Virgil felt tears of his own pooling in his eyes as he squeezed back with all his strength, and by the time Roman leaned back to look at him a few had already slipped down his cheeks.

“Virgil, I...you…”

Virgil interrupted him by slamming their lips together, and Roman melted into the kiss immediately.

“Virgil!”

Virgil and Roman broke apart at Patton’s shriek of delight, and Roman barely moved out of the way in time before Patton flew into Virgil’s arms and started peppering his face with kisses. He ended with one to Virgil’s lips, slower and softer than the others, and Virgil smiled at him when they broke apart, unashamed of the fresh tears in his eyes.

“Hey, Pat.”

“Virgil, oh my god, I was so worried about you, I was afraid you wouldn’t–”

“I know,” Virgil interrupted, pressing another quick kiss to Patton’s lips. “But I’m okay now, I promise.”

Logan didn’t waste any time with words, he just pulled Virgil into a kiss so searing that Virgil saw stars.

“Don’t scare us like that again,” he whispered in a strangled voice, pressing his forehead to Virgil’s, and Virgil squeezed his hand.

“I won’t, L. I’m sorry.”

“And don’t you dare apologize,” Logan added as he leaned back, and Patton nodded emphatically.

“No talking bad about yourself!” he insisted, but Virigl wasn’t paying attention to either of them just then.

Janus stood at the edge of the room, his face a shade paler than normal. Virgil locked eyes with him, and for a moment nobody moved. Then, Virgil reached towards him, and Janus was across the room faster than Virgil could blink.

Janus pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of Virgil’s head like he was the most precious thing in the world, and Virgil could feel his shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Jan,” he murmured. “I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“Don’t you leave us,” Janus whispered. “Don’t you ever, ever leave us, Virgil, I–”

“Never,” Virgil interrupted, leaning back and laying his hand on Janus’s cheek. “Never again, Janus, I promise.”

Their lips met, just briefly, then Janus pulled back with a frown.

“I don’t understand though...how did you wake up? Roman, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Roman insisted, and Virgil blinked.

“I love you guys, but you’re all total morons.”

“Huh?” Patton asked.

“I must admit, I am lost as well,” Logan said.

“How do you break a curse?” Virgil asked, looking at each of them in turn. When he got no answer, he rolled his eyes. “You even said it yourself, Princey. Sleeping Beauty?”

“True Love’s kiss,” Roman whispered. “But I didn’t–”

“Here,” Virgil interrupted, touching the place where Roman’s tear had fallen. “Here,” he added, holding up his hand to Janus, whose eyes grew wide with understanding. “Here, and here,” Virgil finished, tapping his cheek and his forehead, smiling over at Logan and Patton. “The four of you...you saved me.”

“Oh, Virgi!” Patton’s eyes filled with tears, and he rushed forward

Virgil and Janus caught him easily, pulling him into their embrace. Logan and Roman followed, and the five of them ended up in a pile on the floor, squeezing each other’s hands and taking turns pressing kisses to Virgil’s face. And if he shed a few more tears as he held his loves...his true loves closer? Nobody minded in the slightest.

—

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #badthingshappenbingo #DLAMP #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #my writing

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inosukki · 4 years

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jealous, various characters.

synopsis: how your boyfriend would react to his teammates seeing you in a bikini!

includes: bokuto koutarou, kuroo tetsurou, and semi eita.

bokuto koutarou

two words: emo mode😃

when bokuto invited you to the beach with his teammates, you were hesitant to accept

the only person you knew somewhat personally was akaashi, since you three would hangout all the time

plus, you were basically the polar opposite of bokuto, which meant that you didn’t immediately warm up to people

but he practically begged you to go and how could you say no to that cute face🥺

currently, you were sprawled out on the towel you brought for yourself and bokuto, clad in jean shorts and a t-shirt

you were sweating buckets so you decided to undress, you had a bikini underneath your clothes anyways

and the guys were playing beach volleyball, so it’s not like anyone was gonna notice... right?

well after you’d taken off your top and began to pull your shorts down your thighs, you could hear the entire team making their way over to you (as you all had set up your belongings in the same area)

quickly, you slipped off your shorts and sat criss cross on the towel

“[Y/NNNNN]!” a loud, whining voice called out

without giving you anytime to process, bokuto threw himself on top of you, causing you to fall over

“i’m thirstyyyy” he cried, pressing his face into your neck

your eyes widened at the display of affection, gently pushing him away

“idiot... you’re lucky i brought you a drink.” you teased, handing him the bottle of pocari sweat from your purse

“AHHAHHAHA LOOK!!! MY GIRLFRIEND BROUGHT ME A DRINK! YOU GUYS DON’T HAVE GIRLFRIENDS THAT BRING YOU DRINKS!”

just smile politely y’all. we’re witnessing mental illness❤️

you looked at him like🤨🤨 wondering wtf possessed him to even say that

as he sipped happily on the sports drink, hand snakes around your waist and ranting to akaashi about something you couldn’t quite catch, you observed the rest of his team sitting on their towels and gulping down their own drinks

“aaah, i forgot to bring my water and i don’t have any money...” your ears perked up at the sound of the person’s voice

you scanned the area, eyes falling upon wataru, who was empty handed. you felt bad

should i give him a drink?, you thought, mulling the idea over

it was hot and he had just played beach volleyball (which was much more tiring than regular volleyball) in the scorching sun...

it was as if your feet were moving on their own as you grabbed the bottled drink and moved away from bokuto’s grasp, not stopping until you reached your kouhai

“wataru-kun?” you mumbled quietly

his eyes trailed your exposed skin until reaching yours

you didn’t notice how the tips of his ears began to blush, or how his entire face was red

probably because yours was too... not because of him, but because that’s what happened when you talked to anyone who wasn’t in your immediate circle

you also didn’t notice how he was no longer looking into your eyes, but an area just below them

“eh... i heard you say that you forgot to bring a drink and i had an extra so... here you go!”

you extended your arm, waiting for him to accept it

you waited... and waited... and waited...

“wataru-kun?” you questioned, lowering your hand. god, did you just embarrass yourself?

it wasn’t until another first year (anahori, was it?) slapped the back of his head that he responded

“ah-thank you, [l/n]-senpai!” he blurted, grabbing the drink from your hand

you smiled, happily walking back to your seat

wait, where was bokuto?

you scanned the area to find bokuto a few feet away from his original spot, curled into himself and staring at the ocean

oh god, he was in his emo mode

“eh... akaashi? what happened to bokuto?” you whispered as to not alarm your boyfriend who could probably still here you

“wataru was staring at your chest and he got upset.” he replied in a monotonous tone

“AKAASHI!” you screeched, punching him in the shoulder. “why do you say things so bluntly? i’m going to go see if he’s ok.”

still embarrassed, you unconsciously crossed your arms

as you approached bokuto, you could practically feel the gloomy aura surrounding his form

“bokuto? are you alright?”

“i am a failure.”

HUH😀

“what? what do you mean?”

he turned to look at you, incredibly small and fully white eyes staring into your own

“another man was looking at my girlfriend inappropriately and i did nothing to stop it... i am a failure... you should breakup with me now.”

AHDJSJFKF WHAT KIND OF LOGIC???

“man...? wataru-kun is a first year, bokuto. he’s 15. a child. and i’m sure he didn’t mean to offend me, i didn’t even notice. if he had given me any trouble i could have handled it myself.”

your words fell on deaf ears as bokuto day in silence, resembling the 😞 emoji

you reached your hands to cup his face, but he turned around dramatically

“don’t look at me, this is the face of a loser!”

ok now you were a little annoyed

you forcefully grabbed his face and turned it towards your own with such ferocity that bokuto thought he’d gotten whiplash

“BOKUTO, you’re my boyfriend. my handsome, talented, amazing, boyfriend. you’re one of the top five aces in the country. wataru-kun doesn’t even compare to someone like you. he’s just a boy, go out there and show him what a man is! how scary and powerful his captain is!”

in a flash, the dark and gloomy aura dissapeared and was replaced by bokuto’s usually energetic and friendly air

“HEY HEY HEY, YOU’RE RIGHT. I AM THE BEST! I’M GONNA GO KICK HIS ASS IN YOUR HONOR!”

“bokuto that’s not what i meant—no!—BOKUTO!”

kuroo tetsurou

idk how to write for him lol😹👍

but i’ll try

so background😼 you’re like the unofficial manager of nekoma

you bring everyone protein bars and sports drinks and stay after practice to help pick up stray balls and do other ~managery~ stuff

EVERYONE LOVES YOU

lev calls you mom (he’s secretly your favorite)

yaku listens to you when you tell him to go easy on lev

taketora worships the ground you walk on (simp🙄🙄)

you call kenma your son but he glares at you when you do😹 (😿) big sad

(idk the other characters LOL)

everyone practically begs kuroo to invite you (which he was going to do anyway bc mf loves you duh)

so when he does your just like... um ofc u utter fool

lev had already told you about it when you were helping him practice his spikes so if kuroo didn’t invite you you would have shown up unannounced

but ngl you were lowkey feeling used bc after you accepted he told you that he’d gonna need the keys to your parents’ van bc it was the only car that could fit all of you in it

whatever you’re just happy to be there😋

you sat up in the front while kuroo drove, drumming your fingers against his thigh

“hey kuroo are we there yet”

“[y/n]... just look up what’s the point of asking”

when you guys arrived you and lev ZOOMED towards the beach to see who could make it there first

he won sadly :/

everyone else joined you so you guys began setting up

they were laying their towels on the sand, dropping their bags, and taking off their shirts

kenma kept his shirt on and was just on his switch the entire time

well everyone else was changing so you should too right🤩

you took off you swimsuit cover up and tossed it aside

and just when you did you heard the sound of squelching and a weight fall onto the floor

“TORA?? TORA ARE YOU OK”

tora’s nose was bleeding and he was twitching on the floor

AND NO ONE WAS ACKNOWLEDGING IT... LIKE IS HE OK

when you bent down to check on him his eyes widened, refusing to make eye contact

they were making contact with something else❤️

but he immediately corrected himself and closed his eyes

he might be a simp but he’s not a perv

you looked towards kuroo who was a few feet behind you expecting him to be mad or protective or whatever

but mf was laughing

LAUGHING

“oh god, that’s so pathetic! imagine fainting at the sight of boobs” he was dry heaving, hands on his knees as he doubled over

he didn’t give af🖕🖕 f u kuroo

semi eita

ion know how to write for this mf either

with semi, he hadn’t thought of inviting you to the beach with his teammates

he’d assumed it was team bonding/extra practice after their loss at the hands of karasuno

when in reality it was actually just a day off to have fun and forget about volleyball even if it was just for a few hours

tendou, your best friend, was the one to invite you

“come on, [y/n]! it’ll be fun! you don’t even have to go in the ocean if you don’t want to.”

you rolled your eyes, scoffing at the suggestion

“of course i’m going in the ocean, idiot. i’m not just going to watch you all have fun.”

his mischievous red eyes lit up

“perfect! i’ll pick you up from your dorm on saturday at two. make sure your ready.”

and that was that

tendou had picked you up as promised and the two of you made your way to the beach together

the sun was relentlessly beating down on you two, so by the time you had reached your destination, you were already sweating

“ugh,” you whined in displeasure. “my skin’s already starting to feel hot. i’m just going to change here, ‘kay?”

“good idea” he responded, taking off his shirt

you stripped down to your bikini and stuffed your clothes in your bag, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

a low whistle sounded from tendou

“wow, [y/n]! look at you, semi is going to just eat you up!”

you scoffed, punching him in the stomach. even though you knew he didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, you hated when he teased you. he knew just how to push you buttons.

“i will literally kill you. now lets go meet up with the others, creep.”

he chuckled, but followed you nonetheless.

you smiled as you saw the entire shiratorizawa volleyball team sat in a circle, enjoying a picnic

“hey, you guys started eating without us?” tendou cried, rushing past you to seat himself next to ushijima

“well you’re late, you deserve it.” yamagata uttered, not taking his eyes off of his food

you walked past the team, responding to their greetings with a smile and wave before stopping behind semi, lowering yourself to wrap your arms around him

“hello, eita!” you grinned, pressing a light kiss to his temple

he immediately stiffened against the abrupt touch, softening when he recognized that it was you

“[y/n]? what are you doing here?” he was thoroughly confused, turning his whole body to you

“tendou invited me! why do you not want me here?” you pouted, placing your hands on your thighs

at the suggestion he was immediately reduced to a stuttering mess. his usually stoic attitude was replaced by nervousness and defensiveness

“o-of course not! i just assumed only the team was coming. i’m glad you’re here, promise.”

his seriousness always made you laugh, maybe that’s why you loved teasing him

“i’m just fucking with you, eita.”

his automatic response was: “oh, well then eat shit.”

LMFAOOOO there’s the guy you know and love

you were about to slide in between eita and shirabu when you felt a pair of wandering eyes to your right

shirabu was... checking you out??? HUH

he didn’t even notice you were looking at him because he was looking straight at your thighs

MF EVEN LEANED BACKWARDS TO LOOK AT YOUR BUTT

you weren’t even offended because this was the funniest shit you had witnessed in your life

the kid that your boyfriend hated with his entire being was literally checking you out in front of him

before you could form a sentence that would surely embarrass the setter, you heard your boyfriend screaming and lunging at shirabu

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU DISRESPECTFUL LITTLE SHIT? I’LL KILL YOU!”

“HUH? g-get off me! what are you doing?”

what da fawk😃

you immediately grabbed eita by his arm and pulled him away from the lowerclassmen, a shocked expression adorning your face

he was practically fuming, if you were in a cartoon, steam would’ve been blowing out of his ears by now. his eyes ripped themselves from shirabu’s cowering form and were now focused on you

“you were just letting him look at you! i saw you!”

NOT HIM TRYING TO BLAME THIS ON YOU

“well i was gonna tell him off before you acted like a fucking psycho... which was funny as fuck by the way.”

“it was not funny” he growled, folding his arms over his chest.

“it was too! as much as i enjoyed that, please never do it again. i can take care of myself, okay?”

he rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless, earning a chaste kiss on the cheek

you thought that was the end of it but he stood up, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you away from his team

“we’re going somewhere private. now.”

time for the vaccum seal two handed twist gawk gawk wombo combo🥵🥵

[a/n]: this was requested and i wasn’t sure if you meant that you wanted random beachgoers to be staring at the reader so i just made a teammates do it hehe <3 WHY DID I MAKE THEM TOXIC AND WHY IS MY WRITING STYLE ALL OVER THE PLACE LMFAOO😹👍

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro imagines #kuroo tetsuro x reader #semi eita imagine #semi eita imagines #semi eita x reader #bokuto koutarou imagine #bokuto koutarou imagines #bokuto koutarou x reader

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averykedavra · 4 years

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Love Runs Its Course

Is it clear yet that I’m just using this as an excuse to write sappy, indulgent human AUs with queerplatonic relationships? Because if not, I need to try harder. Anyway, commence coffee shop AU.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Call My Name by the Unlikely Candidates! You can find this story on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: Everyone has a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing: Pre-relationship Anxceit.

Words: 9501

Warnings: death and murder mentions but nothing actually occurs, anxiety, minor panic attack, cursing, self-deprecation, scars, mention of a car accident

If there was one thing Virgil hated about people—which there wasn’t, he hated a ton of things about people, from their annoying voices, to their questions about what he was going to do with his life, to the way they always stepped a little too close to him, to the fact that they generally existed and that put a cramp in Virgil’s style, but if he had to pick one thing—it’d be that they always asked about his soulmate.

He kept his timer covered. Countdowns freaked him out, and he’d rather not be staring at his wrist all day. He had a general idea of when he was going to meet his soulmate—probably in the next year or so, or maybe he should have met them by now, or maybe something had gone wrong and he’d never meet them ever and that was why he didn’t look at the goddamn timer. He tried not to think about soulmates in general. It was easy enough. He just focused on panicking over the things he could control, like his college courses and remembering his coffee order and not destroying every friendship in his life.

Soulmates were an enigma, an unknown, and Virgil did not do well with unknowns. They promised a person—or persons—who would understand you, complete you, show you a path you’d never even considered.

That was a terrifying concept. Virgil did not like to be known, for starters. He’d perfected the angry-emo look over the years, complete with shredded jeans and liberally-applied eyeshadow, so he would be the exact opposite. Intimidating. Off-putting. People looked once and looked away, and that was just what Virgil wanted.

He didn’t need a soulmate coming in and prying him open.

He was doing just fine on his own.

Except everyone kept asking. They’d glance down at his wrist, covered by his favorite purple hoodie, and ask if he’d met his soulmate yet. If they were dating. If they planned to get married. Apparently, by the age of twenty-one Virgil was supposed to have met his soulmate, even though he hated going outside and the world had literally billions of people in it. And planning to get married? Virgil wasn’t out of college.

Fuck people.

Sometimes, Virgil would just growl a noncommittal noise and ignore the question. If he was in a talkative mood, he’d say “Haven’t met them.”

Some people took that as a cue to change the subject. But others immediately started reassuring Virgil that he’d find them soon, that the universe would bring them together, and how long did he have left anyway? And Virgil was stuck in the conversation until he could find a polite way to leave, or his friends could bail him out.

They didn’t seem to get that he didn’t want reassurance. That being without his soulmate wasn’t a terrible isolation. He had friends—shocking but true, and something Virgil was still getting used to—and he had a life. He wasn’t going to drop everything to chase some mystical match. He had exams coming up. And soulmates were bullshit, anyway.

Roman would probably take offense to that. But they were. Virgil wasn’t about to trust fucking fate to pick out his missing piece or whatever. God might not play dice with the universe, but it was still a pretty weird matching game—or it was like when the whole class got gift bags and they tossed different gifts randomly into each one. Some people got toy trains or glitter pens. Virgil got a small wooden duck.

Yeah, that was what soulmates were like. Surprise gift bags filled with good toys and bad toys, and some people lucked out and some people didn’t, and some people’s gift bags got lost in the mail, and it was really fucking stupid to have gift bags anyway because who even asked? They’d just been handed them, sparkly and crinkly and leaking confetti, and been told “Here, you get this, take care of it.” No opt-out program. No “thanks, but no thanks” option. Just a heavy gift-bag filled with stuff nobody wanted, being told that they were special for having it.

And of course there were timers.

Because it wasn’t horror-movie enough to have a person specifically assigned to your soul. There were timers, and the numbers counted down, thick and black and rolling through the years, then the months, then the days and minutes. It was like being branded. Virgil had tried to scrub his off in ninth grade, just to see if he could, and the skin around it was left raw but the numbers never disappeared.

Virgil hated numbers. He’d never liked math, and numbers usually came in statistics about death or statistics about poverty or algebra he didn’t understand. And timers. Numbers came in timers and counted down to the moment where Virgil would be stuck with someone for the rest of his miserable existence.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

Yay, soulmates.

Virgil guessed he should count himself lucky that he hadn’t met his yet. It wasn’t all luck, though—like he said, he barely left the house. But his soulmate wasn’t in his college, either. He’d been worried about that. Or maybe his soulmate was just as antisocial as he was. Maybe that’d be alright. They could avoid each other for the rest of their lives.

He covered up his timer, tried not to think about soulmates, and let the anxiety hum in his chest as a constant low-grade buzz. He’d made it this far. Everything was fine right now, no matter what his wrist said, itching under his hoodie and a black smudge in the mirror.

Everything was fine and Virgil was going to graduate college and become a graphic designer and live with several pet spiders and die at a ripe old age from colon cancer. Soulmate-less and perfectly happy.

Well, as happy as he could ever get, which wasn’t very.

People said that was because he didn’t have his soulmate yet. As if diagnosed anxiety and low self-esteem would be magically fixed by some asshole walking into his life and smiling at him. And they wondered why Virgil hated soulmates.

So yeah. Maybe Virgil wasn’t happy happy. But he was alright, and he was alive, and he had friends and a life and some kind of future. He’d stayed on his feet, which was more than he or his therapist really expected, and he had a job, too—at a coffee shop, but a job. It didn’t pay well and each shift was a nightmare and Remy the manager wasn’t the hugest asshole but was still a little bitch, and Virgil hated it utterly. But it was a job. And fucking student loans weren’t going to magically vanish if he just ignored them. Much as he wished that was possible.

He wished the universe spent less magic on soulmates and more magic on paying off student debt. Now that would be useful.

“Student debt,” he’d recite to himself after the third customer called him a name.

“Student debt,” he’d mutter as he mopped up a spilled caramel machiatto.

“Student debt,” he’d remind himself when Remy popped out to talk with his soulmate, which left Virgil with extra shifts he couldn’t say no to, because student debt and also crippling social anxiety.

“Student debt,” he’d groan into his pillow as he collapsed in his bed, surrounded by textbooks he didn’t know well enough to avoid studying the next morning, wondering whether he should just quit school and become a mime. At least it didn’t involve talking to people. Or studying. Or spilled caramel machiattos.

On nights like that, he wondered if he’d even manage to get up the next morning.

But he always did.

Here, queer, and full of fear. Alone, on his own, and fine with never being known.

And working at a coffee shop at three in the afternoon, trying to memorize his science notes in-between orders, the day cloudy and soupy and making Virgil’s purple hair frizz up under his hoodie. His nametag had broken mid-morning, forcing him to duct-tape it in place. And he’d ran out for some groceries during his lunch break, and the groceries had fallen out and now he had to buy new ones in the time he didn’t have, and he hadn’t actually had lunch and was running on three shots of espresso that made him even more jittery than usual, and in general Virgil was about three seconds from curling into a ball on the counter and waiting for the world to stop existing.

That was when he walked in.

Afterwards, Virgil figured he probably should have had some huge moment of shock. A love-at-first-sight thing. Or at least, he should have noticed the guy before he was at the front of the line.

But he didn’t, and even when the dude was right in front of him, he’d just nodded and asked “What can I get for you?” in his best I’m-a-helpful-employee-and-three-seconds-from-killing-everything voice. Vaguely, he noted that the guy had a black beanie and dyed blond tips and a bored smirk like he was also three seconds from killing everything but in less denial about it.

Guy rattled off his order, Virgil nodded and tossed it over to Remy, told the guy to have a seat, the dude nodded and adjusted his beanie, shaking out his wrists--

And froze.

The next person in line bumped into him. He just stood there, staring at his hands, then back up at Virgil.

“Um, you can sit down,” Virgil said awkwardly. He’d been joking about the killing everything--ugh, if this was gonna be a scene, Remy would kill him. And he really wasn’t in the mood to shepherd some customer out the door.

The guy kept staring at Virgil. Virgil decided to stare right back with his patented don’t-fuck-with-me glare. That didn’t send him packing. Guy just kept on staring, and Virgil looked back at dark brown eyes and an old scar on a tan cheek, and blond curls and a flannel shirt and a mouth dropped open.

