#he can die for it but also refusing to lay his ego down for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calehenituse-brainrot · 2 years

Note

Whenever you have the time, may I request a calexreader fic that takes place after the whole heart-stabbing fiasco? I just think it has great emotional potential for reader-who-knows-what's-going-on/going-to-happen-but-is-still-a-lil'-distraught-over-it and I think your writing has the range and depth to really nail it. Love your work~<33 But again! Only if you have time, if you want to, etc,etc! Take care of yourself first!

HELLO BABEYYY im so sorry it took me this long to pick this one request up! and thank you so much omg, i usually just write what comes in my head so this lowkey boost my ego <33

i hope you don't mind me making it to be about transported!reader ?

i genuinely believe cale would never let reader know that he was planning to stab his own heart so my small brain told me to just run with the transported!reader concept.

this was a bit hard to write because after those moments, cale did not catch a break at all so i had to made up a time where they both can speak before hell unleashes upon our unlucky bastard

edit: LMAOOO i didn't see that you requested the after scenario so i made before and after im so sorry

TRIGGER WARNING : self inflicted wound (he stabs his own heart), is the urge to vomit something that needs a tw? also this is LONG as fuck.

"You're a stubborn person till the end."

You nearly jumped when you heard Cale's voice berating you. You turned around, holding a stack of documents in your chest. You saw him standing there with a hand on his hip and a frown on his face, Raon floating beside him.

"I came here to check up on you after what had happened," Cale began. "And I see you still working. Even my father, a grown man, has fallen asleep. My mother is looking after him."

"It is something I need to personally handle."

Cale frowned. You were lying. What are you handling in the middle of the war? Everyone is bustling around and knowing you, you would probably be one of the busiest people too.

Why are you in here, dealing with measly paperwork that can be done later after this whole thing is done?

"Little [Name], you should be resting!" Raon berated you as well, floating around you to look at your condition, which thankfully cannot be seen since you were wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

"The only person who will die at the end of this war is you if you keep this up," Cale told you, watching as you place a hand on the Duke's desk to prop yourself up.

Since you work closely with Duke Deruth and followed him everywhere, Sayeru had no choice but to take you as a hostage as well, which caused suspicions to rise quickly towards the White Star who had disguised himself as Duke Deruth.

When asked where you were, the White Star posing as Duke Deruth had said that you were "a bit dizzy and had to take some rest", something that immediately had Cale alert because just like you knew him best, he knew you too.

You were a stubborn person who'd overwork themselves if it meant keeping the original story consistent. Even after Duke Deruth had rested after being kidnapped, you were still moving around and working as if the devil was chasing you.

"I'm fine." You waved your hand towards Cale dismissively. "Other than that, I suppose you will be going to that person posing as Hillsman?"

Cale nodded, nearing you and taking the document from your hand gently. You let him do so, letting out a tired sigh when Cale placed the documents on the table.

"Are you okay?" Cale whispered quietly. He wasn't able to check on your condition and judging by how you had immediately gone into work, there's a huge chance you refused medical check-ups.

"I'll be fine." You breathed out, leaning back to the desk.

But you aren't. You're tired, both physically and mentally. Your whole body aches and you want to lay down on the floor and just sleep, but despite your body being tired, your mind has never been rushing so much.

You can't rest when there are so many things you were going to handle. Not as the assistant of the former Commander, but as [Name] [Last Name].

Today was going to be the day you see this man -- someone you had spent the last few years with and shared so much memories with -- stab his own heart.

He'd live, and so will the trauma he'd cause to others. 'And maybe even me.'

"[Name]."

Cale was close. Very close.

He looked down at you, seeing the purple bruise that was peeking out of your collar. He doubted that you were fine. You had looked like a mess with your hair all over the place when they found you. Cale had an inkling you probably pissed some people off while being kept and it resulted in you being treated harshly.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?"

Cale looked straight to the window behind you. You spoke quietly, barely a mumble. You also sound defeated. Cale had a feeling you were mentioning about his plan, so he turned to Raon.

"Raon, please wait for me outside," Cale spoke to the dragon, not wanting the child to listen and figure out what he was planning.

"Little [Name], I hope you feel better! You need to rest!" Raon surprisingly did not fuss over leaving you both.

You both waited for Raon to leave before Cale answered you, "Will something go wrong?"

You let out a wry laugh. "Don't be silly. If something is gonna go wrong, I'll always let you know."

"Then why...?"

Cale glanced at you, seeing the frown on your face as you try to look somewhere else but him. Your hand that was propping you up to the table is now in a clenched fist -- Cale noticed that they were shaking.

You looked up at him, brows frowning deep and the corners of your lips shook, as if you were forcing yourself to try being silent.

"You--" You choked up on your own words. Dammit, why is this so hard? Just talk, [Name]!