“Dude,” Virgil said, trying to crack a joke to deflect from his growing discomfort, “stop staring. I get that I’m awesome, but we do have other customers.”

Other customers who were starting to whisper. Remy was shooting Virgil a glare over the coffee machine. Shit. Some asshole was definitely making a scene on Virgil’s shift, and fucking dammit, of course he was.

“Hello?” Virgil waved a hand. “Dude, hello? Why are you just standing there like a deer in headlights?”

He hated himself the minute he said those words. Now the asshole was gonna snap and kill him or something.

“You--” Asshole pointed at him. He seemed to lose his words as soon as they came, just pointing a few more times. Then he turned his wrist over.

A black zero. It shone in neat ink on the skin.

“Um, good for you?” Virgil said hesitantly. “Sure your soulmate is very lucky. I don’t get what--”

Then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Fuck. Fuck, piss, shit, goddammit, why.

Almost automatically, Virgil pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie.

A zero.

Virgil opened his eyes and closed them again, shook his wrist like it was a flashlight with an iffy battery, turned his wrist over and back again, rubbed at the skin. The number refused to change.

He’d met his soulmate.

Virgil looked up slowly. Asshole was still standing there, looking both patient and somewhat terrified all at once, with his stupid beanie and stupid flannel and stupid, stupid timer.

Fuck.

This.

Shit.

“We’re soulmates?” Asshole asked, as if it wasn’t abundently clear.

Virgil opened his mouth to snark “Yeah, apparently, and fuck this” or say “Maybe, who knows?” or ask the dude if he was ever going to sit down and let Virgil do his goddamn job.

He swallowed and closed it again.

His hands started to shake.

“We’re soulmates,” Asshole said, sounding not entirely pleased but not completely disappointed. It was like a package he’d long expected had finally delivered, but the edges were scuffed up and a few pieces were missing. Which was pretty fucking accurate. Poor guy--he might be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Virgil.

Or maybe he did. Virgil knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

Just that they were soulmates.

A gift in a gift bag, shoved into his hands in the middle of his shift, dropped on his doorstep with no return policy.

Here. You’re meant to get this. Keep it.

Virgil tried to take a deep breath and found his chest was too tight to allow it.

Shit, fuck, shit.

“Hey,” said Asshole Soulmate, stepping forward. “Are you...you look like you’re definitely taking this well.”

Oh, really? Virgil would have snapped if he wasn’t busy hyperventilating. Can’t imagine why my soulmate showing up out of the blue and ruining my shift wouldn’t be fucking ideal!

“I--” he stammered out instead. He looked wildly for an exit. He couldn’t be here anymore. Asshole was going to start asking questions, and he didn’t have answers or explanations, couldn’t piece together anything that explained how terrified he felt--

Breathing exercises. He used to know them. They’d all gone from his head. Fuck, shit, fuck. The whole place was too small. Too loud. The air was too hot and too still and brown eyes watched him, too concerned, too close--

“I have to go,” Virgil burst out.

And he pushed his way out from behind the counter, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out of the shop.

The door slammed shut behind him.

The last thing he saw was the face of his soulmate, staring after him, looking like he was three seconds from swearing as much as Virgil currently was.

In his head, of course. He didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Virgil ran. He tore down the sidewalk, sprinting around corners and skidding away from the road. People were probably staring. He couldn’t see their faces, though. They blurred around him. Too many colors, the air was thick and heavy and pressing onto him and he couldn’t breathe--

Virgil ducked into the nearest subway entrance. He stumbled his way down the steps, sure he was going to fall. Somehow he managed to get all the way to the bottom. A few people were gathered at the edges. It was blissfully cool.

Virgil’s feet rung out against the tiles. He rushed over to the turnstile and tried to push through. Fuck. His card. Fuck, fuck--Virgil yanked on his zipper, breaking it, and practically tore his way into his backpack. It took him three tries to scan his card. He slammed open the turnstile and sprinted into the station, took the first turn he saw, and ended up next to an empty track with a glowing sign proclaiming that the next subway was in fifteen minutes.

Perfect. He’d just stay here for fourteen, then. Subways themselves freaked him out--too loud, too sudden, and the people on them always sent Virgil shuddering--but the cool underground darkness of the station was a relief. No one was here to stare as he sunk to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest, stuttering his way through his breathing.

Five things he could see.

The dim yellow glow of the lights far above him, the dark tunnel, the dirty stairs covered in gum, the old mosaic walls, his smudged sneakers.

Four things he could feel.

His hoodie, soft and comfortable around him. The strap of his backpack around his arm. The cool floor below him--probably filled with disease and germs, but Virgil was past thinking about that. His bangs falling over his face.

Three things he could hear.

The scuttling of a rat--ew--the whistle of a subway far above him, the distant strains of a street performer strumming their way through Stairway to Heaven.

Two things he could smell.

He could smell a lot of things, all of them very bad and most of them unidentifiable. He took another deep breath. His own sweat, and moldy pizza. Maybe. It could be moldy anything.

One thing he could taste.

Virgil ran his tongue over his lips. The remains of this morning’s espresso.

His heart was hammering just a little bit less.

Virgil took one more deep breath, leaned back, and kicked out his legs. The pavement was cold and rough under his hands but helped pull him back into his body a little more. The rat shimmied into a hole and disappeared.

Ten minutes until that subway came.

So.

He’d met his soulmate.

“Fuck,” Virgil said out loud to the empty tracks and the lurking darkness around him.

Nobody responded.

Okay. Virgil met his soulmate. This was fine. This was fine! He’d just never talk to the guy again. They’d go on their own way and never have to interact again. The dude probably wouldn’t want to see Virgil again, after Virgil had run out of the coffee shop like he’d been lit on fire.

That was another problem.

“Shit,” Virgil said, more quietly. He didn’t think he’d be fired for it. Remy would be pissed, but Remy liked Virgil well enough, and Remy wouldn’t fire him over a panic attack. Still, it was really fucking embarrassing. And he’d have to go back. He had a shift to complete today--

Virgil paused and shook out his hands. His whole body felt like it had been wrung through the wash. Or run over by a subway.

He pulled out his phone.

One text from Remy: girl u ok?

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed.

It took him three minutes to compose a text back.

taking the day off. u dont have 2 pay me. sry.

Virgil tapped on the ground to the rhythm of Remy’s little dots, trying and failing not to overthink what Remy was typing.

paying u anyway, but u owe me a cappucino tmrw, bitch

And then:

soulmate guy is still here btw. says he’s waiting to see if u want to come back

Virgil’s heartbeat, which had just reached a relatively normal resting rate, skyrocketed again.

The guy was still there? Didn’t he have stuff to do? A life? Why was he waiting around for some dude who’d stared at him then run out of the shop like a fucking weirdo?

Well, they were soulmates, weren’t they? That was the sort of romantic shit soulmates were supposed to do.

God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a fucking romantic. That’d be the worst. Virgil didn’t do romance, period. If Asshole Soulmate was looking for someone to smooch and bring flowers, he was out of luck.

Except it didn’t matter. They would never see each other again.

Virgil didn’t want to see him ever again.

He read Remy’s text again.

The sign above the tracks read three minutes left. If he didn’t hurry, he’d get caught off guard. He needed to go back up and walk home, then spend the rest of the day playing video games and eating snacks and practicing some fucking self-care.

He read Remy’s text a third time.

“Fuck,” Virgil remarked, just because he could, and because he hated everything about this.

He stood up, adjusted his backpack, and walked back up the steps.

The hot air hit him like a wall when he stepped outside. He shook himself and wished for a second that he could be comfortable meeting people without his hoodie. But he hated life without it, and he looked fucking awesome in it, so now he had to suffer.

Virgil pushed through the crowds, head low, and made his way back to the coffee shop.

It was still crowded when he peeked through the glass windows. Remy and the others were bustling around in their aprons--that’s when Virgil realized he hadn’t taken his apron off. Fuck. He untied it and shoved it mercilessly into his bag. Then he straightened.

A small tap sounded on the window.

Virgil looked over and almost spiraled into a second panic attack.

Asshole Soulmate was staring straight at him.

Virgil looked at him, gave him a little salute, and started to back away.

Asshole Soulmate gave him a piercing look. He was sitting at a small table, his laptop in front of him. He looked about Virgil’s age, Virgil figured, and he had a few piercings in one ear. That scar Virgil noticed earlier dipped into the curve of his mouth and made him look perpetually smirking. His beanie was lopsided like he’d been pulling at it. For some reason, Virgil found that kind of endearing. He had a firm nose and those deep brown eyes and long fingers that tapped at his laptop even as he watched Virgil--

And it didn’t matter what he looked like, because Virgil was leaving.

Something twisted in Asshole Soulmate’s expression when Virgil turned to walk away. Virgil pushed down the guilt in his chest. This was better for both of them. His soulmate would see that too, eventually.

Another tap on the window.

Virgil looked back despite himself. Asshole Soulmate was scribbling something on his notebook. He held up one finger as he wrote, clearly telling Virgil to give him a second.

Virgil gave him that second, shifting from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets. It was a mistake coming here, it just made him look weird, he needed to go--

Asshole Soulmate pressed his notebook against the window.

In neat black cursive were the words I will be here for twenty-four hours. If you’re interested in stopping by, I can make room for you on my schedule. The coffee here is mediocre, and tell your boss to add more sugar to the scones.

-Janus

Virgil stared at him.

Asshole Soulmate winked--actually winked, what planet was this guy from--and gave Virgil a secretive smirk. As if they were in on the joke together.

Virgil had never been more fucking confused in his entire life.

He’d met his soulmate, stared at his soulmate, and ran away. And said soulmate was waiting for him. Said soulmate was a dyed-hair college student with a smirk that screamed hide your wallet and neat cursive handwriting and glittering brown eyes.

His soulmate.

Janus.

J-A-N-U-S. Clear and dark against the window.

Virgil swallowed.

Janus. A weird name, but not bad, and it definitely matched the general weirdness of this guy. He swung the notebook away from the window and returned to typing, somehow completely ignoring Virgil and yet making it perfectly clear he knew Virgil was still standing there. Like a lost duck. Alone on the sidewalk, watching his soulmate tap at his computer at the smallest table in the coffee shop.

Another chair was pulled up on the other side. Room for two.

If Virgil wanted.

Virgil didn’t want.

Virgil turned away. Virgil walked home, backpack swinging from his shoulder, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a soulmate. Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and eating ice cream, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want trouble. Virgil ate reheated chicken and old celery for dinner, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a relationship. Virgil curled up on the couch and listened to his music, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want someone to complete him, someone to be stuck with him, someone who was a perfect match for Virgil according to the universe, but who knew what that actually meant in practice. He knew nothing about this guy.

And he didn’t want to learn.

Because he knew how this went. Love would run its course, and then there would be heartbreak, because Janus would learn that Virgil was just a screwup with dark clothes and anxiety and trust issues and a life with no trajectory.

Janus would stop waiting. No matter if the guy was a romantic or really nice or just stubborn, eventually he would give up.

Everyone always did.

Including Virgil.

Virgil didn’t want Janus, and he knew Janus wouldn’t want him, and the smartest thing to was just to move on with his life.

The zero on his wrist itched.

Fuck soulmates. Fuck Janus. Fuck the whole entire fucking universe.

It was eleven o’clock, and Virgil couldn’t sleep.

He wondered if Janus liked hugs. He wondered if Janus liked old, weird costumes. He wondered if Janus liked makeup and horror movies and drawing and coffee. He wondered if Janus was his age. Maybe they went to the same college. He wondered if Janus used the same hair dye he did, and if they could help each other with their hair, because Virgil always did it on his own and ended up staining his hands and his face and the whole kitchen sink.

He wondered if he was a fucking idiot for even considering this.

No, he knew that. Virgil was an idiot. Virgil was a complete fucking moron who looked at a dark hole, knew how to avoid it, and thought about falling in anyway just to see what it was like.

Just to see what he was like.

Janus, with his stupid smirk and stupid cursive and stupid hat.

It was a really stupid hat. Only Janus could even pull it off, and he barely did. It was just on the edge of charming and if Virgil was being really uncharitable, it was crossing that edge into straight-up ridiculous.

Virgil wondered how he got his scar. Where he got his shirt. What he was working on in the coffee shop, whether he’d been there before, who told him. He’d ordered a scone. He had complaints. Maybe he liked to cook and bake. That’d be pretty cool, Virgil missed home-cooked food, he usually just microwaved some takeout--

What was he even thinking?

Virgil groaned and turned over on the couch, grabbing one cushion and pulling it over his head. Fuck home-cooked meals. Fucking beanies. Fucking domestic little scenes that he now found playing out in his head, as if that was realistic, as if he hadn’t just met the guy and immediately ruined it and decided he’d never see him again.

Soulmates.

Fucking soulmates.

Fucking soulmates who were probably still at the coffee shop. He’d said twenty-four hours. He’d still be there. It was a twenty four-hour shop and he’d still be sitting there, maybe working on whatever he was working on, smirking with that smirk of his and waiting for Virgil.

Stubborn. Kind of stupid. Maybe a little desperate, too.

Virgil was all three, so he had to respect that.

It was midnight now. Virgil should be sleeping. Sleep deprivation was bad for his anxiety, which was already a thick mass in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have his second panic attack of the day, and that’d be a fucking nightmare.

Virgil sighed and curled up tighter on the couch. He wasn’t tired. His brain was running at the speed of light and kept circling back to Janus, Janus waiting, Janus his soulmate and bound to be disappointed but what if--what if--

Virgil wasn’t a hopeful person. He liked being either pessimistic or downright cynical--it left less room for disappointment.

He was hoping now, though, and it terrified him.

“Fuck!” he yelled into his empty apartment.

The only response was the dull throb of a party downstairs, a steady beat that made Virgil’s head swim.

He’d never wanted to be stuck in the city. But he hadn’t thought he could handle the college dorms, so he’d grabbed an apartment, and found he could handle that even less.

Virgil was a mess. A failure. A twenty-one-year-old disappointment with a test tomorrow and a brain that wouldn’t shut up and a bunch of pipe dreams he knew would never come true. This was just one of them. Soulmates, lucrative jobs, moving to Venus and becoming a planetary god--they all seemed like crap in the light of day.

It wasn’t day, though. It was late at night and Virgil’s brain was fried and the heat had finally died down. It would be nice outside. Walking around the city at late wasn’t super safe, but he’d take a switchblade and some pepper spray, and the coffee shop was just down the street.

He was actually considering this, wasn’t he?

Fuck.

Janus was waiting for him. Janus wouldn’t leave for twenty-four hours, and at the very least, he should give Janus an excuse to stop waiting. Janus would need some sleep.

Virgil needed some sleep too, and Janus was the thing keeping him from it, the face in his mind when he closed his eyes.

He should at least apologize.

Virgil sighed, rolled off the couch, pulled on his hoodie, and slipped into his shoes. He double-checked the lock on the apartment door, ran his hands over his pepper spray, and took the stairs because the elevator might get stuck or catch on fire. He walked as fast as he could down the sidewalk, avoiding the crowds of people under the neon lights, clouds drifting over the sky and skyscrapers gleaming in the distance.

The coffee shop was lit up when he approached. He told himself Janus was probably gone. He was fucking with Virgil, maybe, or he’d just gotten bored and went home. This was stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and Virgil could just turn around and go home--

Janus was still sitting there. He was nursing a huge cup of coffee and a plate next to him with a half-finished croissant. His chin was in his hand and he kept yawning, but he was still blinking blearily at his laptop screen.

Well, fuck.

Virgil sighed. He’d come too far to turn back now, and any minute Janus would look up and see Virgil standing outside the coffee shop again.

Okay. He was...he was going to order some coffee. And he’d sit down and if Janus motioned him over, he’d sit with Janus. But he wouldn’t make the first move. That meant he’d have plausible deniability if...well, he didn’t know exactly what, but maybe if Janus was trying to argue with him or kill him. How would he know?

Midnight coffee shop. The perfect place for a murder.

Virgil shook himself. It wasn’t empty. Remy was right there. And if shit got real, Virgil had pepper spray and could bolt out of there again.

This was fine.

This was completely fucking fine.

Virgil took a deep breath, buried his hands tight in his hoodie, and opened the door.

Virgil barely ever took late-night shifts at the shop. They weirded him the fuck out--he preferred to stay inside when it was dark. And when it was too sunny, and when it was crowded, and just generally, but especially at night. Night was filled with murderers and vampires and shadow demons. Weirdass people got coffee at midnight and Virgil didn’t want to ever have to deal with them.

And now he’d become one of those weirdass people.

And he was seeing the coffee shop in a whole new light, the floor gleaming with yellow, the windows practically opaque except for pricks of red and white lights from the city around them. It was dead quiet except for the low hum of music, the occasional shifting of one of the only customers, and Remy wiping down the counter.

Virgil let the door swing shut behind him. It thudded way too loud and he jumped. All the customers looked up. Old dude with a salt-and-pepper beard, younger woman with long blue hair and more piercings than skin, and Janus. Janus. Janus looked up at Virgil and raised one eyebrow.

Virgil pointed to the counter, hoping it conveyed “I’m gonna get a coffee and decide whether or not I’m gonna bolt again. Stay there.”

Janus nodded and turned away. The light from his laptop illuminated the planes of his face and the way his eyes kept flickering up to Virgil. Virgil hunched into his hoodie and pointedly ignored him.

Remy gave Virgil a searching look when Virgil reached the counter. “Hey, babes.”

“Hey, Remy.” Virgil looked around at the menu. “Espresso with--”

“Hold on, no way.” Remy tipped his sunglasses down and shook his head. “You had one this morning, girl, and that stuff ain’t good for you.”

“Says you,” Virgil pointed out.

“Shut up, this stuff is my lifeblood. But there’s still hope for you.” Remy took a swig of his own coffee. “Anyway, you won’t sleep for a week if I give you more espresso, so nah, girl, try again.”

“It’s midnight,” Virgil complained. “And Rem, I’m not gonna get through this conversation without it.”

Remy paused and sighed. “I guess the customer is always right. One espresso, double shot--”

“Triple shot.”

“Double shot, bitch, or I’ll throw it at your head.” Remy slid over to the coffee machine and started it up. “So...you’ve got a boyf.”

Virgil almost hissed. “I do not!”

“Fine, you’ve got a pre-boyf.” Remy popped up and began filling a coffee cup. He glanced at Janus, who was studiedly not looking at them, though Virgil was pretty sure he was listening. “He’s alright, kinda fine, the hat is stupid.”

“The hat is stupid,” Virgil agreed.

Janus stopped typing. Virgil watched to see what he would do.

He turned around and flipped them both off.

Well. That was more entertaining than expected. Virgil smirked and returned the gesture, and Janus snorted before returning to his work.

“You’re made for each other,” Remy drawled.

Virgil growled, the smile immediately falling off his face. “Give me the fucking coffee.”

“Yikes, girl, would a ‘please’ kill you?” Remy slid Virgil’s coffee over. “Now pay up.”

“I’m an employee.”

“And I’m fabulous and don’t want to be here. Tough tits, emo.”

Virgil groaned and slapped a five on the counter. “One of these days I’m quitting.”

“Sure, babes.” Remy slipped the bill into the register and gave Virgil a little wave. “Say hi to your pre-boyf. And don’t worry,” he added, smile growing a little softer, “I’ll kick his ass if necessary.”

“You couldn’t fight your way out of a coffee cup,” Virgil said, but he gave Remy a little salute anyway.

And with coffee in hand, he took another deep breath and walked over to Janus.

Janus had already moved his things off the table, which meant there were several stacks of binders and textbooks by his feet. He shuffled a few papers, stuck them under the lid of his laptop, and closed it slowly. Virgil nodded at him and sat in the other chair, kicking at the ground, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t espresso. It was a pumpkin spice latte. Goddammit, Remy.

“Hello,” Janus said slowly, and Virgil looked up.

There was a good three inches of space between them. It wasn’t enough to make Virgil feel less trapped, less gutted under Janus’ gaze.

Virgil fidgeted with his coffee and kicked at the table leg instead. It made the whole table wobble. Janus gave him a look and steadied his notebooks.

“Lot of stuff,” Virgil remarked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Do you usually bring the Amazon Rainforest to a coffee shop?”

“Yes, I carry it upon my back as penance for my many crimes.” Janus snorted. “Patton dropped it off later, after I decided I was staying.”

“Patton?”

“My roommate.” Janus waved a hand. “I figured I would get some studying done while I waited.”

“You’re in school?” Virgil asked. He wished he’d brought his fidget toy or something. Instead, he was left sipping a pumpkin spice latte and staring out the window instead of at Janus. Janus didn’t seem to mind, but still, Virgil wished he could curl up in his hoodie and disappear.

“College,” Janus said. “You?”

“College.” Virgil shifted. “I’m--assuming the same one?”

Janus shook his head. “I actually live in Britain. I just teleport here for the coffee.”

Virgil stared at him for a second before his tired brain realized the sarcasm. He snorted in surprise. Janus looked weirdly pleased with himself.

“What do you study?” Janus asked after a few seconds.

“Oh, um--” Virgil shifted. “Graphic design.”

“Graphic design,” Janus repeated, a smile playing around his lips. “So your career aspirations are poverty and well-designed party invitations.”

Usually, that would make Virgil angry. He didn't like when people made fun of his major. But the obvious tease in Janus’ voice, plus the way he laid it all out on the table, made Virgil weirdly relaxed. Janus could bite back. And that was kind of a relief. He wasn’t just a bland nice guy, which meant maybe--just maybe--he was a little bit equipped to handle Virgil.

“What about you?” Virgil asked.

“Double major,” Janus said. “Theater and psychology.”

“Got it.” Virgil smirked and decided to take a risk. “So your career aspiration is being a super villain.”

And Janus laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth, eyes crinkling.

It was a nice laugh.

Not that Virgil cared, of course.

“Of course, can’t you tell?” Janus asked, still chuckling. “I think I could pull off a cape.”

“Sure,” Virgil said, a little bubble of confidence forming. “Just like you pull off the hat.”

“I don’t understand all the hat hate!” Janus exclaimed, a twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he was teasing again, and Virgil usually hated sarcasm and in-jokes. Too confusing. Too double-edged and shifty. Except with Janus, it was so blatantly obvious every time, and Virgil didn't have to worry about hidden meanings. He just got to...talk. And tease back.

He almost never got to do that.

“Surely you’ve worn a hat once,” Janus continued, folding his arms. “You must understand the art if you’re to judge me. Have you worn a hat?”

“Wow, pretty quick with the personal questions there,” Virgil said. “You don’t even know my name.”

“It’s Samantha.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil paused. “Um, not literally. I’m ace. And--aro.”

And Janus looked ridiculously relieved. “Oh, thank fuck, you’re sensible. I was worried about that.”

A flicker of hope in Virgil’s chest. “You’re--”

“Aro too.” Janus waved a hand. “And sexuality is a quagmire that baffles me. We’re on the same page.”

Virgil almost smiled.

“What is your name?” Janus asked idly, stirring a spoon in his coffee and watching Virgil with that same piercing look. “I've been calling you Emo Soulmate in my head and it’s not at all annoying.”

“Well, you were Asshole Soulmate,” Virgil said, and enjoyed another laugh from Janus. “But no, I’m not telling you my name. You’re a stranger.”

Janus gave an offended little gasp and pressed a hand to his heart. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fucking rude, Emo Soulmate.” Janus shook his head sorrowfully. “No manners at all.”

“Deal with it.” Virgil gave up on his pumpkin spice latte entirely. He shot Remy a glare. Remy was cleaning the counter again, humming to himself and occasionally giving Virgil finger guns. Virgil flipped him off and Remy cackled.

“So,” Janus said finally, “if names are off-limits, is there anything I do get to know about you?”

“I told you my major.”

“Lots of idiots are graphic designers, you’re not special.” Janus paused. “I...I feel like we got off on a less-than-great foot--”

“Yeah, you think?” Virgil caught himself before he could continue. “It, um--wasn’t your fault though. Um. Go on.”

“Thank you,” Janus said smoothly. It was unfair that he got to be so poised and Virgil was still trembling under the table. One of the customers left, the door thudding shut behind them, a blast of night air whipping Virgil’s bangs and making him shiver in his hoodie. “As I was saying, I’d--I’d like to get to know you.”

“Creepy,” Virgil said. “What do you want, an ice-breaker session? What color matches your soul?”

“Yellow,” Janus said immediately.

“What--” Virgil laughed. “You actually have an answer?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Janus spread his hands. “What about you?”

“I don’t--” Virgil covered his mouth as he laughed harder. “Dude, no. Just--no.”

“You’re probably black,” Janus said, undeterred.

“To match my coffee and my soul?”

“And the emo aesthetic, of course.” Janus paused. “Actually, I think you'd be more purple. Since you like purple.”

“I like purple?”

“I would hope so, since you’re wearing that hoodie and fidgeting with the sleeve like it’s your only lifeboat in a sea of insanity.”

Virgil flushed. “Um. Yeah. I do like purple. I--made this hoodie, actually. Back in high school. It’s a comfort thing, makes it easier to feel like I’m hiding, which makes my brain shut up for a bit.”

Then Virgil decided he was going to die in a hole, because why had he said all that, Janus was gonna be weirded out--wait, since when did he care about that--

“It looks good on you,” Janus said, and Virgil almost choked on thin air. “It’s stitched quite well--edgy yet strangely charming.”

Virgil recovered himself enough to smirk. “That’s what I was going for.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Janus glanced out the window. A car careened past them on the street, headlights swirling in the darkness.

“It’s late,” Virgil said idly, because he might as well just dig himself deeper at this point.

“You were the one who chose to meet at this time,” Janus pointed out.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” Virgil asked. They were entering dangerous territory, but he clenched his fists and soldiered on. “Fall asleep on your mountains of paper, alone and bereft?”

“Oh, darling, no.” Janus swirled his coffee. “You see this? Seven espresso shots. If I want to stay awake, I do.”

“Remy let you have seven?” Virgil blurted out. “Not fair!”

“It’s because I seduced him,” Janus said with a poker face.

Virgil snorted. He didn’t like his laugh much, which wasn’t usually a problem because he didn’t laugh very often. Now, though--maybe it was the late night, but he almost couldn’t stop himself.

“Anyway, it’s not like I’m new to this,” Janus added, taking a sip of coffee. “I am double-majoring, after all.”

“Yeah, and that’s fucking impressive,” Virgil said. “I think I’d die of stress.”

“The jury’s still out on me,” Janus admitted.

Silence again. Virgil tapped his fingers against the glass. It was cold beneath his touch and he shivered.

“I still like the question idea,” Janus finally said.

“Then shoot,” Virgil said, shrugging. “I don’t bite.”

“I doubt that.”

Virgil grinned and bared his teeth. Janus hissed back, his nose wrinkled. It was actually really adorable.

Janus composed himself quickly, though. “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Spiders,” Virgil said without hesitation. “Favorite food?”

“The souls of the innocent.” Janus snickered when Virgil did. “I suppose...caviar?”

“Caviar,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head. “You can’t be real, you pretentious little fuckwad.”

“Charming, do you treat all your acquaintances this way?” Janus didn’t sound mad at all. “And I’m most certainly real. Unless I’m not.”

“Dude, don’t give me an existential crisis, c’mon.” Virgil bit his lip. “Your turn for questions.”

“Favorite book?”

“Black Cauldron. Favorite movie?”

“The Godfather. Favorite musical?”

“Um, Heathers.” Janus gave Virgil an of course look and Virgil swatted at him. “Favorite show?”

“Pride and Prejudice miniseries, 1995.” Janus paused. “I’m simultaneously learning nothing and everything about you.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause this is shallow shit,” Virgil said. “If you wanna actually know what I’m like beneath the eyeliner, you have to dig deeper.”

“Am I allowed to?” Janus asked.

Virgil opened his mouth to say no, of course not, vulnerability was his kryptonite and trust was his poison, and in fact he really had to go.

“Yes,” Virgil said.

Janus looked surprised. He couldn’t possibly be more surprised than Virgil felt. Virgil, who figured he’d lost control of his brain or something, because he was talking to a stranger who was his soulmate and it was midnight in a coffee shop and Janus glowed golden against the dark windows.

“Well, then.” Janus tapped on the table. “Where did you grow up?”

“Stalker,” Virgil muttered.

“You did say--”

“I know, I know.” Virgil hunched his shoulders. Honestly, that wasn’t as bad as he expected. “Outside of the city, actually. Few miles out. Suburbs.”

“You in suburbia? Perish the thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a good match.” Virgil chewed on his lip. “Do I? Get to ask you questions too?”

“Yes. My turn.”

“Hey!” Virgil complained. Janus laughed.

“Who’s your best friend?” Virgil blurted out before Janus stole his question.

“Look who’s the stalker now,” Janus drawled. “I...Patton, my roommate, I suppose. I don’t--have many close friends.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “me neither.”

There was a long moment of silence. Remy had gone in the back and all the customers except for them were gone. The tables and floors gleamed in the light. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, muted by the gentle hum of music and the bubbling roar of traffic. It felt surreal. Too polished, too bright, too sharp to be real. Like Virgil would wake up tomorrow and know he’d never met his soulmate, his timer still counting down, Janus just a figment of his imagination.

Virgil looked down at his wrist for confirmation. A zero, in black ink, outlined in yellow by the harsh lights of the shop

“What do you want?”

Virgil looked up at Janus, who had that penetrating expression again, like he was trying to commit every bit of Virgil to memory. Virgil didn’t get what was so interesting. He had purple hair and purple patches on his jacket and messy eyeliner and probably some sort of scowl. But Janus looked at him like Virgil had all the secrets of the universe and Janus was decoding them, one by one.

Again, it should have been scary.

Virgil wasn’t scared.

And that, in itself, scared him.

“Be more specific,” Virgil said. “Like, right now? Right now I want some real coffee, for starters.”

“Not that,” Janus said, waving a hand. “From...life, I suppose. What’s your biggest dream?”

Virgil shifted. “I dunno. I don’t think about it much.”“You don’t?”

“Nah, anxiety makes it pretty freaky to think about the future.” Virgil thought for a second. “Um. I guess...I wanted to be a fashion designer, when I was little.”

Janus tilted his head. “What changed?”

“Didn’t have the time or materials.” Virgil shrugged and looked at the table. “Or...the drive, I guess. High school was rough and I needed a career path that gave me a quick buck.”

Janus snorted. “So you chose graphic design?”

“Shut up!” Virgil complained, swatting at Janus again. Janus dodged out of reach, grinning. “They both have design in them!”

“Whatever you say,” Janus chuckled.

“Anyway, yeah.” Virgil fidgeted with his sleeve. “Making clothes, making stuff--I still like to do it. So I guess that’s my dream, maybe.”

Janus looked thoughtful for a second, and Virgil felt like an idiot. Being a fashion designer was stupid. And here he was, dumping his life and regrets on a stranger. Fucking idiot.

“You’d be a good one,” Janus said, and once again, Virgil was thrown completely and utterly off guard. How did someone so surprising still set him at ease? “Of course I haven’t seen your work, but I like your jacket, and I think you’d be good at it. However, you have to promise to make me any outfit I want when you become famous.”

“Oh really,” Virgil said, feeling completely fucking exhilarated by the compliment. Which was pathetic, but it also gave him another burst of confidence, so worth it. “Let me guess, a cape, a red-and-black tunic with gold trim, a supportive uncle and firebending powers--”

“Scar jokes,” Janus said, his mouth twitching. “Bold.”

Virgil’s confidence immediately left him. “I--yeah, sorry--that was--”

“Funny,” Janus interrupted. “And it’s better than just ignoring it. I have a scar, it looks incredible if I do say so myself, and Avatar is a great show.”

Virgil smiled sheepishly. “You sure?”

“You’re fine.” Janus was silent for a long time, twisting his fingers together. Lights played across his face. The scar was old, Virgil noticed, and ugly, like it had never gotten properly stitched back together. Virgil rubbed at a grease spot on the edge of the table and let the quiet stretch between them.

“It was a car accident,” Janus said, his voice soft. “I was seven."

“Oh,” Virgil said, hating himself for not thinking of anything else. “That sucks.”

“Yes, it did.” Janus folded his hands on the table. “Your turn to ask a question, Emo Soulmate.”

“Oh! Yeah. Right.” Virgil bit his lip. “Um. Greatest fear?”

“Coming for me psychologically, I see. Excellent plan.” Janus shrugged. “Government control, I suppose. Or dying in obscurity.”

“Yeah, for me it’s just dying,” Virgil said, “but good for you.”

“Thank you.” Janus laughed and was silent again for a few more seconds. And Virgil usually hated the quiet, but this quiet was nice and comforting and felt more like a lull than an awkward pause, and why was this guy taking everything that usually made him anxious and somehow making it fine?

“Why did you run?”

Virgil’s fingers spasmed on the table. Well. So much for that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to respond,” Janus said slowly, “but I’m curious.”

“I--” The words stuck in Virgil’s throat. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Janus’ voice dipped. “Me?”

“No!” Virgil was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You’re--you were fine. A little awkward, but that made sense, and...yeah. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good,” Janus said, and Virgil was surprised by the relief in his voice. He’d been worried about that, hadn’t he? He’d thought Virgil saw him and didn’t like him, or maybe he was even worried about his scar, and yet he’d still waited just in case Virgil came back and changed his mind.

God, Virgil didn’t deserve this soulmate.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Virgil said. “I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Janus’ face was achingly soft. “I’d just like to know.”

“Yeah. I--” Virgil curled his fingers. “I was just--scared. I was scared of...soulmates. Having one. Being one. I guess I--I never really wanted one, and you just showed up, and I know you didn’t ask for me as your soulmate but--”

Janus didn’t prod Virgil or push him to continue, which weirdly, made him gain the courage he needed to keep going.

“I’m not--” Virgil waved at himself. “And you’re--ugh, I just, I hate what everyone says about soulmates, that they’re supposed to complete each other, to fix it each other. You--I’m not--you can’t fix me. I’m not--I’m anxious, I’m a mess, I’m not going to be good enough for you and you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life! That’s not--” Virgil swallowed. “That’s not fair to you.”

Janus was quiet. Virgil slammed his mouth shut, sat on his hands, and decided he was going to leave the city and become a strawberry farmer. Strawberry farmers didn’t have to talk to their soulmates and brace themselves for inevitable rejection, because Janus got it now, and now he was going to leave--

“I don’t like people,” Janus said.

Okay, yeah, Virgil didn’t expect that. He looked up hesitantly. Janus looked more determined than ever.

“Society is an illusion and the world is corrupt,” Janus continued. “Most people I meet are either mindless, dull, or sickeningly sweet. It’s a very rare person who actually manages to entertain me, and even rarer for them to be kind and funny and intelligent and very clearly a good person.”

Virgil stared at him. He thought he knew where Janus was going, but that couldn’t be right--why was he--

“And I’m a liar.” Janus shrugged. “It’s a defense mechanism. I’ve barely trusted anyone in my life, I lash out when people antagonize me, and I’m such a fan of vulnerability in general.”

“Mood,” Virgil said, his brain still screaming what the fuck is happening.

“So I’m not perfect,” Janus said. “And I must admit...I hoped, for a while, that a soulmate would magically erase those problems. It’s what society tells us. I had higher hopes than were healthy. I projected a lot of things onto that soulmate--trust and honesty and a chance to be--more than myself. To be, to use your word, fixed.” Janus laughed a bit. “But then I actually met you. And...no.”

“Rude,” Virgil muttered.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Janus leaned forward. “You’re not--you’re a person. You’re edgy and snarky and a little nervous but it’s incredibly adorable, and you make me laugh, and even though you were clearly terrified you came back and gave me a second chance. It’s hard to project anything onto you when you’re actually here, sitting in front of me, and that’s when I actually realized--” Janus shook his head. “You are not my soulmate because you’re supposed to fix me. And I am not your soulmate because I’m supposed to solve your problems. We’re soulmates because we make each other laugh, and because I think your hoodie is cute, and because you didn’t make any comments about my scar. We’re soulmates because we make each other feel better. Not perfect, not ‘fixed,’ just a little bit better. The rest of the work we have to do on our own.”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“So.” Janus swallowed. “I completely understand your reservations, but...it’s getting late, and I think we both need some sleep. So I’d like to request your number?”

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed. “That whole dramatic speech was just a ploy to get my number? Shame on you.”

“You caught me,” Janus said. His face softened. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just...it’s hard to let go of all the expectations. But how about we try? How about we be you and me for a while, and see how that goes?”

“But--” Virgil shook his head. “Soulmates--they’re supposed to be your whole life--”

“Supposed to be. As I said, society is a sham.” Janus reached out a hand and laid it on the table, palm up. “I’m not asking for your whole life, and I never will. I’d--I’d just like to be a part of it.”

Virgil tried to catch his breath. His eyes were stinging. He giggled a little, because he couldn’t help it, and because Janus was staring at him with such open hesitation and fuck, he was cute.

He was cute.

He was Janus.

Janus was his soulmate--and Janus was Janus, and that was more important.

Virgil looked at the zero on his wrist, turned it over, and took Janus’ hand.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “That--that sounds great. Actually.”

“Lovely, darling.” Janus smiled, bright and beautiful, and Virgil was dizzy with affection. “In that case, may I have your number and your name?”

“Whoa, two at once? Easy there.” Virgil chuckled and tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “Um. My name’s Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Janus repeated.

“Yeah.” Janus smiled wider. “It’s lovely to meet you, Virgil.”

Virgil looked back, at the guy he’d been so afraid of, the soulmate he’d hoped he’d never meet. Who wanted him. Who knew who he was and wanted him anyway.

Virgil’d had it wrong and also right, which pretty much added up. Yeah, he’d been wrong about the whole running thing. Janus wanted him. Janus waited, and Janus smiled, and Janus thought he was funny. Janus wanted his number.

Yeah, Virgil thought he’d been fine on his own. But he was so much better than fine with Janus across from him, holding his hand.

He’d been right, too. Soulmates didn’t matter. Not that much. Janus was his soulmate, and who the fuck knew what that meant? Not Virgil. It was just some gift bag dumped randomly on his doorstep, a timer clicking down to zero.It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Because Janus was Janus, and Virgil’s skin was on fire where Janus touched it, and suddenly his wild dreams of a roommate and home-cooked meals and dyed hair didn’t seem too far off at all.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate, because even if he wasn’t, Virgil would stay.

Meant for each other? Maybe. Destined? Apparently. Supposed to complete each other? Yeah, only in the loosest of terms. Virgil was still Virgil and Janus was still Janus, soulmates or no.

And for some reason--for some incredible reason--that just made things better.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Virgil liked him no matter what.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” Janus said again, as if he was repeating it to himself, rolling Virgil’s name around in his mouth. It sounded beautiful in his voice. Janus had a beautiful voice--thick and smooth and deep, like a river Virgil would gladly drown in.

And he glowed bright in the yellow lights of the coffee shop, the world rushing outside, the darkness kept at bay and the world polished and gleaming and on fire.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, finding that he was smiling wider than he ever had. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

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oliviaischillin1204 · 4 years

Note

Any chance of you torturing Logan in your ler mood?

mayhaps :3

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Word Count: 1,827 words

listen there’s some self deprecation happening in my brain atm but we’re gonna ignore that one folks cuz i’m not dealing with that today. have a fic instead.

“You’re in quite the predicament. How about you logic yourself out of this, hm?”

Roman’s voice was low and dangerous, and Logan bit his lip to stay silent. He was in so much trouble.

“We all noticed the way you’ve been acting all touchy-feely with us today,” Roman continued, his fingers just barely tracing over Logan’s exposed armpits. He twitched on instinct, but his forearms were snugly pinned between Roman’s chest and the arm of the couch, keeping him trapped and exposed.

“All because you were just so desperate for someone to give you teeny little pokies in your armpits, or scritchy-scratch all over your tum-tum, or to wiggle our fingers all over those sweet little toesies. It took a lot to resist just pinning you down and tickle-tickle-tickling you all day long, but we wanted to make you wait. Because now–”

Roman leaned closer to Logan’s ear, breath warm as he practically purred, “it’s gonna feel so much worse.”

Logan whined softly, his ears heating up at the small noise. His blush only continued to spread as he heard Patton’s giggling coming from the other end of the couch.

“Oh, Roman’s being super teasy today! Look, he’s making Logan scrunch his toes!”

Patton gestured, and to Logan embarrassment his toes were indeed scrunched as tight as he could make them. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

Patton made an awwing sound, a few finger coming to lightly scratch underneath his toe line. “Better uncurl those little piggies, cutiepants!”

Logan made a small squeak as he struggled to fight off Patton’s gentle tickles. Roman chuckled darkly in his ear.

“Those restraints were a great idea, huh, Logi Bear? They’re a little stretchy, so you can actually pull your feet away from Patton’s fingers. Go ahead, try it!” he continued at Logan’s hesitation. After a moment, he pulled his knees up to his chest, and found with some surprise that he was able to pull his feet away with relatively little resistance. He looked up at Roman, who gave him a sharp smile.

“See, you can get away!” he said, voice full of innocence. The sweetness of his words turned sickly, however, as he continued, “For a little while. But we’re gonna be tickling you for a very, very long time, and you need to keep your strength up to keep pulling your feet back.”

Logan realized with a start that Roman was right: already his legs were slightly shaking with the effort to pull his feet back in the elastic restraints. His eyes widened, and suddenly Virgil was laughing quietly, the first time he’d made a noise since Logan first laid down on his lap.

“Can you imagine how hard that’ll be when we start tickling you for real?” he asked, and abruptly squeezed one of Logan’s knees. A short yell of shock escaped the logical side, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut, his chest heaving with contained laughter.

Virgil rased an eyebrow. “Wow, you’re still trying not to laugh? That’s cute. Stupid, but cute.”

He brought his other hand up to squeeze at Logan’s other knee, and Logan’s body couldn’t help jolting at the sensations.

“See, it’s all about core strength,” Roman continued, like nothing was happening. “You can pull against the elastic by engaging your core muscles, but what happens when those core muscles are under attack by– oh, I don’t know, Virgil?”

Virgil grinned, predatory and sly. “On it.”

With that, he shot both hands down to Logan’s belly, scribbling and spidering all over the taut skin. Logan gasped, arching his back instinctively, but all that did was thrust his torso towards Virgil’s tickly fingers.

“Tickle tickle tickle, little Logi Bear,” Virgil cooed, and dammit why did hearing those words in his low voice make Logan want to curl up and die. “It’s either pit and tummy tickles or tootsie tickles. Your choice.”

“N- neither,” Logan spat, dangerously close to letting a stray giggle slip out. He would not laugh. He would not laugh. He–

Virgil vibrated all ten fingers deep into Logan’s stomach, and the logical side burst into helpless laughter.

“There it is!” Patton cheered, clapping at the display happening in front of him. “There’s that little Logan laughter! Oh, look how cute he is, all blushy and giggly!”

“Sh– shut up!” Logan managed, turning his head in a weak attempt to hide his burning face in his upper arm. He jumped in surpirse as he felt Roman’s fingers finally press into his exposed armpits, wiggling into his pits and making his laughter jump up a notch.

“No hiding, Logi Bear,” he teased. “We wanna see that perfect smile! You’re already laughing so hard, it’s so cute. How are your legs feeling?”

Logan couldn’t answer, but there was a growing ball of anticipation in his tummy as he realized his feet were slowly being pulled back towards Patton by the elastic restraints. He tried to pull them back towards himself, but he was already growing weak from the others’ tickles.

Paton giggled and wiggled his fingers in the direction of Logan’s approaching feet. “Someone’s gonna get their toesies tickled! Your little piggies are gonna get some ticky-tickles, Logan!”

“Nohoho!” Logan weakly protested, but his words fell off into more laughter as Virgil began methodically scribbling his fingers all over his stomach, from top to bottom and side to side.

“Shh, I know. I know it tickles, but you’re just gonna have to deal with it. Don’t bother begging, because we all know you’re lying. You want the tickles, and we’re gonna give ‘em to you. Just laugh for us, L.”

Virgil continued making incessant shushing noises as he raked his fingers across Logan’s stomach, over and over and over again. As if the logical side could in any way silence the frantic giggles pouring out of him.

“Plehehe– plehehease!” he begged, weakly trying to pull his legs back up to his chest, but all Virgil had to do was dig his thumbs into the stretch of tummy just above his hips, and Logan’s strength gave out.

“Got ‘em!” Patton said triumphantly. True to their word, both Virgil and Roman stopped their hands, letting all of Logan’s attention go to the feeling of Patton’s fingers ghosting over his feet.

“So now, when I do this…”

Patton quickly scribbled his fingers down Logan’s soles, and the logical side squealed loudly. He tugged at his ankles, but he could no longer muster the strength to pull away from the tickles.

“Uh oh!” Patton cooed sweetly, picking up the pace as he focused his attention on the balls of Logan’s feet. “Is Logi Bear a little too giggly to pull these tootsies away? Huh? I bet that makes the tickles feel so much more tickly, huh, Logi? Oh, if you only you weren’t so ticklish!” he finished in a faux-sympathetic voice.

His fingers congregated on Logan’s toes, and the logical side’s laughter nearly turned to screams as his feeling of total helplessness increased.

Patton only laughed at Logan’s frantic state. “Aw, poor little Lo-Lo. Maybe some more tickly-tickles will cheer you up!”

He nodded to Virgil and Roman, and after a few moments they too began amping up their tickles again: Virgil wiggled one delicate finger into his bellybutton while the others spidered up and down his belly, and Roman began playing two-fingered hopscotch in each of Logan’s pits.

“Nahahaha– nahahaha–” Logan laughed, throwing himself so far to the side he almost feel onto the fllor. Virgil paused his tickling for a brief moment to hoist him firmly back onto his lap.

“You trying to escape, L?” he asked, targeting Logan’s tummy with a renewed vigor. “Huh? Logan’s trying to wiggle away?”

Patton gasped in delight. “Oh, he’s just like a little worm now! Wiggle wiggle wiggle, little wormy!”

A choked sound escaped from Logan’s mouth as Virgil, evil Virgil, began squeezing Logan’s hips in time with Patton’s words, making him writhe in place in a similar manner to a worm. Roman joined in, reaching down to spider his fingers over Logan’s upper ribs and making his upper body lean to and fro.

“Wormy Logi! Squirmy wormy Logi!” Roman chanted, leaning down to ghost his breath over Logan’s ear. “Such a cutie patootie little worm. Aren’t you, Logi?”

He coupled the tease with tasering his fingers into Logan’s top rib, and Logan shrieked, his body going completely straight and stiff before falling limp against his captors.

“Ahahahahahaha! Nahahahahaha! I cahahaha–”

His words dissolved into unintelligible babbling as he laid completely still, aside from a few small twitches and wiggles.

Virgil gave him a few more pinches to his hipbones before pulling back his hands, gesturing for the others to do the same.

“Green?” he asked, summoning a water bottle with a straw and letting Logan drink.

Logan panted heavily after drinking, unable to even muster the strength to lift his head from the pillow. He nodded weakly.

Roman gently rubbed Logan’s upperarms without tickling, soothing away any potential aches. “Had enough?”

A beat, and then Logan’s head lolled from side to side in a tired shake.

Patton raised his eyebrows. “You sure, honey? That was a lot, and you seem really tired. We can stop for now–”

“No!” Logan interjected, face going slightly pink at his intensity. He floundered for a minute under their gazes before he sighed agan, embarrassed.

“The whole… ‘too weak to move’ thing,” he mumbled, not making eye contact. “I kind of… I kind of like it.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Virgil, surprisingly, spoke first.

“Have we been going too easy on you?”

Logan froze at the tone of Virgil’s voice. He peeked up at him, and found the emo side smirking at him quite threateningly.

“Because,” he continued slowly, “if you really want us to keep tickling all of your special little spots until you’re so tired you can’t even try to get away anymore…”

His fingers began slowly akimming over Logan’s belly again, and the logical side whined in anticipation as he felt his laughter bubbling up again.

“… We can definitely do that,” Virgil finished. Roman and Patton looked to Logan, their hands hovering over his tickle spots expectantly.

Logan could feel himself blushing again, but he knew they wouldn’t start again unless he said so. Unless he asked.

So he asked.

“Please?”

Immediately Roman was leaning over the arm of the couch to raspberry his neck while scratching his fingers all over his pits; Virgil switched to massaging deep into Logan’s tummy with one hand and plucking his ribs like a piano with the other; and Patton seemed to be playing a game with himself in which he tested how long he could tickle in between Logan’s toes before his feet jerked back on reflex.

“Aw, Logan,” Roman murmured, leaning down to nuzzle his ear as Logan laughed and laughed and laughed. “We’re gonna have so much fun with you.”

#Anonymous #asks #my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #prompt #(not really but for tagging purposes that's what i'm putting lol)#lee!logan #ler!roman #ler!patton #ler!virgil #i have literally no idea if read mores work with asks so apologies if this looks whack akdhsj

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wesley Weston Characters: Danny Fenton, Wesley Weston, Jazz Fenton, Maddie Fenton Additional Tags: Walker is mentioned repeatedly, Phantom Family AU, Revelations, being a lil shit is genetic apparently, Danny swears in stars and constellations and space stuff, Wes swears with cuss words Summary: Prompt from Tumblr: I wish you would write a fic about Danny being a little shit to Vlad by revealing him to Wes. Wes comes over and nearly gets Danny’s half life ended, which leads to further family revelations that leave Danny’s head spinning.

Danny Fenton was having a weird and not particularly pleasant week. His Dad had finally encountered the Box Ghost, who took one look at him and glitched out like a Bethesda character before apparently regaining his memories. Apparently, the Box Ghost was Jason Fenton, older brother of Jack Fenton. The Box Ghost was Danny’s Uncle. That was weird as fuck to discover, especially when he implied that Box Lunch would be a person he’d have to deal with soonish. He was going to have a cousin. His already living cousin, Wes, had decided later that week to ruin Danny’s life by asking him right in front of Jazz and Mom if he still had that giant green dog thing he’d crashed a game with. Danny dragged him up to the third floor of Fentonworks, shoved him into his room, and learned very quickly that Wes had figured out that he was Phantom the moment he focused on him. “Orion, man, you can’t just imply I’m a ghost in front of Mom or Dad!” “Why not?” Wes stared at him like he’d grown a second head - he hadn’t, he knew the sensation - and Danny took a moment to redirect the energy surging to his eyes over his skin and outward. It blanketed the room in a wave and left what Tucker had described as the feeling of touching an old tv and feeling static on your fingers all over the place. Wes rubbed his arm and raised a brow at him. “Wes, tell me what Jack Fenton is going to think if you tell him ‘hey that ghost kid you shoot at all the time is your kid’? Actually, no, how the fuck did you even figure it out?” “You look like you put on your suit and then someone turned on the color inversion filter on their camera. Blue skin, white hair, black and white suit.” Wes paused and poked Danny’s cheek, looking him in the eye. “Your eyes should be orange instead of green though if that were the whole case. How’d this happen? Last time I talked to you, you n Tucker were talking about building a motorcycle that could fly.” “The hoverbike has sorta been put on hold, I’ll admit,” Danny grumbled, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He pulled his hands away from his face and Wes was still there, tall and stupid and overly observant. “If I tell you what happened, do you promise not to out me to my parents?” “I-should I treat this like you’re in the closet?” Wes snorted at the idea. “Closeted dead guy. Alright, I can get that. But uh, if you’re dead, why are you still…” he wiggled his hand and then gestured at Danny’s room. “In a house with ghost hunters?” “Well, to start with, I’m not actually dead. Not entirely, anyway.” Danny sat down on his bed and Wes followed, and after taking a moment to triple check that Vlad’s bugs weren’t in his room with another wave of energy, Danny told Wes the story of the Accident. It was a short story, but he was slow about it. He’d never really discussed it with anyone, Sam and Tucker just sort of knew better than to bring it up and Jazz probably thought he’d tell her himself in his own time. By the time he finished, Wes looked almost as uncomfortable with the situation as Danny felt. “You know, not to sound like a cheesy 90’s cartoon character but this is why you shouldn’t give in to peer pressure.” Danny snorted and laughed at that, and Wes grinned even when Danny elbowed him. “Ok, so I’m putting together that you did a bunch of dumb shit and found yourself decided to be a superhero. What the fuck was up with the dog, or the mayor getting kidnapped? Your eyes were fuckin red when you stole a bunch of shit that one time too.” “Ok in order of what all happened: Axiom labs euthanized their guard dogs and one of them came looking for his squeaky toy but forgot where it was and no matter how many times I shoved Cujo back into the portal-” “ Cujo ?” Wes snorted and ruffled Danny’s hair. “Have you been reading the stuff Sam gives you or did your emo phase just never really end? You have the emo bangs.” “I do not!” Danny huffed, running a hand through his curly hair that, well, Wes couldn’t really ruin a mess, could he? “You’re the one with actual bangs, sasquatch hunter.” “Acknowledging that Big Foot is real doesn’t mean I’m gonna go and shoot it.” Wes crossed his arms and rested them on Danny’s head. “By the way, any idea when that growth spurt is due?” “Bold words for someone with his shins within targeting range.” “I can and will put you in a headlock Astroboy.” “I can slam dunk you through a hoop like your precious balls.” Wes said nothing to this and simply leaned more onto Danny’s head. “If I snap my neck because of you I’m suing. Anyway no matter how often I yeeted Cujo back into the Ghost Zone-” “I beg of you to call it something cooler. Call it the afterlife even, just. Please.” “He just kept digging his way out. So, I looked at his tag, saw that he came from Axiom, and we ended up in there, while getting shot at by the Red Huntress-” “Valerie, right?” “H-” “She appeared as the Huntress literally the same time the dog shit was happening, and I am getting increasingly worried that no one has noticed that she sounds the same in her Red Huntress suit as she does in the Nasty Burger mascot suit.” Wes dropped his arms to Danny’s shoulder, but still rested his chin in his hair, humming loudly. Danny slid into that spot between and snorted when Wes fell onto the bed. “I can’t tell you how pissed she was that I outed her to her dad about being the Huntress so that she wouldn’t get herself killed fighting Pariah Dark. Pretty sure if you tell her or anyone else about that, she’ll shoot you.” “I mean, it’d probably get her swarmed by so much hostility she stops shooting at you, so that’d be a plus. I’d just come back and bug you anyway.” “You’re a jerk, but I guess you’re alright.” Danny flopped back. “The mayor thing was a ghost, this douche bag prison warden named Walker in the GZ who decided that since I broke out of his prison I owe him over a thousand years and he’d make my home a prison instead.” Wes stared at him, clasped his hands flat against each other, and took a deep breath. “There are so many things wrong in that sentence. Why were you in ghost prison?” “I did ghost crimes.” Wes looked and sounded like he was in some deal of pain, and Danny couldn’t help but grin. “Dad’s anniversary present for Mom fell through the portal while I was cleaning up by shooting things into their proper place,” he covered Wes’ mouth as he opened it, “and so I flew in after it, but it was a ‘real world item’ as though the Ghost Zone is fake somehow, and that was ‘Against The Rules’ according to Walker.” Danny rolled his eyes. “I got the present out and back to Dad but I had to like, get to him at your mom’s place.” “Did you fly all the way from Minnesota to Arkansas for a present?” “Arcturus, no, not with my powers.” Danny laughed, laying back on his bed. “That’d take me like, 8 hours at top speed. No, I used the Speeder.” “Have you modified it to get into space?” “Not yet.” “Do you have permission to mod it for space travel?” “Do I have permission to be dead?” “Touche.” “Anyway, Walker is stronger than me, even when possessing a human, so when all eyes and cameras were on me he possessed the mayor and dragged me back inside to make it look like I was dragging him in. Whole invasion was his idea.” “Danny?” “And then with the robberies when my eyes were red, did you know about Circus Gothica? Cause me and some other ghosts were under the control of the ring master of the circus, Freakshow, who had this freakin crystal ball thing that could control ghosts attached to his staff. It shattered after a very long fall, thank Astrea.” “That’s really fucked up. You’ve had a fucked up life.” “Yeah.” Danny shrugged. “I guess I have.” “Know what’s more fucked up about this?” Wes had a too big grin on his face and Danny narrowed his eyes. “Do you remember my mom’s last name?” “Wal..ker… no. ” The two of them were thundering down the stairs in seconds, Danny half shouting in the livingroom. “ Mom was your dad, by chance, a law enforcement officer, or jail warden or something?” Mom looked up at him from the staff she was tinkering with on the table - note to self, sterilize the table before dinner - and blinked at him a couple of times before smiling and nodding. “Why yes, he did. Warden James Lamont Walker ran the Spittoon prison when he was alive. He was a good man, if a bit strict. To my and Alicia’s fury and grief he was murdered during a prison break.” Mom stared off in the distance, the air around her curling with a dark cold that Danny was sure only he could see. Then she softened up a bit and smiled softly at them. “Why?” “No reason, auntie, I was just curious about something and Danny thought we should ask you.” Wes played with the hem of his shirt while maintaining eye contact and Danny wondered if he had a tell for awkwardness like that. Then he realized he was rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have any pictures of him?” “Oh, yes! They’re in the shed! My boxes are actually labelled.” “Uh oh, careful, Dad might hear of organization and come to tear it up,” Danny said with a laugh, half dragging Wes out the back door. When they were out of his mom’s considerable ear shot, Danny said softly, but with feeling, “Fuck.” “Got locked up by grandpa, huh? That’s like, the worst way to get grounded ever .” Wes snickered and watched Danny run-walk up to the shed, hand glowing so softly you could only see it by staring directly at it as he turned the knob. “There are odds, slim ones, that this is a whole different Walker. It might even be his first name.” “Who the hell names their kid Walker?” “Walter, Wayne and Wesley Weston.” “Alright then.” For a few minutes the two of them searched through the mess known as the Fenton Family Shed for a box with a label neither had thought to ask for. Eventually, they found one labeled Scrapbooks and carefully eased it out of the mess of it all. “Y’knonw, Danny,” Wes said as they opened the box and started flipping through scrapbooks with just enough care not to damage them. “I’m feelin kinda good about investigating a ghost with you. Is this how it is with you n your boyfriend and best friend?” Danny almost tore a page out, turning to stare at Wes. He must’ve felt the temperature drop for a second because he looked up with a raised brow. “What?” “Boyfriend?” “Tucker. Tucker Foley.” Danny’s jaw dropped and Wes’ confusion morphed into a shit eating grin. “You know, Tucker spends most of his time with you Foley? The one you build shit with all the time? The nerd that you get sick in sync with? I’ve seen you lose a pencil and then he puts one behind your ear while you look for the one you lost. You made him a custom gaming computer disguised as a console.” Danny’s face burned red as a tomato at this point and he shoved Wes. “Shut up I’m not dating Tucker!” “I have to ask Jazz about this now, you’re killing me.” Wes snorted and flipped a page. He blinked down at the scrapbook and pointed at a picture. “James Walker. This look anything like him?” Danny took the book and looked at the picture. Looked at the several pictures of the man with his daughters, wearing a black pinstriped suit in a handful of them. And he let out a long, loud groan. “I hate this week, I hate it so much.” Wes started cackling and Danny scowled. “That reminds me.” He kicked Wes in the shins and grinned. “Much better. Also, Wes, I gotta tell you. I’m not one of a kind, as far as my living status goes.” “Oh what, there’s another Schrodinger’s little shit flying around out there?” Wes rubbed his ankle and hissed. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but that fruitloop we call a mayor may have been elected because he possessed literally everyone that was voting.” Wes went silent and stared at him, and Danny nodded. “Think you can pester him instead of me? He wants to kill Dad and thinks that he can get Mom if he does that.” “Danny. My Dad works for Masters.” “This puts you in the perfect position to mess with him, I say. Just act like you’re there to see your dad.” “You oblivious asshole. I fuckin love you, cous.” “Same here, skyscraper.”

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Wes Weston #Jazz Fenton #Maddie Fenton #Walker #james walker #Box Ghost #fanfiction #fanphiction #phanfiction #phanphiction #phanfic #fanfic #fanphic #phanphic #prompt fill #Rexy Writes #Phantom Family AU

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Turned

AO3

...

He didn’t know how long it had been, by the time he came back to himself. He was sore and stiff from being curled up in a ball in the corner in the dark, unable to chase away the lingering memories, the lingering voices that ran through his head, nearly making him curl back up in his hole until he died.

But he was numb, now. He’d cried and panicked himself out, there was no lower he could sink, and it was too dark. Silently, he crept out of the closet, grabbing his backpack on the way out.

He stared at it, the worn fabric, the resewn zippers, the thinned out fabric around the edges. It was the same one he’d used when he’d left the coven. It hurt more, this time. He closed his eyes, hugging the pack tight to his chest, bracing himself, surprised that he had any more tears left to cry.

He’d made himself at home, here. He had photos of himself with the others on a fairy light with clips, illuminating Patton’s smiling face, Logan’s small smile, Roman’s boisterous laugh captured on film. He had shelves of books, fiction and otherwise, some Logan had gotten for him to further his knowledge of mythicals. His drawers, full of clothes, mostly from Roman trying to spruce up his wardrobe, though he was so damn good at getting his tastes right he could never be mad. He somehow managed to find the perfect sarcastic quoted tees for him, and they made him laugh every time Roman presented him with a new one.

He couldn’t take it all with him. So much of it would be left behind, so much of his history with them would be lost, but maybe that was for the better. If he was out on his own again, he didn’t want anything that could lead anyone back to his family. His heart twinged, as he realized he wouldn’t be able to take any of the photos with him. Despite himself, he grabbed the one he’d snapped himself, of Roman, Patton and Logan, Patton in the middle with a stick of cotton candy, Roman pointing with delight at something off screen, Logan sighing, adjusting his glasses fondly.

He set his phone down on the desk, another loss to mourn, but he couldn’t have anyone trace it, trace him. And he had to leave the laptop as well. Gods, this was hard, it was so much harder when he didn’t actually want to leave.

He took a deep breath, shoving the sturdiest of his clothes into the bag, along with his skull headphones and his old school mp3 player. Then he chose a few slim volumes from his shelf, that same book of sigils, his journal, and a small booklet of maps of the area. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to steady himself against the heartbreak. The last thing he put in his bag was the stuffed animal spider Patton had got him a month into his recovery, when he was still bedridden on the couch from his broken bones. Patton was terrified of spiders, but knew they were one of his favorites. He’d woken up to a vase of violet irises, a wrapped box of chocolate chip cookies, the spider plush atop the box with a little, handmade card that read “are you a spider? Cause you’ve caught me in your web!”

He’d named it Webby, in honor of Patton’s favorite ducktales character. Patton had nearly cried at that, and they’d spent the rest of the day together on the couch, binging it. It had some dark moments, for a cartoon, and now they always watched it together.

He pushed back another wave of tears as he patted Webby once, before zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder, opening the door with a final longing glance at his room, creeping down the hall.

…

Patton’s eyes blinked open at the slight shuffle from the hall. At first he didn’t think anything of it, he still wasn’t quite used to his heightened vampire hearing, every little thing, every creak of the house settling sounded loud as thunder, sometimes. But his ears perked when he heard a muffled curse, from the hallway, someone stubbing their toe. Instantly, he was awake and alert, eyes shooting up and locking on Virgil, who was furtively creeping towards the living room. He furrowed his brow at the pack slung over Virgil’s shoulder, and without further hesitation, flicked on the light.

“Virgil?” His quiet voice immediately woke the others, and Virgil froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Patton inhaled sharply. Virgil looked terrible. His hair was slick and matted with sweat, his eyes wide and bags darker than ever, his face pale and breathing ragged. He looked paranoid and on the edge of either passing out or breaking down or both. He looked nearly as bad as he had, if not worse, in the days immediately after the attack. Virgil looked away, flinching, as if burned by Patton’s gaze.

“Kiddo?” He asked again, voice dry, feeling worry clogging his throat at the defeated despondency in Virgil’s eyes, red and puffy.

“hi.” Virgil mumbled in reply, voice hoarse and scratchy, as if he’d been screaming, or crying for hours, and his heart clenched again.

“Virgil… why do you have your backpack?” Roman piped up, and Virgil bit his lip, face hidden in his bangs.

“You were going to leave. You were hoping to avoid us by sneaking out late, not expecting us to be ‘camped out’ in the living room waiting for you.” Logan stated, not unkindly.

“you’re gonna kick me out anyway. I figured this… this would be easier. Less… less messy.” His voice is strangled and choked, clutching the straps of his bag, trying to control his breathing.

“Why would we kick you out, our stormy knight?” Roman asked softly, and Virgil bit back a sharp sob.

“it’s f-fine. I wouldn’t want me h-here either. I-“ He broke off, inhaling sharply as his voice broke. “I w-wouldn’t trust myself, either.” That was enough for Patton. He stood, walking slowly to Virgil, gentle as he tipped his chin up, to meet his eyes.

“I trust you, Virg.” Virgil shook his head, taking a stumbling step back, back against the wall of the living room as he shook his head.

“You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, you wouldn’t if you knew-“ He broke off, a sob clawing its way out of his throat. He didn’t fight Patton this time, as he pulled him into a gentle hug, burying his face against his shoulder, letting his bag drop to the ground as Patton pulled him closer, nestling his own head atop his, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I d-didn’t know better, I d-didn’t think, I didn’t w-want to, but I c-couldn’t keep going, I just br-broke, I hurt so many people, pat, I k-killed so many people because I thought it was r-right!”

“Shhh, I know, I know, honey.” He soothed, swaying gently.

“You don’t though. B-before I left, before I thought for myself, Pat, if I had met you then, I would have killed you. Nothing would have mattered, except you being a vampire. I w-wouldn’t have thought twice. Remy, and J-anus, gods, Janus, he wouldn’t even give you a chance.”

“virgil. I know. I read the stories, about all three of you. We heard the rumors and the reports and the deaths. That doesn’t make me love you any less. It doesn’t make me trust you any less. You haven’t given me a single reason to doubt you.” Virgil let out another sob at that, Patton barely managing to catch him as his legs buckled under him, probably from a combination of fear, relief, and exhaustion. Instantly, Roman was at Virgil’s side, hugging him as well, and Virgil clung to the two of them like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you and then I was too scared cause you all were so nice and I didn’t want to be alone again, so I just tried to forget it ever happened, and of course it can’t just go away, and I always do this, I always drag us into trouble, I’m never good enough to protect you.”

“falsehood. You are enough, Virgil. You always have been. You’ve seen through traps and predicted dangers none of us would have seen coming. You’ve saved all of our lives several times over. It does not change what you did in the past, but what you did in the past does not change you to us.” Logan added softly, resting a supportive hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough. No one will ever love me. I’m not worthy of it. I’m not… I’m a danger and a problem and that’s all… that’s all I’ll ever be.” Patton hissed at the tired, dead tone in Virgil’s voice, anger flaring to life as his eyes flashed red.

“Who told you that, honey? I promise, they’re about to get a face full of angry papa patton!” Virgil looked up at him with those defeated, dark eyes, and he wondered how coherent Virgil really was, if he even really knew what was happening anymore, through his exhausted haze.

“janus. W-who else would w-ant me? It’s f-funny, he lies a-about everything, but he was r-right about that.” Virgil slurred, then his eyes slipped shut and he slumped against Patton, unconscious. Patton pulled Virgil into his lap, gently stroking his hair, eyes blurring with tears as he tried to find his own voice.

“he needs rest. He’s worn himself out, both physically and emotionally. He’ll probably be out of sorts when he wakes, as his brain shut down in order to allow him to recover as he needs.” Logan said softly, his own voice wavering slightly. Patton nodded, lifting Virgil and settling on the couch with his head in his lap. He tucked a blanket around him, teasing his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Here.” Roman murmured, tucking Webby underneath Virgil’s arm, smiling smally as Virgil shifted with a small noise, clinging to the spider and pulling it close to his chest.

“he was gonna take Webby?” Patton asked, voice trembling.

“yeah. One photo of us, too. From the carnival. No phone, no way we would be able to contact or find him.” Roman answered, placing the photo carefully on the coffee table. Logan huffed fondly, looking at it.

“What were you pointing at, Roman?” He asked.

“There was a bouncy house obstacle course being blown up. We raced, and I almost got stuck in one of the tube tunnels, and Roman had to jump to my side to help pull me out.” Patton answered, laughter in his voice.

“Yes, and then you and finding emo wouldn’t race me!”

“Well, that seems a sensible descicion. I do seem to remember Patton coaxing all of us onto the pony rides, however.” Logan, a smile on his face.

“Ah, yes, Georgia! My valiant steed!” Roman exclaimed. “I follow them on facebook, she’s a mother now! An adorable little spotted filly.” Patton awed, and even Logan chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Virg was so good with the animals, remember? He practically had the entire petting zoo surrounding him, even after he ran out of food. All the baby goats were sleeping on his lap. I’ve got that picture around here somewhere, too, it was so cute!”

“I still think we should get him a pet.” Roman grumbled.

“We have talked about this, Roman.”

“What? Animals help with anxiety! Besides, I happen to know a pony…”

…

It was dark. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it was dark. Flashes of movement out of the corner of his eyes, shadows flickering just out of sight. His mind felt slow, blurred, and dimly, he realized he was in restraints, chained to the wall. He pulled, hissing in pain as a sharp, steel collar bit into his neck, feeling warm blood trickle from the small puncture wounds.

“Well, well, aren’t you just tempting me?” He flinched, a figure suddenly appearing before him with a slight whoosh of air, rough hands grabbing his chin and pulling him forwards. He hissed again as the collar dug into his throat, glaring as his gaze met those neon green, almost glowing eyes of his captor. “You certainly are a sweet little morsel. It would be a pleasure to drain you dry.” The vampire purred, and he shuddered as he felt the vampire’s tongue run up his neck, before he lightly nipped beneath his ear. He jerked back, but the vampire’s hand was firm, and he chuckled as he pulled away, examining his face. “So pretty, too. It’ll be such a shame when I finally kill you. But such a pleasure.”

“What do you want?” He spits, trying to clear his head, trying to spark fire to life in his hands, light that will burn this abomination off the face of the earth, but he can’t do anything, his magic is being blocked, by the manacles around his wrists, no doubt.

“I know you are.” He froze at those words, eyes narrowing.

“I’m no one. Just a self taught magician. I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” The lie rolls off easily, and anyone else might have bought it. But this vampire just laughed, head thrown back, wild cackles piercing the air.

“Oh, that’s a good try, pet. But no, you aren’t. You’re Deceit. You’re one third of the trifecta keeping me and my kin from ruling over you pathetic mortals.” He snarled, eyes flashing.

“You won’t get anything out of me.”

“I don’t need to. My coven members are following your sneaky little friend, Sleep, or should I say Remy? And any moment he’s going to lead right where we need to be.” He bites his tongue, fear eating him inside out.

“You don’t need to keep looking. Anxiety is dead.” He said, truthfully this time, in a way, Anxiety was dead, had died the moment he left. “He’s not a threat to you.” He won’t drag Virgil into this, he can’t let that happen. Virgil may hate him, but he’d always respected Virgil’s choice to leave. He’d stayed away, kept Remy away, even when he so desperately just wanted to see his face, to see how he’d grown up, and he would not let this vampire steal whatever peace Virgil had found away from him.

“I think we both know that’s not quite true. I’ve done my research, see. Oh, there’s plenty of beings who claim to have done the deed, but none have the proof to back it up. He’s still out there, and I won’t have him ruining things to try and save his little boy toy.”

“He won’t! He doesn’t care, anymore, he won’t come for me, he won’t get in the way!” He shouts, hands clenched into fists, oh, if he had his magic right now this man would be struck down with all the force of a hurricane. As it is, he can only watch with a plummeting heart as the vampire grins, sharp canines showing, as he steps away.

“I don’t believe you. And even if I did, how could I pass up a chance to get the full set? You three would make quite a collection. So much fun to play with. I think I’ll start with your little Virgil first. Seems like you have a soft spot for him.”

No. NO, the vampire had already known, had already found him, probably had his coven members at the house already, and he cursed Remy’s stupid predictability, his stupid sense of loyalty, he should have cut his losses and ran, not tried to get involved.

His screams echo down the hallway as he pleads and begs and curses, pulling at his restraints, heedless of the blood dripping down his neck, the sores opening on his wrists, he screams his throat raw until he has nothing left, and slumps against the wall, defeated.

“virgil. Please. Please hear me, please listen, please just run, just run” He whispers, tugging at the weak, tenuous strand connecting himself to Virgil, praying it’s enough, any of it, is enough to give him some warning. “I’m sorry.”

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fmdminheearchive · 3 years

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hello everyone! finals + anxiety are totally beating my ass right now, but i still want to do some stuff for the event!! so, this post is a plot call!! i’m going to describe what my three kids’ll be up to during the event/some thread ideas, and if you see anything in particular you’d like to snatch up, just let me know via dms or replies! and if you’d like me to come to you, please hit the like button! i know i’ve been slacking on plotting with new people over the last couple of weeks, but i’d love to, so :pleading_face: maybe this event is a good spot to start. also, if you want my d!scord, hmu for it! i find it a little easier to reply on there through my anxiety.

minhee

minhee is so pleased about this whole thing!! she hate hate hates her mother’s stupid christmas and new year events, but this year! she won’t even be in seoul!! suck on that, mom! a little sad that she won’t be with mouse because she got her a really cute cat christmas present stocking ):

dec 25th: concert day! minhee is excited for it. she always loves concerts!! excited to be performing little touch. not much else to say here, but come hang out with her backstage!

dec 26th: minhee needs a roommate so! if your muse is looking for a roommate who probably won’t be spending that much time in the suite, then minhee is your gal!

her randomized drawn card was yellow!! dance machine minhee is in her element! genuinely just there to enjoy herself and do some dancing! flash mobs are meant to be fun, right?

during the afternoon, she’ll probably hit up the italian restaurant, and then head off for a spa day, to be finished off soaking in a hot tub!! someone please join her <3

holiday ball!! she’s excited to go to an event like this with co-workers and friends instead of her parents and their high society frenemies. someone come drink and decorate cookies with her, it’ll be so fun, i promise!!

dec 27th: she’ll probably spend her free day in the pool and the hot tubs again, and eat at the korean / american bbq grill restaurant! after docking, she’ll definitely be going out to visit taipei! she’ll do some shopping, drop her bags off at her suite, and then head back out to take in some nightlife. if anyone’s muses are interested in partying with minhee during their free night, hmu!

dec 28th: today.... will be minhee’s own personal hell. she drew the red card, which means she’s going to... have ... she’s... going to... have to cook. on top of that, she’ll probably be hungover too. somebody please help her and stick her on like washing up duty or something.

she’ll be back to her regular self by the time they’re backstage at the concert again though, don’t worry!

dec 29th: on the 29th, minhee is gonna treat herself to an all she can eat meal at the sushi restaurant! but otherwise, today she’s just going to be exploring all the different parts of the ship she hasn’t been to yet so there’s nothing there!!

dec 30th: she drew blue, finally! minhee is always down for more spa time. i think she’ll go for the free mani-pedi, so if anyone wants to chat shit with minhee over getting their nails done, now is your chance!

her free time this evening will be spent... in the bar again, but also in the game room maybe!! she’s shitty at card games and always tries to cheat, so if anyone wants to hang out or tell her off for cheating, come on downnn.

dec 31st: concert will go well, as per usual!!

new year’s party!! minhee will be very drunk ringing in the new year, v excited for the fireworks, and probably in search of someone to kith at midnight.

jan 1st: luckily, lipstick’s fansign isn’t until the afternoon, and... that’s the first time anyone will see minhee that day. she’ll be sleeping off the results of the previous night for as long as she can get away with. lipstick members, fuse members and gal.actic members, i’m sorry for her crankiness already.

eunah

the christmas season this year is a pretty big deal for eunah, even though she’ll be spending it like this. it marks the one year anniversary of her starting to get help for her eating disorder, so she’ll probably be in a kind of funny mood as she thinks back on the year and how far she’s come.

dec 25th: excited for the concert, especially since 7rophy’s set is over pretty early in the show. she’s hoping to just relax backstage for the rest of the show.

dec 26th: eunah’s going to room with lux because... why wouldn’t she. her having a roommate doesn’t really matter too much though because she’ll just sleep, wake up, leave for the day, repeat. she won’t be spending any time in the room anyways.

she drew red for her card for the 26th!! eunah actually likes decorating, so she’ll probably be enjoying herself well enough. unfortunately she’s tiny so if anyone tall would please help her reach some stuff, that would be much appreciated.

she probably won’t spend the whole time at the holiday ball!! she’ll mingle around for a couple of hours and then dip out to rack up charges on her bill as she sets about calling her family back home.

dec 27th: i think eunah’s going to spend the 27th curled up in the library for the most part!! she’ll probably duck out to go for sushi if anyone wants to join her, but mostly she’s just going to relax, read, and maybe work on some lyrics.

she’ll probably head out to taipei during the evening though to do some light shopping, but that’s about it there! (unless anyone wants to drag her along to anything.)

dec 28th: on the 28th, eunah is very happy that she hardly bought anything the prior evening, because she drew the blue card! she does really love shopping, so someone come with eunah for a treat yourself moment!

same as the previous concert, she’ll get 7rophy’s set out of the way and spend the rest of the time relaxing.

dec 29th: eunah will be spending the 29th moving between the library, the games room, the observation lounge, and, of course, the sushi restaurant. just a chill day!! maybe she’ll go to the spa for a massage, if anyone would like to join her. she’s always apprehensive going for one, but they help her a lot.

dec 30th: eunah drew red, so that means she’ll be cleaning! she’s surprisingly hardy when it comes to cleaning, so she won’t be shying away from anything. maybe she’ll convince your muse to scrub a bit harder? or... once again... she’ll probably need help reaching some shit.

dec 31st: you guys know her concert routine by now.

i think!! eunah will actually allow herself to have some fun and get drunk at the new year’s party! she’s a big lightweight, so it won’t take much. does anyone wanna come to the theatre with her?? preferably any other musical kid?? so they can drunkenly sing theatre duets together!!

jan 1st: she’ll put on her best smile for 7rophy’s fan sign, but she’ll probably not be in the most... energetic mood. or whatever eunah’s version of energetic is. she’ll be amicable though, as per usual!! wish, 7rophy or silhouette members please come get a coffee with her while they’re waiting around.

dowoon

dowoon is pretty neutral about the whole thing!! as per usual, he’s just vibing. he doesn’t really care about christmas. can’t help but cringe at some of the spectacle people get up to when it comes to like extreme amounts of lights, so he’s happy enough to be somewhere that at least feels like it has a right to be decorated.

dec 25th: dowoon will put his best foot forward at the concert, like he always does! after charm’s set, you can probably find him facetiming his dog.

dec 26th: dowoon is rooming with yeonggi because they are bffs!! stan dogi <3

after that dowoon is headed to the pool, courtesy of the blue card he drew! kinda wishes he drew yellow instead but he likes swimming well enough, and will probably enjoy playing games!! someone come race in the pool w/ him maybe.

he’s honestly most excited to try all the different restaurants, and will be starting with the french fine dining one because he thinks he’ll like it the least.

doesn’t really care much about the holiday ball, but a party’s a party, he supposes, so whatever.

dec 27th: today dowoon is checking out the sushi restaurant!!

aside from that, he’s just relaxing in his suite LOL

will go out to get something to eat and maybe a couple of drinks in taipei in the evening though, if anyone wants to join him.

dec 28th: dowoon drew blue again!! he’s not big into shopping for himself (at all), so i think he’s going to use the money to pick out some nice gifts for his parents and his dog, and maybe something small for himself.

then it’s concert time! dowoon does his dance, he’s great, that’s all there is to know.

dec 29th: the next restaurant on dowoon’s list is the italian place!! again looking for a food critic partner in crime xoxo

otherwise, dowoon will probably just be vibing in various places around the ship. god, he is so boring.

dec 30th: dowoon drew yellow, and he’ll be sneaking off to join the red team to clean! he’s a decent actor and is known to work by himself a lot, so i don’t think he’ll be that suspicious.

last restaurant today!! the korean and american bbq grill. he left it for last because he knew he was guaranteed to enjoy it.

dec 31st: concert. hit hit hit hit sound.

new year’s party!! omg i am opening the floor to something inch resting if anyone has even read this far........ who wants to kith at midnight? but like not in the fun minhee way, maybe in a kind of emo we drank together for the last couple of hours on the observatory deck way and now we are kissing because it’s the new year. but like also dowoon does not like to Feel so he’ll probably be like “bye” and just fucking leave right after. nice one bro this is why you don’t get any.

jan 1st: dowoon holds his alcohol pretty well, so he’ll be fine for the fan sign, but if any of the members from charm, origin or mars need a pick me up, he doesn’t mind giving them some painkillers or whatever.

#guys this is 10 years long i am so sorry but!!! plots pls <3 #fmdcall #alcohol tw #just?? mentions of my kids drinking on new years #edit: and now i have to go do my makeup omfg i'm running late but i wanted to get this out!!!

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trashyswitch · 4 years

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Tied to the Trends

Logan starts collecting ties with patterns, sayings and references on them. One day, Logan wears a certain-patterned tie for nostalgic purposes...Let's just say he should've seen it coming...

Sorry this one is so short...I didn’t realize that at first...Either way, hope you enjoy!

Patton couldn't help but notice something: Logan has been wearing tons of different ties. It's kinda funny, to be honest. It all started on the start of Pride month, when Logan wore a rainbow tie the entire month! Thomas absolutely loved his spirit!

What everyone DIDN'T expect, was Logan's commitment to different ties. Where he got them? No one could figure it out! All they knew, was that every tie Logan wore, told a visual story of his mood.

There's been lots of patterned ties. There was the Pi-dotted tie [which had the Pi symbol dotted all over it], a galaxy tie, a brain tie [literally a tie covered in outlines of the brain], and a periodic table tie!

There was also the strange, but funny ties! A hot dog tie, a minecraft-style blue tie, a POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tie (Everyone pretended to avoid him that day), a Weed leaf tie (Yes...he really wore this...), and get this: A tie, covered in multiple layers of Shrek's face!

Patton's favorites so far, were the pun ties and the animal ties! Logan wore a dog paw tie, a cat tie (Patton SQUEALED at this one!), a duck tie (Roman laughed at that one), a penguin-patterned tie, and a tie with Llamas wearing glasses! He also wore a tie that said: I'M SO GAY I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT. There was one day when Logan wore a tie that stated: CAT PUNS FREAK MEOWT (Patton proudly announced "YOU'RE WEARING A DAD JOKE!" that day). And that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg!

To top it all off, was the moment Logan went public for his new hobby. That day, during a Sanders Sides video, he proudly changed his tie to reply to something. Logan, who as tired of hearing Roman's statement, rose up from the mind palace wearing a blue tie that said: OKAY BOOMER on it. Everyone bursted out laughing at that, especially Thomas, who had no idea this was happening!

During the video, Virgil felt the need to make that same joke as well! So, he appeared with the exact same tie, on top of his hoodie. Logan laughed and appreciated the participation, but soon looked down and realized he was missing his tie! Turns out, Virgil stole his tie mid-video, and used it solely to bring back the joke! Logan started fighting the emo to get his precious tie back, but Virgil was very resistant! This soon created an unnecessary (but definitely humorous) chase scene between an impatient Logic and a mischievous Anxiety.

By now, everyone in the mind palace was well accustomed to Logan's new hobby. They would always look down at his tie, to see what new decorated piece of narrow fabric he was wearing that day.

One morning, Logan had woken up and put on a yellow, decorated tie. He had felt the need to wear something nostalgic (pre-school nostalgic, to be specific), and wanted to express that using his new hobby. The tie had Elmo from Sesame Street dotted all over it. Logan smiled at his outfit, before he left his room.

Logan walked out to the kitchen, where Patton was making waffles. "Good morning Logan!" Patton cheered as he removed the waffles from the toaster with a butter knife.

"Good morning Patton." Logan replied. Patton placed the waffles and the table syrup near Logan, and put more waffles into the toaster. "Thank you." Logan muttered. After putting some syrup on his waffles, he began cutting his waffles.

Unexpectedly, Patton came up behind him, and placed an apron over top of Logan. "Didn't want you getting syrup all over that outfit of yours." Patton explained as he tied the neck ribbon into a bow in the back.

"Thank you Patton." Logan replied. Patton smiled as he tied the waist ribbon into a knot onto Logan's back. Patton walked away, and looked up at the sound of the toaster lever jumping up. The waffles were ready. Patton grabbed the waffles out of the toaster with the butter knife, and placed them onto a plate. Then, he grabbed and spread some butter all over them, before sitting down beside Logan.

"How did you sleep?" Patton asked.

"I slept decent." Logan replied. Patton looked at his tie.

"I like your elmo tie." Patton whispered.

Logan smiled. "Thank you." he replied. Patton had looked at the tie, and noticed something about it: Along with Elmo dotted all over it, it also had the words; TICKLE ME littered in between the Elmo dots. This made Patton very curious. Did Logan know that his tie said that? Surely, he must've noticed. Patton attempted to hide it, but the father figure was growing mischievous. If Logan was gonna wear a tie that told the reader to tickle him, then he should've gotten himself ready for some tickles.

After what felt like a long 5-10 minutes of eating, Logan picked his now empty plate, and washed it in the sink. While he was there, Patton happily and quietly, snuck up behind him and squeezed his hands on Logan's sides.

Logan let out a yelp of surprise, and turned around. The first thing Logan couldn't help but notice about Patton, was his smug little grin.

"I couldn't help but notice...your tie." Patton told him. Logan was confused at first. What was wrong with it? "Do you not see it?" Patton asked.

"See what?" Logan asked back to Patton.

"What your tie says!" Patton replied, as if it was obvious. Patton picked up the tie. "It has TICKLE ME written all over it!" Patton explained.

"It's actually supposed to be Tickle Me Elmo*: The Elmo product that's been a fad for a couple decades..." Logan explained.

Patton gasped and lightly patted Logan's shoulder. "Do you remember Thomas's tickle me Elmo? The adorable little fluff ball of red that used to laugh and giggle when we-" Patton stated, before wiggling his fingers on Logan's stomach, and finishing by saying: "tickled its tummy?". Logan yelped and curled in slightly, as he tried to stop a wobbly smile from showing up on his face.

"Yehehes...I do remember that..." Logan replied, accidentally letting out a few giggles.

"You know...I wonder where that tickle toy went? I miss it sometimes. I wonder if it's still in Thomas's parents' house?" Patton wondered.

"I...couldn't tell you, Patton." Logan said amidst the conversation.

"Or..." Patton thought, turning his head slowly towards Logan. "Perhaps I don't need a tickle toy..." Patton thought aloud as his mischievous grin grew. Logan's eyes widened as he contemplated what to do. "Perhaps..." Patton continued, using his pauses to create tension. "I have a tickle toy, right here?" Patton suggested to himself as he reached out and grabbed Logan's shoulders with his hands. Logan was stuck. If he didn't have a chance to get out before, he certainly has no chance now...Patton's tickle toy is now in his loving and caring grasp, whether he liked it or not...

Logan gulped. That was all he could do, before being lifted up. Patton had picked up Logan and dragged him over to the living room. Patton, filled with excitement, plopped Logan onto the couch and started tickling his tummy with his wild fingers.

"Pahahahattohohon! Ihihihi'm nahahat aha tihihihickle tohohohoy!" Logan argued.

Patton gasped and put a finger on his chin. "You're right!" Patton declared. The childish father jumped up onto the couch, and sat himself onto Logan's waist. "You're MY tickle toy." Patton announced with a wink. Patton gave Logan's nose a little *Boop*, before going back to his tickle attack.

"Cohohohome ohohohohon!" Logan begged through his giggles.

"Come on? Come on, harder? Okay! I'll go harder!" Patton teased before covering Logan's tummy and sides with endless squeezes. Logan's laughter grew even louder! belly Squeezes were much more ticklish than just the wiggly fingers!

"PAHAHAHAHATTOHOHOHON! STAHAHAHAP! STOPSTOPSTOP PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Logan pleaded through his laughter. Patton took pity on the poor man, and removed his hands.

"Too much fo' my pwecious Logan?" Patton asked in a baby voice. Logan was about to reply with something, before being stopped by the pressure of Patton's head and arms resting on his tummy.

"I can't help but notice you're being incredibly...childish today. Nostalgia?" Logan observed.

"Yeah..." Patton started to reply, before drawing on Logan's tummy with his finger. "I'm in a good mood today. I'm in the mood to be cuddled and played with." Patton explained. Logan nodded in understanding, and began to remove his tie.

"Are you in the mood..." Logan started asking as he lifted the tie over his head. As he reached the knotted tie around Patton's head, Logan continued. "...to be tickled as well?" Logan asked, before tightening the tie around Patton's light blue collar. Patton looked down curiously, as he saw the Tickle me Elmo* tie wrapped around his neck. Upon realizing this, Patton's face grew a light hue of red as he scrunched his shoulders in embarrassment.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahh...I am..." Patton confessed in a slightly slurred voice.

"Well in that case..." Logan started as he thought of a plan. "Since I dawn the color blue and you didn't take the idea yet..." Logan said, pausing for a moment. "I'm going to become the cookie monster! And YOU-" Logan stated, placing his pointed finger on Patton's chest. "-Shall be my cookie!" Logan suggested before lifting himself up to dominate Patton. Now, Patton was lying on the couch, and Logan (the cookie monster) was sitting on Patton's legs.

"SNACK TIME!" Logan shouted in a cookie monster imitation. Suddenly, Logan shoved his face into Patton's tummy, and started making nom-nom sounds as he aggressively nibbled on Patton's tummy.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! LOHOHOHOHOGAHAHAHAN!" Patton laughed gleefully.

"Who's Logan? The only monster here is the COOKIE MONSTER!" Logan teased in the gruffly Cookie Monster voice.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE! DOHOHOHON’T EHEHEHEHEAT MEHEHEHEHE!” Patton begged. Logan finished his nibbling for a few seconds, so he could crawl up to Patton’s rib cage.

Logan lifted up Patton’s shirt. “Cookie monster is still hungry!” Logan declared in his Cookie Monster voice, before aggressively eating Patton’s ribs.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! COHOHOHOOKIHIHIE MOHOHOHONSTEHEHER!” Patton laughed hysterically.

Logan stopped and gasped.

“Me cookie TALKS?” Logan asked in the iconic voice.

“Yehehehes! Ihihihit tihihihihickles tohohohohoo muhuhuhuch.” Patton told Logan.

“Are you ready for letter of day?” Logan asked him like Cookie Monster.

Patton giggled as he nodded eagerly.

Okay. Just need me second...” Logan muttered as he pretended to reach his hand into a cookie jar. He pretended to struggle for the cookies, which made Patton giggle and clap his hands like a child.

“GOTCHA!” Logan declared loudly, before pulling out an imaginary cookie. “You know what THAT look like?” Logan asked. Patton shook his head eagerly, recognizing that he couldn’t see the cookie, let alone the letter. “That look like letter T!” Logan declared. Patton gasped and clapped his hands again. “What’s that? Hm?” Logan continued, bringing his ear up to Patton’s head. “T-T-T” Patton said in his ear.

Logan nodded. “It sounds like letter T...” Logan muttered, before bring his nose up to Patton’s ear and sniffing it. Patton giggled and laughed as Logan’s nose tickled his ear. “It SMELLS like letter T...” Logan continued. “Let’s see if cookie TASTE like letter T!” Logan suggested.

Patton gasped and watched as Logan snuck up behind him, and hugged him from behind! Patton happily took the hug, but also anticipated the tickles as well. Sure enough, Logan delivered. He placed his lips onto Patton’s neck and blew a BIG raspberry!

“NAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Patton bursted out. To top it all off, Logan decided to start aggressively eating Patton’s exposed neck!

“OM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM! OM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM! I could gobble you up!” Logan teased in his gruffly Cookie Monster voice.

Patton was cackling for what felt like an eternity! It was so tickly and playful! This was 10x better than a tickle me Elmo! Who needs a Tickle Me Elmo, when you have a nerdy Cookie Monster to gobble you all up?

It didn’t take long for Patton to start getting payback. Soon, there was a big tickle fight between Patton and Logan! Logan was the best at imitating the TV characters, while Patton was the best at teasing in general! Eventually, the 2 sides could be seen cuddling each other on the floor.

Roman, who eventually found them, was the one who took the time to drape a blanket overtop of them.

#ticklefic #tooth-rotting fluff #switch!patton #switch!logan #funny

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abalovesfic · 4 years

Text

The Demon, The Exorcist, and the Memory Chapter 1

We all do stupid things. And sometimes that stupid thing is posting an entire 47k fic at once... which then actually lowers people’s ability to see it because you aren’t posting on a schedule. A lot of my readership comes from Tumblr and I really, really need it. So why can’t I cross post already completed chapters? Leave your comments, hits, and blood offerings at AO3. Help me fix the mistakes I made against my baby! @transcendence-au ---------- Dipper looked into the cup of hot chocolate, his reflection cast back into the dark brown slurry. He looked the same as always, gold irises piercing back at him. Same sharp teeth and dramatic wings. Even after all these years, he never truly managed to change. “So what exactly do you do on your 5013th birthday? I think I’m a little too old for parties,” he said.

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed a handful of marshmallows and forced them down into her cup, followed by three candy canes and a thick pulse of fluffy whipped cream. “You’re never too old for cake and presents. Don’t you have friends to hang out with?”

“Yes, but I’ve never told them when my birthday was. Sorta ruins the whole immortal demon thing I’ve got going on,” he muttered, tapping his claws against the side of the mug. “The only person who I’d even tell is Mizar.”

She chugged some of the hot chocolate, pulling the cup away to reveal a chocolatey brown mustache over her upper lip. “You should tell her. I think she’d like to celebrate with you: this is the big 5-0-1-3.”

Dipper laughed at her, just for a moment, watching as she tried to lick the chocolate away. “I’ve only found Fang a few weeks ago. We’re still adjusting to each other, you know? Fang and I haven’t really clicked yet. She’s been… difficult.”

Grabbing a napkin from the table, she rubbed the chocolate from her face. “Well it sounds like this could be a bonding moment for you and Fang.” She paused and chewed on a strand of her dark hair in thought. “I know it’s not easy going through this every few hundred years… but she is Mizar. A lot of things change between incarnations, but your connection doesn’t. So go grab a couple cupcakes and go visit her. I promise, she’ll see right through that scary demon exterior to your soft squishy core.” Reaching over, she bopped him on the nose with one finger.

Knocking her hand away, he laughed. “Cut it out.”

“Nope.” She bopped her finger against his nose again.

Dipper’s grin faded just as quickly as it arrived. Something sorrowful creeped over him. “And what would you want to do, for the big 5-0-1-3? After all,” he looked at her, the soft curls of her dark hair caressing her face, how her eyes looked so bright and awestruck. “It is your birthday too, Mabel.”

Mabel’s smile changed. What was once joyous turned to a thoughtful and sad glaze across her face. “Oh, Dipper.” Mabel wrapped one hand around his. Everything about her was intense, down to the texture of her fingerprints. He could smell the combination of perfume and hot glue on her skin, count the stands in her wool sweater, see every freckle on her nose. “I’m not really Mabel, I’m just a representation of her.”

“I know,” his voice broke, on the verge of a grief filled rage. “You don’t have to remind me every single time. At least pretend or something.”

His memory of her was perfect, concocted of every thought, every word ever spoken by or about her. The most precise image of his sister he could muster. She appeared in her late 20’s, soft bags under her eyes from the exhaustion of raising triplets, but also vibrant and full of life. Every time he came to see her, she wore a new sweater every time he saw her, generated from one of his memories. This one happened to be her pink birthday sweater, the one she initially planned to wear for their 13th birthday 5,000 years ago.

After a while it had gotten too hard. He had Mizar. Every moment with each incarnation was a new adventure. But it didn’t change the fact that there was only one Mizar he wanted to talk to. Only one Mizar who knew him for who he truly was. But the only place she still existed was in his own mind. And, after all, he controlled the mindscape. So who was to say he couldn’t rebuild her from his own memories?

Mabel slipped her hand up to his cheek and tried to force his gaze on to hers. “I know you don’t want to celebrate because you miss her. But she would want you to. I want you to.”

“But I want y̸̛͖̤̲̟o̶͛͐ͅu̸̡̝̪͕͂͗̂͠ ,” Dipper said, unaware of the snarl carving in his voice. “Don’t you get it? I’m so tired of going through this over and over again. I want m̷̱̑ͅy̷̝̤̥͕̐͛ ̷͉͖̞̕s̷̭̓̓ḯ̷̘̘̲̾̍s̷̖͑t̸̛͔͈̰̔͜ȩ̶̭͚͔̀̓̍̚r̷̡͚̜̪͒̋͝.̷͍̞̝̓̀͜.”

“Hey, snap out of it. Listen to me for a moment.” She had that big goofy grin he adored. “If Mabel had stayed with you all these years, you would have missed so much. Belle, Maddie, Marcia, Lane: all of my incarnations have loved you so much and you loved them. The universe is like a big sweater, sometimes you have to get a new ball of yarn. And now you have Fang as your new ball of yarn!”

He sighed, “Fang is a little scared of me, I think.” He shook his head, “Actually, I know she is. She doesn’t trust me yet.”

“Duh I’m Dipper,” Mabel did her best mocking interpretation. “I’m socially awkward and emotionally isolated. I have a hard time making connections with people and I use being a demon as an excuse.”

“I do not!” he retorted.

“Do too!” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Bro, you have to show her who you are. Being Alcor the Dreambender isn’t gonna cut it. You have to show her Dipper, the dorky nerd who plays card games and reads the same book 5 times just to make sure he picked up on all the details. She’ll be scared if all you let her see are the dark and violent parts of what’s happened to you.”

He stared back down at his reflection in the hot chocolate, haunting, dark, and eternal. “I’m starting to forget who Dipper is. It’s been so long.”

“Then let me remind you. Dipper Pines is the most loving person in the world. He’d do anything for the people he loves, including follow their soul around for eternity. He’s been a little broken down over the years, but it’s never stopped him from trying. I know this is hard. But you’ve never given up before. Don’t start now.”

His smile was faint, “Thanks, Mabes. You always know what to say.”

Leaning back, she crossed her arms and gave him a smug grin. “Yup. I’m a genius. Now go have a birthday party with Fang. Let her know that this is a special occasion and you want to share it with her .”

“I will.” Standing up, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

“Wait!” She cried. He turned around. She pointed at his still full cup of hot chocolate. “Are you gonna drink that?”

“It’s all yours,” he chuckled and walked out of the Mindscape.

------

Fang sat on her bed, her usual clambering and shrieking emo/punk music vibrating through her bedroom. The array of all black clothing consumed her. The sleeves were torn away from her shirt leaving nothing but fringe and the muscled curve of her arms. She had her hair pulled into the signature, stumpy pigtails atop her head. She wasn’t paying attention, as usual, chewing on a piece of bubble gum and staring into her MagiOrb. The image appeared backwards through the holoscreen, though he could tell she was looking at a news article about the unfortunate dismembering of a child-sacrificing cult this morning, having been found with their organs separated from their bodies. Fang was nosey, that was for sure. Dipper sucked in a breath, trying to push down his nerves. He positioned himself at the back of the bedroom and rapped his knuckles against the wall 3 times to get her attention.

At first she was startled, obviously she was. He had surprised her and she was still getting used to him. Not just the way he looked or the faint terror that radiated from him, but the fact that he had become tangible. No longer a myth or a legend, but someone real.

“Oh uhm… hey?” she said, unsure what to make of his unannounced presence. Scrambling, she turned off the MagiOrb and tucked it beneath her pillow, as if to hide what she was looking at.

“Sorry, I know it’s not one of our pre-planned meeting times, but I wanted to see you today,” he said, still standing awkwardly at the back of the room. Unlike past Mizars, he had agreed not to blip in and out of her life at random. They made a schedule of days and times she was willing to meet with him, all of those meetings lasting no more than an hour, and she could send him away without question. He had also agreed not to approach her without permission. So he stood off in the far corner of the room waiting for her to motion him closer.

Fang gave him a confused but cautious glance. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. It’s all good. Today is just kind of an important day for me and I wanted to spend it with you.”

Her shoulders hunched forward with curiosity. “What’s today?”

“It’s sort of my 5,013th birthday.” He gave a mild smile and nervous jazz hands, confetti spurting from his fingers and then disappearing.

“Oh.” She blinked her dark eyes a few times, lashes thick with clumpy mascara. “I guess I hadn’t considered that you would even have a birthday. Let alone that you would celebrate it every year.” She pressed her lips together, sitting in an uncomfortable thought.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I realize I just sort of popped in here and dropped this birthday thing on you. That’s weird. Like you said, demons don’t really have birthdays.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, a genuine sympathy curling into her voice. “No it's okay. I wish I had known, I would have gotten you a present or something. Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Really, it’s okay.”

He watched her inch closer, shuffling herself across the bed, wrinkling the blankets as she moved. “What sort of things do you like anyway? Beyond murder and eating souls?”

“Very funny,” he replied, a sarcastic spit to his tone. “But seriously, I do enjoy things outside of eating the occasional soul.” But then he softened for a moment to think about it. Mabel had told him to show Fang who he really was. He supposed this would be the way to do it. “For example: I like the top 40’s pop hits. And I love role playing games; the ones from the old days when you had dice and graph paper. I like the smell of pine trees, the real thing, not candles. Oh and candy; the good kind, not that loser stuff.”

“What are you,12?” A slight snort of laughter erupted from her.

“I’m 5,013 ,” he said and stuck his forked tongue out at her. This was the first time he had ever seen her laugh. After two months of scheduled meetings, trying to force just a little bit of conversation out of her, he finally got Fang to laugh.

“It’s just so weird,” she said, the laugh slowing in her voice. “I thought you were gonna say warfare or videos of people falling down the stairs. Maybe professional wrestling. Something a little more chaotic.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like any of those things. Okay, well, videos of people falling down the stairs are pretty funny but not in, like, a malicious way.”

Fang looked over at him, standing in the yellow lamplight in the back of the room. A pink hue flushed his cheeks. She reached out to pat the bed beside her, inviting him closer. He did so, not quite sitting on the bed but barely hovering over it and folding his wings up against his back. She still went rigid when he got close, but she held her ground.

“What about you?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows pressed against his knees and chin resting on both hands. “What do you like?”

“Oh,” she blinked a few times, clumpy lashes sticking together. “I thought you would have rooted through my brain for that information.”

“I’m trying out this new thing called privacy. I hear humans like it.” She contorted her mouth in confusion and disgust. “I’m kidding,” he replied. “I know what privacy is. Despite what you may believe, I do have a sense of right and wrong.”

“I can’t help what I believe,” she replied. The silence hung between them as if sentenced to death on the gallows. And even though her music raged on with angry synth-drums and screaming lyrics, nothing could cover up the quiet between them. Fang sucked in a breath, looking away from him as if disinterested. “I like bubble gum, punk bands that say ‘fuck’, horror movies that are so bad they’re good, dunking all my foods in hot sauce, and…” she thought a moment, “killing demons.”

He must’ve turned a stark white. “Seriously? Well, that’s...”

She smiled, a subtle curve at the corner of her mouth. “I’m kidding. I can make jokes too. I mean, killing demons is fun, but I wouldn’t call it a hobby.” Her glance was sly and wry, a slip of her true personality slipping through her exterior.

“Are, uhm, you still going to exorcist training?” he asked.

He could see the pieces of her history strewn about the room, as if she left everything out in the open on purpose. Old demonology textbooks were stacked on the corner of her desk (you could tell they were old because books stopped going into print 2,000 years ago), a protection sigil hung over the door, all of her awards and medals for exorcism-training were displayed proudly in the same manner that other teenagers might display martial arts or science fair ribbons. There was a faint and lingering smell of burnt aromatics used to protect the home. Everything about Fang had been shaped and cultured to distrust him.

It was one of the universe’s sick jokes. First, to take Mizar away, keep her hidden from his sight for so long, and then to turn her against him.

The way Fang looked at him always seemed to be accompanied by a threat, as if she were counting the ways she could bring him down. “I am.” She said it so plainly, as if she meant to insult him with the mundanity of it. “Dropping out would be suspicious. I’ve been training since the day I turned 12, to stop so suddenly would raise concern in the community. I have to pretend like nothing has changed until I turn 18 and I can take my test to become a full exorcist. And besides,” she said. “I think I need it now more than ever.”

He perked up. “Does that mean you’ve given the whole Alcor and Mizar thing more thought?”

“I haven’t,” Fang replied, a cold snap to her voice. Dipper then realized she wasn’t talking about fighting demons with him, she was talking about fighting him. She was still worried he might betray her. “I just don’t understand this Mizar thing right now. I need more time to…”

“Adjust?”

“Yeah.”

“I understand.” His cheek puckered where he bit down on the inside of it.

Fang leaned back, using the palms of her hands to press against the bed and stretch out her back. “So,” she said, eager to keep talking in order to ignore the absurdity of her situation. “What did you want to do? Considering it’s your birthday and all.”

“Oh.” Dipper hadn’t expected to get this far. He thought Fang would have asked him to leave by that point. “I don’t know. It’s honestly been a really long time since I’ve celebrated with anyone. How do you typically celebrate?”

“I uhm,” Fang rested her cheek on her hand. “I don’t celebrate. My parents are usually too busy; not to mention they’re pretty terrible gift-givers. They always get me something related to exorcism. Seriously, for my 5th birthday they got me a copy of My First Demonic Dictionary . It had all sorts of fun words for kids like ‘circle’, ‘fire’, and ‘human sacrifice’. And three years ago, I said I wanted some new music downloads. So they got me 3 albums of Latin chanting.” Dipper chuckled a little at that, though Fang didn’t appreciate him mockering her misery. She punched him in the shoulder. It didn’t hurt. “Cut it out. It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, that's just a terrible present. Latin chanting is the worst . I’m more of a classics guy myself; like BABBA.” He cleared his throat, it was a terrible nervous habit, considering he didn’t have a throat nor did he have something to clear out of it. “So really, you just spend your birthday alone? No friends or anything?”

“No, I’ve never been good at making or keeping friends.” She sighed and leaned backwards so that her shoulder blades touched the back wall by her bed. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common. We’re both good at being alone. Huh?” There was a slight arc in her lips, a certain kind of look in her black makeup-rimmed eyes. Fang had the face of a silent film star; someone who had perfect control over their expressions. There was something coy in her face, like she had left a snare for him to walk into. She had him all figured out.

“What makes you think I’m alone?” he replied.

“Because you’re spending your birthday with someone you barely know. That sounds pretty lonely to me.”

He laughed to himself, a sharp-toothed smile spreading across his face. “You’re very astute, Fang.” Then his smile faded into something more soft and contemplative. “But we aren’t alone right now. And all I’d really like for my birthday is for us to try to be friends.”

He could tell by the pucker in her bottom lip that she was thinking. Letting out a breath through her nose, the tips of her bangs ruffled. “I guess I can try.” The deep brown of her irises looked nearly black as her dark gaze settled on his.

For the first time, the smile she gave him was friendly and the tide of her breathing became relaxed. Maybe things were finally starting to change.

#transcendence au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Tree House Kisses, Chapter 5 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

Chapter Summary: Just when Adore’s tired of being tired, someone new shows up. But why wasn’t Courtney informed?

Chapter 5: Shape of You

Adore shoved a couple of chips into her mouth, nose wrinkled in disgust, watching the obvious way Roy was flirting with Courtney, and the shameless way she was lapping up the attention. It had started with him teasing her, and currently had devolved into him attempting to tickle her on the grassy hillside where the group ate their lunch, as Courtney shrieked and giggled and pretended to want him to stop.

It had been a strange summer. After the bombshell news about Courtney’s parents dropped, Adore had decided not to reveal anything to her best friend about her sexuality yet. She tried to be a rock, a shoulder to cry on. She made a serious effort to spend time with Courtney all summer - even begging Bonnie to take Courtney along with them when they visited her cousins in Arizona, and making sure that no more than a few hours went by without a text.

Sometimes, she felt like she was leading a double life. Because while all that was going on, at the same time, she was taking every possible opportunity to sneak off with Violet. They had long since passed the days of mere make-outs in the tree house, and graduated to more adult forms of sexual experimentation. Violet was desperately in love with Fame, another girl in their class (although she tried to act cool about it), and it helped Adore to know that neither one of them was going to have their feelings crushed - at least, not by each other.

As Courtney had become fond of saying - romance and love and relationships were utter bullshit. The only thing in life that could truly be counted on were your friends.

And even that, Adore realized, was not guaranteed, as she watched her best friend act like a total fucking braindead idiot with a boy who had been annoying them since elementary school.

“Royyyyy, stoooop!” Courtney whined, giggling and simpering at him.

Adore stood up, the remnants of her lunch in her hands. “You know, when you want someone to stop touching you, giggling and batting your eyelashes is kind of a mixed message,” she said, then turned and flounced away.

Courtney jumped up and hurried after her. “Dory, wait up!”

Roy sighed slightly, whining to no one in particular, “Goddammit. Adore totally just fucked up my game.”

Jamin and Bob both laughed.

“What game?” Jamin asked.

“Yeah bro, you got no game,” Bob added.

“I have game!” Roy defended.

Alyssa and Darienne exchanged a look.

“Sorry, how long have you liked Courtney?” asked Darienne.

“Yeah, and you’re still just friends?” added Alyssa, with a judgmental pop of her tongue. “Maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”

The pretty brunette gave Roy a playful shove, fluttering her lashes.

“I’m taking it slow.”

“You’ve known her since you were like 3. That’s reeeeeeal slow, man,” Thorgy laughed.

“No fuckin’ game,” Bob proclaimed.

“Courtney!” Roy hurried up to Courtney at her locker, trying to catch her between the lunch bell and fifth period.

“Hey.” Courtney turned around, shutting her locker and flashing him a lopsided grin.

“Um...so...have you seen that new Exorcist movie yet?”

“Nope...have you?”

“No, but, uh...I heard it’s good. I was gonna try to see it this weekend.”

“Cool...” Courtney smiled, giving him a glimmer of hope.

“Are you free Friday? Do you want to maybe come with me?” Roy asked tentatively.

“Sure,” she agreed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Who else is coming?”

“Oh. Um…” Roy shifted slightly. “I kind of thought it would just be the two of us.” He watched her face carefully as recognition dawned in her eyes.

“Oh…” she said softly, biting her lip nervously.

Roy cleared his throat and quickly backtracked, “You know, as friends.” He gave her a shaky smile, flashing his dimples.

“Right! Of course!” Courtney beamed up at him, eyes bright, radiant smile melting his heart. “So...I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Relief and shame coursed through him. You fucking pussy, he told himself.

Courtney bit her lip again, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and bouncing away down the hall. Bob, leaning on his locker nearby, gave Roy a knowing smirk.

Roy shook his head as Bob came sauntering towards him. “Don’t even start.”

Bob laughed. “Noooo fuckin’ game.”

“Fuck off,” Roy snapped, punching Bob on the shoulder.

COURTNEY: What do I wear? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea...

COURTNEY: But I still want to look cute.

COURTNEY: Do you think it’s really a just friends thing or is he full of shit?

ADORE: He’s full of shit

COURTNEY: LOL

COURTNEY: Well...

COURTNEY: If this is a date, what do I DO?

COURTNEY: Do I let him kiss me?

COURTNEY: I don’t know if I even like him like that...

COURTNEY: DORY HELP

ADORE: Come over. I’m bored.

VIOLET: Sorry pumpkin. It’s my brother’s birthday. We’re classing it up at the Outback Steakhouse tonight.

ADORE: Fuck.

VIOLET: What would you do if I was there??

VIOLET: …

VIOLET: Tell me where you’d touch me...

ADORE: I’m not in the mood for this.

VIOLET: You’re no fun at all.

ADORE: Yeah, well. Life is no fun.

VIOLET: Emo cunt

ADORE: Fuck off

VIOLET: Ohhhhhh...tonight’s your boo’s big date, huh?

ADORE: Goodnight, Violet

COURTNEY: DUDE

COURTNEY: He’s wearing so much cologne

COURTNEY: OMG I think this is a date

COURTNEY: WTF do I do?

COURTNEY: Adore???

COURTNEY: OK he’s being really nice and he keeps giving me those puppy eyes

COURTNEY: I feel kind of bad

COURTNEY: I really wish you were here

COURTNEY: Lol I just said “supposably” on purpose and he didn’t even correct me (I mean he clenched his teeth but he didn’t say anything)

COURTNEY: Lol he’s trying so hard

COURTNEY: It’s really pretty cute...

COURTNEY: DORY ARE YOU ALIVE???

“Ugh!” Adore hurled her phone out the window, into the grass. She curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. And then she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, hands were shaking her awake.

She opened her eyes to see Courtney leaning over her in a relatively modest (for her) outfit, consisting of a sweater, colorful leggings, mini-skirt, and ugg boots.

“Why are you ignoring me?” she pouted, hands on her hips.

Adore groaned. “I fell asleep. How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Yeah, yeah. So did you kiss him or what?”

“Nope.” Courtney flopped down next to Adore on the bean bag, resting a head on her shoulder.

Adore sighed. “You will.”

Courtney laughed. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Adore had seen the moving truck in the driveway yesterday, on her way back from Violet's. To her disappointment, she didn't see anyone, but like everyone else on the street, she was curious as to who was moving into their neighborhood. Adore and her mother even made a bet a couple of weeks ago, when Bonnie announced that the house had been sold. Adore was sure that their new neighbors were going to be a fresh young couple with small kids (also hoping she could get a babysitting job), and Bonnie was convinced that it was an older couple that she had seen looking at the house not long after Bendela’s family moved out.

“I just want you to casually walk by and see what you can peek,” Bonnie said from her place by the stove scrambling eggs, “But don't be creepy, okay?”

“What? I'm not creepy,” Adore leaned on the table, slightly offended.

“Yeah, sometimes you are. You got them big ol’ eyes and sometimes you just stare at people,” Bonnie turned to look at Adore, who was frowning. “Now, don’t get upset, I'm just saying that when you get nervous or shy you tend to just stare. And though it can be endearing, it’s also…a little bit creepy. Like the other day at the grocery store,” Bonnie continued to elaborate.

“What?” Adores voice went up a couple of octaves, “I didn't do anything at the store!”

“Oh, I know you didn't. You just gawked at the cashier as she flirted with you. I was so embarrassed. ‘My child is so awkward,’ I thought,” Bonnie sighed dramatically.

Since Adrian went to college a couple of months ago, the pair had become closer than Adore ever imagined. Being the last one in the house made Bonnie clingier than ever. Everywhere they went, her mother continuously pointed out pretty girls, trying to figure out Adore's type, even though Adore insisted she didn't have a type. Bonnie also let Adore have a glass of wine with her in the evenings, while they watched movies or ate dinner.

“That's totally different, she was gorgeous,” Adore exclaimed standing up from the table and grabbing two plates out of the cabinet.

“Okay, and? So are you,” Bonnie turned off the stove, scooping the eggs onto both plates.

“I was caught off-guard.”

“How? She was checking you out before we even got to the register.”

“I… I just didn't realize she was actually flirting with me until,” Adore tried to find the right excuse for her cold feet in the store the other day, “I thought she was just doing her job,” Adore shrugged, taking the waffles out of the toaster.

“Adore, you’ve got to work on your gaydar or you'll never get a girlfriend.”

Adore tried to be discrete as she wandered down the street to Dela’s old house. She noticed that the moving truck was no longer there, indicating that the mysterious neighbors were now settled in. Adore made sure to appear as casual as possible as she strolled past the driveway.

All of that was soon thrown out the door, when she saw the blonde crouched next to dirt bike. Stopped in her tracks, Adore stood mouth agape as she drank the girl in, because damn was she sexy. The girl’s thick blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail with a few strays falling loose, long creamy legs were on display thanks to a pair of cut off shorts, paired with a loose white tank top and beat up combat boots. All of it making Adore’s heart go into overdrive. And when she looked up at Adore with those ice-blue eyes framed by thick liner, Adore knew she was a goner.

Adore swallowed, when the girl rose from her crouched position everything seeming to move in slow motion as she made her way towards a mesmerized Adore. She took in every part of the girl, her slim frame, her red bra shown clearly through the thin top and her face--fuck she was beautiful. She definitely wasn’t an old groggy couple, or a three-year-old in need of a babysitter.

“Sup,” the blonde nodded stopping in front of her, eyes trailing down Adore’s body. Her voice was slow, low and fucking sexy.

“Uh,” Adore giggled nervously, “Hi.”

“So, I’m guessing you live ‘round here. Came to check out the new neighbors,” the blonde said, shifting her weight to one leg, linking her thumbs in her belt loops.

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I live a couple of houses down. Yeah, that one right there, I don’t know if you can, like, see it. It’s the one with the tree house in the backyard,” Adore stumbled over her words pointing in the direction of her house. She couldn’t believe it, in a matter of seconds she’d been reduced to a blubbering, giggly mess.

Her heart raced as the blonde leaned in towards her to get a look at where Adore was pointing, “That one, right there?” she pointed in the same direction as Adore, her voice sending shivers down Adore’s spine.

“Yeah,” Adore swallowed, quickly looking away to try to regain her composure.

“Well, nice to meet ya, I’m Pearl,” the girl held her hand out, blue eyes boring into Adore’s.

“A-Adore,” she reached out to meet Pearl’s hand.

COURTNEY: Meet me at the flagpole before class starts?

ADORE: Sorry, busy

Adore stuffed her phone into her bag as she led Pearl to the office to get her schedule from the office.

“Hopefully we have some classes together, but even if we don’t I can still show you to them. I mean, like, if you want me to, ya’ know,” Adore offered. She tried to play it cool, but she knew Pearl had her wrapped around her finger and it’d only been two days.

Pearl wasn’t just a pretty face, she was hilarious--with her deadpan sense of humor, filled with random facts. And they had a lot of interests in common. And when Pearl confirmed that she was a lesbian, Adore nearly fell out of her chair. Literally.

They were in Pearl’s garage drinking soda, listening to Green Day, Adore giving her a picture of what to expect from school.

“I mean I haven’t really been hanging out with my friends as much as I use to. Kind of just been a floater lately; talking to this person and hanging out with that person. Usually my best friend, Courtney. You should meet her; she’s amazing,” Adore shrugged tilting the chair forward. She was sitting backwards on the chair, legs on either side, arm resting on top of the back as she rocked.

“Well, I mean high school is that time when people start to go their separate ways. But, now you’ve got me. I’m just hoping there’s a lot of cute girls. I mean I haven’t been let down so far,” Pearl said, taking a sip from her can.

Adore face went red at the compliment, but was more focused on getting a solid answer, “Cute girls?” she inquired, making sure to keep her tone light, as she leaned forward with the chair.

“Yeah, I’m a girl’s girl,” Pearl winked and Adore nearly lost her balance, the chair almost slipping away from her. Luckily, Pearl reached out to help steady her.

“Of course, I want you to show me around. Don’t let me get stuck with some preppy tour guide who’s way too enthusiastic and happy to be here,” Pearl gave a crooked smile.

Adore giggled, since that tour guide would likely have been Darienne or Thorgy, who certainly fit the “preppy and too enthusiastic” description.

After getting Pearl’s schedule, they happily realized that they had three out of six classes together. “I can show you to your homeroom now or later, but I don’t think it’ll matter. We only go to homeroom to pick up papers or on important test days,” Adore explained.

“We can go to class now and stop by in between classes,” Pearl suggested.

“Okay, then. Let’s go to English,” Adore said, leading Pearl to first period.

“Mr. Harris, this is Pearl.”

“Oh, we have a new student?” the older man looked up from his desk, “Well, why wasn’t I informed about this?” he mumbled to himself, shuffling the papers on his desk.

“Yeah, Pearl Lent,” Pearl introduced herself. “Well, take a seat, wherever you choose, and talk to me after class so we can get caught up,” he dismissed the two.

Adore led Pearl to the back, where she usually sat. They were soon joined by April and Bob.

“You must be the new girl,” Bob smiled at Pearl.

“Yep.”

“Yeah, this is Pearl. She’s fucking cool.”

“Hi, I’m April.”

"Hi there." Pearl smiled charmingly up at April.

“Mhm, it’s pretty weird having someone living in the old Emerson’s house,” Bob started.

Adore’s brows furrowed, confused because that was not Bendela’s last name.

“Yeah, it’s been empty for as long as we can remember. Right Adore?”

“What are you-”

“Yeah. You know it’s haunted,” Bob continued, leaning forward onto Pearl’s desk. “Apparently, the Emerson’s son was a murderer and they moved when suspicions started to rise. The story is that their son started off killing animals in his backyard for fun- sacrificing them. Then one day, he grew curious. Wondered what it would be like to take the life of something bigger, more significant, a person. His first victim was his four-year-old neighbor. He suffocated him, then cut up his body before burying him. Then after that he couldn't stop. He grew addicted to the power. Some say that his parents knew and were just too afraid to confront him. Others say that they didn’t believe their sweet child could do all the horrible things that he was being accused of...” Bob was so close to Pearl, his voice falling to a whisper at the end.

Adore looked at Pearl, who was staring at Bob with a look of disbelief, confused and creeped out because her parents had told her that a family had just moved out earlier that summer.

“He’s so full of shit, Pearl,” Adore shook her head.

“Adore!” Bob laughed, “You’re always ruining things.”

“It wasn’t even funny.”

“Yeah, because you didn’t give it a chance to be.”

“Bob,” Adore sighed, “You’re just not funny,” she tried to keep her tone serious.

“Adore, stop lying,” Bob shook his head, “I’m hi-lar-ious,” he said, turning to April, who was a giggling mess in her seat, “See!”

Before Adore could reply, she was interrupted by Courtney, who she hadn’t even seen come in.

“Uhm, Hi, you must be Pearl,” Courtney gave a tight smile.

“Yeah, and you are?” Pearl leaned forward, attention on the pretty green-eyed girl.

“Courtney, and this is my seat.”

Pearl frowned, but shook her head and with an ‘okay’ and started to gather her things to move, not wanting to be problematic on her first day.

She was stopped by Adore, who put her hand on her arm, “Wait,” she said, and then turned to her best friend. “Courtney, it’s her first day. I’m showing her around, let her sit here, we don’t have assigned seats. Just sit next to April,” Adore tried to convince Courtney.

Appalled and offended, Courtney’s mouth dropped opened at her best friend’s words. “What?” she scoffed.

“Court, come on. Don’t be like that, just let her sit here,” Adore said, pouting at the end.

“I can move. It’s not a big deal, Adore,” Pearl said moving to gather her stuff again.

“No,” Adore whined before looking back to Courtney.

“Adore, she just said it’s no big deal and I’ve been sitting next to you since the first day of class. That’s not fair,” Courtney was now annoyed, not at Pearl, but Adore’s audacity to let someone that she just met take her seat, then try to convince her to sit somewhere else.

“Okay, okay. You’re right,” Adore finally agreed, “Pearl let’s sit over there, there's two open seats.”

As Adore and Pearl moved, Courtney scrunched up her face, sitting down with a huff.

Adore was over the moon to have Pearl in her classes. Introducing the beautiful girl to everyone, giddy when Pearl turned to look at her for reassurance or to make a face. Maybe, it was because Pearl was new and different. Adore had been surrounded by the same people most of her life and Pearl’s presence was such a breath of fresh air, Adore could barely contain her excitement.

“You don’t have to buy a locker if you don’t want. You can share with me?” Adore offered as they left Pearl’s homeroom teacher who had given her a bunch of papers that she would need.

“Really?”

“Yeah, no reason for you to pay five dollars for a locker, when I have plenty room in mine.”

“Wow, I guess I need to start thinking of a way to pay you back,” Pearl winked and Adore blushed when their hands lightly brushed together.

As the pair made their way to math, a particular short skirt caught Adore’s attention. Violet was bent over in front of her locker, going through her bag and Adore, excited to introduce Pearl, dragged the girl over to Violet.

“Hey, babe,” Adore greeted Violet, her hand lightly touching the exposed skin on Violet’s thigh to get her attention.

“Hey,” Violet stood up, turning to press a light kiss to Adore’s cheek before looking over to the blonde with narrowed eyes.

Pearl was unashamedly checking Violet out, taking in her pretty doll-like face, long black ponytail, crop top, and skirt.

“Hm, this must the infamous Pearl,” Violet said, a bored look on her face as she looked Pearl over. She had to admit that the girl was gorgeous, but Violet didn't plan to let Pearl know that.

“Infamous,” Pearl repeated in her slow drawl, “I wouldn’t use that word, but I am Pearl,” she finished with a crooked smirk.

Adore glanced between them hoping that they would get along, but from Violet’s demeanor it didn’t seem like she was planning to befriend the girl anytime soon.

“Whatever, everyone’s been talking about you. And I’ll say, I’m not impressed.”

“Oh, so, I’m guessing you’re the mean girl,” Pearl said, her tone joking.

“Sure,” Violet rolled her eyes, turning to pick up her bag and close her locker, “See you later, beautiful,” Violet said, pressing another kiss to Adore’s cheek, this time longer, making sure to leave a red print on Adore’s cheek. She pulled away, before sending Pearl a look and walking away.

Adore wiped the print from her cheek, as Pearl watched Violet walk away, her curiosity evident.

“Uh, girlfriend?” Pearl asked as she looked back to Adore.

“No, no,” Adore assured.

Pearl raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Well, she’s fucking gorgeous and she didn’t really seem to like me and that kiss was definitely a claim,” Pearl wiped the rest of Violet’s lipstick off her face as they made their way to their next class.

“Nah, we have like a friends with benefits kind of relationship, but she’s not like jealous or anything, I'm positive. She just likes to leave her mark and being difficult, that’s just her. But she’ll come around soon,” Adore nodded.

Gia and Laganja slid into the seats on either side of Courtney. She looked up from the math homework she was trying to finish before the bell rang. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey Court,” said Laganja. “You alright? You seem kind of...”

“Out of sorts…” Gia finished slowly, with a wry smile.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm.” Laganja clicked her tongue, imitating her role model, their head cheerleader, Alyssa Edwards.

“What do you think of that new girl?” Gia asked. “She’s like...really beautiful, huh?”

Courtney shrugged, “I mean, she’s pretty...I guess...”

“You guess? She’s gorgeous, and Adore seems to really like her,” Laganja pushed, observing Courtney’s reaction closely.

Courtney shifted in her seat, her mouth slightly turned down as she frowned, “She’s just showing her around because she’s new.”

Just then Adore and Pearl walked in together, Adore standing with Pearl as she introduced herself to the teacher.

“Eh, I don’t think that’s it,” Gia said, “I mean, we all know Adore, and she’s acting like Pearl’s the best thing since glitter.”

“I know Adore too, better than either of you,” Courtney snapped, ready to go on the defensive.

The knowing smirk they exchanged went over Courtney’s head as Adore and Pearl walked over to them.

“Just look at them, acting like the best of friends,” Laganja whispered right before the pair sat down. “Hey, Adore, did you finish the homework?” she asked innocently.

Courtney stayed silent as she watched Adore and Pearl.

“Yeah, I copied from Jinkx,” Adore said stiffly. It was no secret how much Adore disliked Courtney’s cheerleading friends, or as she liked to refer to Gia and Laganja, “Team Too Much.” She turned to murmur something to Pearl, who brushed Adore’s hair off of her shoulder, causing her cheeks to turn red.

Laganja looked at Courtney pointedly, one eyebrow raised. A hot jealousy started to burn in Courtney’s chest as she watched the two interact, but she refused to acknowledge it as anything more than fear of losing her best friend to a girl who had only been around for a day.

Courtney picked at her food, watching Adore and Pearl over by the lockers, chatting. Pearl had a hand on Adore’s arm, and Adore’s eyes sparkled as they talked, heads close together.

Bob shoved Roy slightly. “You could learn a thing or two from that new girl. Less than a week and Adore is ready to pack a suitcase full of her Indigo Girls CDs and move in with her. That’s game.”

Roy punched Bob on the arm, muttering, “Shut the fuck up!” under his breath.

Courtney frowned. “Bob, you’re such a little gossip. Why are you always starting rumors?”

“It’s not a rumor.” Bob said, confused. “She still hasn’t told you? It’s been like a year.”

Roy punched him again.

“Stop punching me, fuckface!” Bob punched him back.

“Hasn’t told me what?” Courtney asked quietly.

“Adore’s gay, Courtney. She came out to her family like, almost a year ago. Her mom told my mom last year.”

Courtney stared at Bob in stunned silence, heart pounding in her ears.

#rpdr fanfiction #adore delano #courtney act #adorney #bianca del rio #pearl liaison #violet chachki #bob the drag queen #bitney #viadore #adore x pearl #angst #fluff #lesbian au #high school au #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica

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dmitri-writes · 4 years

Text

Support~Familial Creativitwins Request

INFO -requested by a wattpad user -roman and remus having a healthy familial relationship -NOT ROMANTIC, NOT REMROM

TRIGGER WARNINGS -roman and logan are both mean to each other, as usual

***

I'm a terrible person. Why do I do this? Why can't I be nice? They're mad at me. They hate me. They h- "Roman?" Roman's head turns quickly to his brother's voice. Remus drops his morningstar in boredom and plops on the floor, "Why are you in the closet? Is Thomas denying his sexuality again?" Roman just shakes his head and curls up more, pulling a shirt down on his head. Remus shrugs and gets up, grabbing a random clothing item and walking away. Roman stays in his position and closes the closet door again. A moment later, Remus opens it. "Okay you would kill me if I was even in your room, let alone take your clothes. What the fuck happened?" Roman stays silent and shifts to face the corner away from Remus. "Stupid stubborn brother..." Roman hears Remus mumble as he shuts the closet door and walks away. Stubborn. Stupid.

Remus leaves Roman's room and looks around for someone. He sees Virgil's room and barges through the door, "Emo do you know-" "Get the fuck out!" Virgil throws a plastic cup at Remus and he sighs before leaving. Who to ask next??? Oh, there's Patton. Remus pops into Patton's room, "DADD-" "AH! Oh, Remus! You scared me!" Remus shrugs and continues, "What happened to Roman?" Patton raises an eyebrow, "What do you mean kiddo? Why are you looking for him?" Remus rolls his eyes, "Relax, I'm not gonna hit him or anything. I know where he is but I need to know why he's there." Patton shrugs, "We were talking to Logan and Roman left after the conversation was over." Remus knows that something probably went over Patton's head and leaves to find Logan's room.

Popping into the room, Remus again, yells out, "Nerdy Wolverine!" Logan turns from the whiteboard he is writing on and looks at Remus, "What brought you here Remus?" "Why is Roman curled up in his closet and not saying anything?" Logan frowns and caps his marker, setting it on the whiteboard. "It seems a comment I made might have stung more than I intended it too." Remus tries not to get angry, he knows how Roman and Logan both unknowingly hurt each other, but he can't help but to ball his fists. "What did you say?" "He-" "You. Not him. I'll find that out when I talk to him. What did you say." Logan sighs and crosses his arms, "Fair enough. I said that just because he's insecure doesn't mean he can project onto others." Remus hurriedly sinks out before he can do anything he'll regret.

Back in Roman's room, Remus opens the door a little more aggressively than he wants too. He sees Roman flinch and whispers an apology. He takes a seat on the wall opposite Roman. It's silent for a minute. Silent and Remus hates it. Why doesn't Roman talk to him? "I found out what Logan said to you." "It's my fault, I said that no one liked him-" "Shush. Look even if you did say that, he knows you didn't mean it. Both of you need to start communicating your actual thoughts instead of snapping." Roman laughs lightly, "You sound like Logan." Remus lightly kicks the back of Roman's shoulder, "Pocket protector doesn't think so." "Yeah, he does! He wouldn't stop talking about how 'saccharine' is something he would say and how shocked he was that you used it correctly." Remus' eyes go wide in shock and Roman laughs. Remus' face goes red and Roman pokes him. "Well, Logan talks about you too!" Remus calls, and Roman laughs, "Yeah, probably saying how stupid I am." Remus shakes his head, "He talks all the time about how you're such a hard worker."

The twins go back and forth, talking about all the times the others have complimented them without their knowing. Neither of them had expected just how much the others actually liked them. Remus was most surprised by Patton's good words, and Roman was most surprised by Logan's. As they talk, Roman slowly relaxes and uncurls, turning more towards Remus. Towards the end of their conversation, the door to the closet opens. Both twins' heads snap towards the intruder and see it's Logan. Logan speaks before either of them can ask what he's doing in Roman's room, "Roman, I would like to apologize for what I said earlier. Both of us were harsh but I should not have snapped as I did." Roman smiles, "Don't worry about it, Logan. I'm sorry too. I need to stop projecting my insecurities onto others."

The shocked look on Logan's face made both twins laugh. "Well, I'm gonna get a refill on my deodorant, bye!" Remus sinks out and Roman makes his way out of the closet. Logan regains his composure, "I'm going to... go back to my room and continue my activities." Roman watches him sink out and then sinks out himself, going to the stage. He'll have to thank Remus later for cheering him up.

#roman sanders #ts roman #remus sanders #ts remus #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #creativitwins #dmitri-writes #dmitri writes requests #dmitri-writes requests

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b-icetea · 5 years

Note

92. "Let's move in together"

@gleedegrassi-bigfan @rosestylers

Fair warning? I made myself cry with this … IT’S MORE RELATIONSHIP FLUFF Y’ALL!!!!

92. “Let’s move in together.”

Their voices still echo, but nonetheless, it is staggering, what a difference a year can make.

Matteo can see his younger self. Hair a mess, clothes too big, soul a tangle of black lines, like someone had written down something, only to savagely cross it out until just a big ball of chaos was left. Mind slow and complicated and racing all at once, like static. He can see that boy in his mind’s eye, brought here by this mysterious other boy that he wasn’t able to figure out then. Past Matteo didn’t know what the future held for him. Had been afraid of it, because what if it wouldn’t be good? What if he would fuck it up? Plans were for people who knew what they were doing and not for an eighteen-year-old stoner kid that sometimes forgot to shop and had trouble finding clothes without stains on them.

That boy lived his life day by day and that was how it had to be back then. And it had worked out, hadn’t it? Living life like this – minute for minute – meant not having to think too far ahead, meant concentrating only on the imminent and inevitable.

Graduate. Tell your friends who your really are. Fall in love and do it right because it will be the first and last time you do it.

That took all the effort he could muster back then. Looking back at it now and looking at the previously mysterious boy, now all see-through and all the more loved for it, Matteo knows it was the right thing to do.

A year later, though, after all the madness and the ghosting and the heartbreak, the getting back together and the learning each other, Matteo is finally at a place where looking at the future is not something scary, but something to look forward to.

He wants to make plans. Actually, he lowkey has been making them for a while and David even knows about most of them.

God, Matteo used to be such a closed off little bitch. Every idea he came up with was automatically branded as stupid by his own brain the minute it was conceived. David was one of the few people he had let see into the weirdness of his mind and who had sometimes made fun, but always in a good way and who, in the end, never looked down on him for any of it.

So, David had helped. And then, a therapist.

Matteo’s mind is less of a scary place these days. He still gets lost sometimes, but he has an easier time finding his way back from the mazes and monsters he finds there.

His head is filled with other things now. Maybe that is why he suggested coming back here. They haven’t been at the pool since that night were Matteo screamed at David, because gentle and patient apparently didn’t do it and aggressive and worried had to come out to get David away from this idea that flight was the only option for him.

He can still see him sitting there, at the bottom of the pool on that stupid mat, drawing something or other like the outcast vampire he pretended to be back then. It almost makes him scoff, the idea of what nearly happened. He’s glad they both managed to catch and keep each other, even though they were both dumb, stupid boys a year ago.

They’re still dumb, stupid boys, but at least they are a unit now.

The both of them have climbed down the ladder and into the pool and are looking around at the moment. Well, Matteo climbed. David jumped because he’s a dirty show-off and that will probably never change, judging from the smirk he shot Matteo after sticking the landing.

Nothing has changed, really. It’s still a dirty, old pool. But it’s also still the place where two of the most important things in Matteo’s life happened to him and that makes the place more magical than anything. When David first showed him here, Matteo liked the abandoned quality of the building and David and him still go explore every once in a while, these days. It’s their thing. But they do it less, because it reminds them of themselves anymore. David doesn’t feel like he needs to find these buildings so he has bunkers to hide in in case of a natural catastrophe. Matteo doesn’t see himself in them anymore. Now, what they do is, they explore together and fill these empty places full to the brim with memories of themselves.

“Remember last time we were here?”, Matteo asks, knowing full well that David does, but he needs a conversation starter. He wants to talk about what life was like, then.

How angry and then blissfully happy they were. How every word had so much impact Matteo would swear he felt them hitting or caressing his body physically.

The whole thing had been like being on a seesaw. Up and down. One second, they were screaming at each other and David wanted to run away and hide. The next second, they’d told each other I love you for the first time and had exchanged the softest kisses they could.

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep a minute that night.”

Matteo turns around to look at him, blinking incredulously. “You what now?”

“It was so uncomfortable”, David admits, almost whispering, breathy laughter underscoring his words. “The mat was too small and you were half on top of me and I couldn’t move. Something was digging in my back. I had my binder on.” He shrugs.

“What the hell, why didn’t you say anything?” Not that it had been the best night’s sleep of Matteo’s life, but he’d gotten a solid few hours. Though, that was probably because he could sleep almost anywhere and at any time.

David smiles at him. “I don’t know. I kept myself busy. I didn’t matter too much.”

“Not sleeping all night didn’t matter? No wonder you slept so long the day after.” He doesn’t address the binder thing, because they’ve argued about that enough and he knows, David doesn’t do stuff like that anymore. So, Matteo takes a few steps and stops once he’s next to David and can take his hand. He slots their fingers together. Squeezes. He loves David’s hands. “What could have kept you busy anyway. It was night.” It’s not like he could have drawn anything with Matteo’s sleepy deadweight pinning him down and no light to speak of.

David lowers his gaze and smiles a shy smile. “Thoughts and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

David licks his lips. “Yeah, I mean. I had a lot to think about.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know.”

“I obviously don’t, dude. What the fuck. Tell me.”

“Nö.”

“Tell me.”

“M-m.”

“Tell me. Tell me.”

“Nope.”

Matteo sees then, that words alone won’t do anything, so he decides to pull out the big guns. He curls the fingers of his right and towards his palm until only his pointer finger sticks out ominously.

David presses his lips together in an obvious effort to keep any laughter in. His eyes are wide and full of mischief.

“You sure that’s how you want to play it?”, Matteo asks, voice all calm and benevolent and shit.

His boyfriends just nods, slowly and seriously. Like he thought this through.

“Okay.” And then Matteo rushes towards him, but David has already taken off, shoes squeaking on the tiles.

“Stop running, you coward”, Matteo calls after him, but only gets a cackle in response.

David is sidestepping him at every turn, twisting around, evading him. Matteo must look like some sort of E.T. cosplayer that forgot his costume at home. Pointer finger still outstretched and running like a loon.

Their laughter fills the pool, echoes of the walls, makes it seem like their fun is bigger than themselves.

In the end, as always, David lets himself be caught around the middle. He bends over and Matteo spins him, once, twice, three times, back pressed to Matteo’s belly. After that, he never lets go, but just makes David turn in his arms so that they’re face to face. He puts kisses everywhere he can reach. Kisses his cheeks, his nose, his eyebrow. Once his teeth, because David is laughing and it makes him laugh even more.

Between kisses, Matteo chants “Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellme.”

“Oh, my god. I’ll tell you, stop.”

Matteo lets up, but presses one last kiss on David’s lips. He makes a growling noise during it, as is customary.

“You’re so stupid”, David tells him and tugs on his jacket hard, making Matteo bend a knee a little because of the pressure. A thought, a future kind of thought, flashes in his mind, and he grins, but doesn’t voice it.

“Tell me.”

David rolls his eyes. “I … maybe. Couldn’t sleep then.” He sighs. “Because I couldn’t believe it? Like. Everything had gone to shit. My biggest nightmare had happened and I was there to witness the whole thing? I hadn’t gone to my PE exam. I thought I had to repeat the whole year. I thought everybody hated me.”

“Who’s stupid now?”, Matteo says but he makes it gentle and David just huffs out a self-deprecating breath.

“Yeah. And then I sent you this emo, artsy sort of voice message. I thought it was really clever and romantic and sufficiently tragic for the situation. Only, you refused to accept it and instead came looking for me. I never imagined that would happen. At all. And then you screamed at me to get out of my own head, didn’t let me run away, told me, I still had friends and then told me you loved me. Suddenly, it felt like I had everything. Or could get everything, anyway. So, you’ll excuse me for being a bit preoccupied by the fact that said boy was sleeping in my arms. It felt like holding the whole world.”

Matteo’s heart does a little flip, then. David is looking to the side and then back at him. Embarrassed, but only a little, because they’ve told each other so much stuff, during this year together.

Sometimes something will happen to Matteo or he will have a thought and think, nah, I’m not gonna tell David about it. I’m gonna keep it to myself. But then David will walk in the door and the words will be out faster than Matteo can try to rein them in. Because talking to David and telling him things doesn’t feel like giving something away or giving something up. He isn’t losing anything by sharing his thoughts with him. It feels more like two people twining together, two puzzle pieces that fit and meld until they’re one.

David also knows a lot about the embarrassing things, Matteo thinks about him. How much he loves him and about the life he imagines for them. The surer he got that David and him were it, the more he started to daydream. He knew that it was too early for many of the things he wanted.

Some days he stares at his ring finger and rubs over the skin, wondering what it might be like to wear something there and freaks himself out, not because of how he doesn’t want it but because of how certain he is that he will want it one day. Not now, not until a few years have passed. But he can see it. And David knows about that. Matteo also knows what David’s answer will be when the time comes.

But now.

Now it’s maybe the time to take a different step. Ask a different question. A question that can be a response to the things David told him just now.

“Let’s move in together?”

David blinks. And then he smiles, bright as the sun.

Matteo knows what his answer will be to that question, too.

#druck #davenzi #datteo #david schreibner #matteo florenzi #matteo x david #fluff #love #all the good things #davenzi writing prompts #b-icetea's davenzi prompt fills #coster-waldau

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gra-sonas · 5 years

Text

The Kissing Booth | Malex [R]

This is a happy Malex highschool AU. There are no hammers or homophobic dads in this one, just two boys kissing for the first time (and then some). I may have borrowed a few lines of dialogue from 1x06, just not quite in the way you’d expect.

Author’s note I: Eternal thanks to @Insidious-Intent for the quick beta, you rock!

Author’s note II: This fic is rated R for a reason, Alex and Michael are both 17 (i.e. at the age of consent in New Mexico, and holy shit, do they both consent).

on AO3

This is for all my lovelies who had a rough night. ♥

･ﾟ✧

“Oh my god, Michael, what are you even wearing?”

Isobel is standing in front of Michael, arms akimbo and fury emanating from her every pore.

Michael looks down at himself.

“That’s my best flannel, Iz. There’s only one little stain on it that just won’t come out. These laundromat washing machines don’t do well with motor oil. But you can’t really see it when I’m in the booth.”

Michael is embarrassed. She knows that his budget doesn’t allow for him to buy fancy clothes, why is she so mad at him? Isobel closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I didn’t even notice the stain. But your shirt is missing buttons, Michael. Pretty much every button to be precise. And you’re not wearing a shirt underneath. I can almost see your belly button!”

Michael snickers, he’s quick to school his face into a mask of friendly indifference though. Iz doesn’t handle well being laughed at.

“I know, the one near my belly button came off when I put the shirt on this morning. I didn’t have time to fix it. And I didn’t have a clean shirt either. Sorry, Iz.”

Her face does a complicated thing where she looks furious one moment, then like she pities him the next (which he hates, he doesn’t want or need anyone’s pity, least of all hers), and then it’s back to her determined ‘I get shit done’ face. Michael almost gets whiplash from looking at her going through all these expressions.

“OK, I’m going to find a shirt for you, you cannot run the kissing booth with half your shirt off.”

“But why not, Iz? Don’t you think my sweaty, almost shirtless torso is gonna bring all the people to the yard?”

Isobel crunches her face in disgust.

“Ew, Michael. This is a school Carnival in case you forgot. Keep it PG and don’t be gross.”

“Gross is my middle name,” he mumbles under his breath.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, Iz, nothing.”

She looks around and spots a dark clad student with spiked hair walking up the steps to the school’s main entrance.

“Hey, you!”

The guy stops and turns around.

It’s Alex Manes, local emo/goth/whatever and avid skateboarder. He’s also the guy Michael’s had his bisexual awakening over. They’d been paired for a project in their computer science class last fall and Michael had liked spending time with Alex. A lot. They even got an A for their essay, thanks to Alex being an actual wizard when he had a keyboard in front of him. Michael is still in awe of Alex’s coding skills.

He’s also still hopelessly in crush with Alex. The dark eyeliner, the hair, the bling, not to forget the sinfully tight skinny jeans that do wonders to show off Alex’s strong legs and amazing ass. Yeah, ever since Michael realized that he’s also into dicks, Alex has played a vivid role in most of Michael’s fantasies, sexual and non-sexual. Not that he ever did anything about it though.

He knows Alex is gay, not a day's going by without Valenti and his ilk bullying Alex in some way because of it, but Michael’s been careful not to get any ideas. Alex might be gay, that doesn’t mean he’d necessarily be attracted to someone like Michael. He’s not exactly a catch with his big nose, unruly hair and hand-me-down clothes.

Michael’s trying to play it cool when Alex walks the steps back down and comes over to where they are standing in front of the Kissing Booth.

“You yelled, Miss Evans?”

Michael admires Alex for having the balls to address Isobel with a voice that’s dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t seem affected by Alex’s somewhat insolent reply though.

“Do you have an extra shirt?”

Michael is stunned, apparently Iz is willing to let Alex’s behavior slide, if only she gets a shirt for him out of it. She must be really desperate to cover his chest.

“I do.”

Michael feels his face heat up. Any second now Iz is going to explode and yell at Alex. And he’ll associate Michael with the incident and never look at him again. Great.

To his surprise, Isobel’s voice is especially sweet when she speaks again.

“I’m sorry, I should explain why I asked you about the shirt. You see, Michael here is going to run the kissing booth at the Carnival today, and look at his flannel. It’s missing a number of buttons. You can almost see his belly button!”

Faster than Michael has any chance to react, Iz pulls his flannel apart to show the expanse of his naked chest to Alex, who looks rather flabbergasted. Then his eyebrows draw together in a thoughtful frown.

“Wouldn’t that be a selling point though? I’m pretty sure most of the girls lining up to kiss Guerin will be more than happy to get an eyeful of that.”

He gestures at the general direction of Michael’s left nipple. Which hardens immediately. Fuck his life, Michael is not sure whether to laugh or cry. He goes for flirty sarcasm instead. If he’s going to die of embarrassment today, he’s gonna go out with a bang.

“Why just girls, Manes? I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy, don’t you think my manly chest could be of interest to anyone else?”

Alex’s eyes are wide, looking at Michael, but he snorts.

“I don’t see a single chest hair growing on that manly chest of yours.”

Iz waves her hand in front of Alex’s face.

“Sorry to interrupt your banter, but I have other things to take care of. Shirt?”

She holds up her flat hand and for a change, Alex complies. He takes off his backpack, opens it and pulls out a black shirt. The cover of Depeche Mode’s Music for the Masses album is printed on the front.

“It’s a bit frail around the collar, hope your manly chest won’t catch a cold through the holes. I want this back by the way, no need to wash it. I’ll do that myself.”

With that Alex hands the shirt over to Michael, zips his backpack, then turns around and leaves.

Michael is stunned. He clutches the shirt to his chest as if to comfort himself.

Iz puts a hand on his chin and turns his head around to look at him.

“Are you freaking out because you just outed yourself to the local gay guy?”

“What? No, of course not. It’s not a secret. I mean, I’ve never told anyone except you, but I’m not ashamed of it. I’m still stunned that you forced him to hand over a spare shirt so I won’t be such a kissing magnet.”

He yelps when Isobel’s fist makes contact with his bicep.

“Go into the booth and put the shirt on, wear the flannel over it, don’t make a scandal. This is all for a good cause and I don’t want to hear any complaints about your behavior. There are wet wipes in the booth, use them between kisses, there’s also mouth wash, use that too. I’ll come by in about two hours and I swear to god, your chest will never get a chance to grow a single hair, if you don’t behave. Understood?”

Michael nods. Isobel turns on her heel and heads over to the area where Max supervises the setup of a huge bouncy castle that looks like a flying saucer. Being as alien as possible in plain sight is Isobel’s thing, but then Roswell is the perfect town to host an alien themed Carnival.

Michael enters the kissing booth, unbuttons the remaining buttons of his favorite flannel and picks up Alex’s shirt. No one’s around, so he allows himself to hold it close to his nose and sniff. The shirt is freshly laundered, but it still smells like Alex somehow. It’s comforting.

Michael’s overcome with sudden longing, and he keeps breathing in the soothing scent for another moment. When he hears a noise from outside the booth, he quickly pulls the shirt over his head and exits the booth while he puts the flannel back on. He doesn’t bother with the buttons though.

･ﾟ✧

Three hours into the Carnival, Michael is tired. He’s chewed through a pack of gum, the first bottle of mouthwash is almost empty, and the trash can is filled with used wet wipes.

He’d thought kissing so many people in one day would be fun, but it’s not.

The number of people with bad breath is staggering (smokers being the worst), and more than one girl has tried to slip him their tongue. Michael loves kissing, but as it turns out, he has to like the person he kisses, or else it’s a somewhat boring and at times humiliating task.

Iz has allowed him to take a ten-minute break every hour and he’s relieved when the line in front of the booth dwindles down. Time to take his break. He’s about to close the window, when he sees Alex Manes approaching. It feels like his heart is doing a somersault in his chest.

Alex stops in front of the booth. He seems nervous, and he takes a deep breath before he speaks.

“Hey. Can we talk?”

Michael’s hands are sweaty and cold all of a sudden.

“Uh, yeah, I guess?”

Alex leans closer to the open window, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Somewhere private, maybe?”

Michael nods and tilts his chin to indicate that Alex should come around to the door on the back of the booth. As soon as Alex is out of sight, Michael closes the window and turns the sign that will inform people he’s on a break. It’s red with a green flying saucer depicted in the middle, and it reads I’ve been abducted, BACK IN 10.

Michael also closes the flimsy curtain to keep prying eyes from looking inside the booth before he opens the door.

Alex is fiddling with the hem of his black Danger! At the Picture Show shirt. When Michael tries to run his hand through his curls, he realizes he’s still wearing the green visor Isobel made him wear. The sticker on the bill depicts a little green Martian with pursed lips that says “Kiss me, I’m an alien". Michael takes the visor off and lets it dangle from one finger.

Alex enters the booth and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, it’s dim inside, the only light coming from three strings of fairy lights Isobel put up to imitate starlight. Pictures of UFOs and cartoon aliens are lining the walls, some of them are even kissing. A UFO made from papier-mâché is hanging from the ceiling, the WE COME IN PEACE lettering sparkling in green glitter.

Michael looks at Alex with wide eyes. He has no idea what Alex wants.

“Okay, talk?”

Michael feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin when Alex keeps quiet for what feels like at least another minute. All of a sudden Alex surges forward and puts his hands on the lapels of Michael’s flannel. He stumbles back until he hits the wall. Alex comes after him, taking small steps, then he pulls Michael closer ever so slowly. When Michael doesn’t give any indication of being afraid or wanting an out, Alex closes the final gap between them and kisses the living daylights out of him.

Michael is shell-shocked for all but two seconds before he also dives in and kisses back with everything he has, the visor dropping to the floor from his hands before he clings to Alex’s shirt.

When Alex pulls back eventually, Michael leans forward and tries to chase his lips. He lands one more peck before he opens his eyes and looks at Alex who’s taken a step back. His face is flushed and his eyes are so wide, Michael’s afraid they might pop out of his head any second. Michael wants to kiss the deer-in-the-headlights panic from Alex’s face, but he’s afraid that Alex might bolt when he follows that urge.

He’s careful to slow his motions when he reaches out for Alex and cups his face in his hands.

“Hey, you ok?”

Alex blinks.

“I’m not sure. I kissed you. And I didn’t even pay for the kiss. Isobel’s gonna kill me.”

Michael smiles at him.

“Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that? How often I dreamed about it?”

Alex looks stunned.

“You did? I never thought I’d have a shot with you, but then you said you’re also into guys earlier and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then I thought about all those times we talked when we were working on that project and I - I thought maybe... I’ve been debating whether I should line up and kiss you for the good cause, but then I didn’t want our first and maybe only kiss witnessed by half the school.”

Michael’s smile grows and his eyes light up.

“Our first kiss? So there will be more?”

Alex looks into his eyes and carefully inches closer until their chests are almost touching.

“Would that be a bad idea?”

Michael shakes his head, his curls flying in every direction.

“It’s the best idea you’ve had so far, other than making the first move. You have no idea how glad I am you did th... mmmffff.”

Alex effectively shuts him up by kissing him again.

He’s not shy about it either. The kiss gets more intense and almost filthy with a twist of Alex’s tongue that makes Michael moan. He’s never been kissed like that. Alex is claiming him, and Michael is one hundred percent on board with the idea.

When Alex cups Michael’s face and lets his hands wander to the back of his head to bury them in the long strands of his curls, Michael almost sobs with how good it feels. To be held like this. When Alex slightly pulls Michael’s hair a moment later, it goes straight to his cock.

He’d been getting harder with every swipe of Alex’s tongue, but the hair-pulling triggers his cock to full hardness. Alex somehow seems to realize what he’s done, because he’s letting go of Michael’s head by dropping his right hand, which causes Michael to make a protesting sound that almost immediately turns into a whimper when Alex uses his hand to cup Michael’s dick.

Michael cants his hips forward in an effort to get more pressure, and Alex, bless him, starts rubbing and squeezing his dick through the denim of his faded jeans. The friction is delicious but not near enough. If Michael had any control left over his limbs, he’d try to open his fly, but he’s clinging to Alex with both hands fisted in his shirt, holding on for dear life. If he lets go of Alex now, he might just drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

When he realizes that somehow Alex managed to open his fly with one hand, his knees almost give out under him. Alex fumbles with the waistband of his boxers for a second, but then his hand is finding its way inside and Michael hisses when Alex’s long, guitar-calloused fingers wrap around his cock and apply the perfect amount of pressure and friction. It only takes a few pulls of Alex’s hand until Michael comes, helplessly gasping into Alex’s mouth while the ripples of the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced run through his body.

He’s afraid he won’t be able to keep himself up any longer, but Alex is holding him through the full-body-shudders, whispering sweet nothings into Michael’s ear. He feels like a hot air balloon, ready to fly away with just a gust of wind, but Alex won’t let him. He’s holding Michael, grounding him, and slowly caressing him back to coherence.

He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed that he came all over Alex’s hand or what to do next. But apparently Alex is not only a coding wizard, he’s also a sex wizard who slowly coaxes Michael backwards until his knees hit the seat of the nearby chair. Alex helps him lower down until he sits after he’s pulled his hand out of Michael’s pants.

Alex looks around and notices the wet wipes. He picks them up and cleans his hand, then he kneels down in front of Michael and pulls down the waistband of his boxers. He dabs the remaining spots of come away, but instead of letting the waistband snap back against Michael’s stomach, Alex bends forward and places a soft kiss just slightly left of Michael’s happy trail, then another one a little lower, then another one on the smooth foreskin of his spent cock.

Michael is overcome with a wave of affection that makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

He buries his hands in the spiky strands of Alex’s hair and strokes against the grain. Alex makes a sound that sounds an awful lot like a purr. Michael files the information away for later. Because there has to be a later, a later where they are alone, where they have time to explore. And a horizontal surface to lie down.

Michael’s voice is raspy when he tries to speak again.

“This was... uhm, yeah.”

Alex looks up at him. His eyeliner is slightly smudged, and his pupils are blown. He smiles.

“Yeah, pretty damn uhm.”

Michael chuckles. Then he remembers that he has no idea whether Alex came. How very rude of him.

“Oh shit, you’ve been doing all the work here and gave me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and I - so um, should I now or...?”

Alex smiles and shakes his head.

“You don’t need to worry, Guerin. You did plenty. Seeing you like this, knowing that it was me who did this to you got me off just fine. I might have to use another of these wet wipes though, nothing worse than come drying in your underwear.”

Michael bursts out laughing. This whole situation is absolutely amazing and utterly ridiculous in equal measure. He wouldn’t want to change anything about it though. Apart from shutting down this damn kissing booth and taking off with Alex. Even the thought of kissing anyone but Alex after what just happened makes his skin crawl.

“You know what? Why don’t you clean up while I fire off a text to tell Iz I caught herpes from someone’s kiss. I’ll let her know that I found someone who offered to take me to the nurse’s office. Max is scheduled to take over the booth in an hour anyway. I doubt anyone will notice it’ll be closed for an hour because it’s lunch time.”

Alex nods along to Michael’s word vomit. He grabs the packet of wet wipes, unzips his pants and Michael has a hard time not to stare. How Alex will manage to clean up while his very tight jeans are basically glued to his skin is beyond Michael’s comprehension. He doesn’t dwell on the thought though, instead he pulls out his phone and texts Isobel.

He knows she’s going to be mad as hell at him. It’s impossible for him to catch herpes, he’s immune to human diseases (as far as they know), meaning she’ll know he’s bailing, but he doesn’t care.

He’s going to drive himself and Alex out into the desert where they will be alone and can continue where things left off. The makeshift bed in the back of his truck is the perfect playground.

When Alex is done, Michael gets up from the chair, buttons his pants and slowly moves into Alex’s personal space again.

“Ready to go?”

Alex smiles and presses a soft kiss to Michael’s lips.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

FIN

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #my fic

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