Cale looked down at you, his reddish-brown eyes analyzing your expression and body language. No matter how much you try to hide from him, those eyes can always seek out the truth behind your facade.

You hated that skill of him sometimes. It meant that he can see through the strong personality you have been shaping for years -- he can see that you are weak and vulnerable.

But most times? You appreciate it. You like the fact that he can see through you for the first time in a while -- because that meant he can see that you struggle. He can seethat despite how you always push yourself to be headstrong, there are moments where you're so unforgivably human.

Like now.

You let out a sigh, gulping down the emotions on your heart, and let your forehead falls on his left shoulder.

"You look like shit."

'Her voice is shaking,' Cale thought. 'Will everything be alright later?'

When you arrived in this world until now, Cale still considers you as an enigma.

You've always been the one to have faith in him the most from the start. You always tell him that everything will go fine and that he's making the right choices, but the number of times that you fret over him and the others made him question whether that trust was real or not.

'No, she genuinely trusts us,' Cale thought. 'It's just within her nature to worry.'

Your eyes are open wide as you lay your forehead on his shoulder, staring at the black uniform that was dyed red from the power of the Blood-Drenched Rock and him coughing up blood.

"I am fine," Cale suddenly spoke up. "You know my condition better than anyone else."

You smiled, closing your eyes. "I do, don't I...?"

At the time you were reading the novel, you had been excited for this moment to arrive. You were restless as you read every sentence and were always at the edge of your seat, waiting for it to happen and the aftermath of it.

It was a fun experience.

But that was because it wasn't real. It was all just words on your screen. Cale Henituse isn't a living, breathing person. He was just a part of someone's imagination and they had shared it with the world.

"Then you should know I will be fine," Cale said, placing a hand on your shoulder. He did not pull you close, but he simply lets his hand rest there.

The hand that was on your shoulder felt warm because Cale Henituse is a person. He's a living, breathing being that can feel pain. He's no longer words on a screen and he's no longer just your comfort character from a series.

This man is real.

"To be honest," you mumbled, which made Cale hummed a bit in reply. "I really don't like this method."

You looked down at where Cale was keeping the World Tree root dagger, which was in the pocket inside of his coat. You couldn't help but gulp slightly, thinking about what you should do later.

Cale was an unstoppable force. If he's already set on what he wanted to do, no one could stop him from doing it. Even if someone did found a way to stop him, Cale would probably find a way out of that situation as well.

"Me too," Cale replied, voice low. "But it does the job."

You let out a sigh. 'He's such a jerk.'

You didn't know when it started, but your mind had trailed off.

Seeing that Cale was moving according to the novel and his decision to stay silent was still the same, that meant everything is still following the original plot. 'That means he'll be fine.'

He'll be fine, so why the fuck are you like this?

You stared down at your hand that was by your side, noting how you were a bit trembling. You supposed you were still shocked from being abducted and your body was still sore and a bit bruised from how roughly they had treated you.

'But that treatment is nothing compared to what I've been through in the past,' you thought, closing your eyes and digging your fingernails deeper into your forearm. 'So what is shaking me up right now?'

"[Name], are you really fine?" Cale questioned you again, noting your trembling hands.

You let out a sigh and smiled. 'Right. It's because of this guy.'

You were someone distant and rather emotionless, you admit it. Had you been a mere citizen that only knew of Cale on the surface, you wouldn't mind him stabbing himself in the heart to kill the White Star and save the continent. It would make you feel a bit sad, but you'd think that 'it must be done'.

Because despite the people's touched hearts towards his actions, they do not know Cale Henituse.

They don't know about how much he'd stay in bed and the smile he would have when he woke up refreshed, they don't know that he would have the smallest of smiles on his lips as he watched the kids eat and talk about their day. These people do not know Cale Henituse, who hated lemonade teas but would still drink it if he was handed a cup.

They don't know that he could not turn away from starving children and the way he would get antsy when someone showed that they were in desperate need of help. He's a compassionate person who struggles to admit that side of him and yet never denies it.

But you do.

And so does the others -- Choi Han, Alberu, Raon, Eruhaben, and the others. They know.

But to the people that don't?

Cale Henituse will be "a hero who sacrificed himself for world peace". He will be a piece of history that most likely will never be forgotten and his journeys recorded to be taught to future generations, but no matter how much scholars read upon his stories, they would never, ever know him like you and the others do.

They will remember him as a hero, a savior, and so many more. But will they remember him as he is? Will they remember that despite his heroic acts, he is human as well?

'They won't,' you answered that question internally, gulping down the feelings that were slowly emerging in your chest. 'They will keep expecting him to do so much.'

You wondered since when the lines have been blurred -- since when did you start accepting them to be a part of your heart? You had made sure to lock it tight and be picky with who you let in.

'It seems even I'm not immune to his charisma,' you thought with a smile. Despite knowing what will happen and that Cale would be alright, your heart refused to stay calm and wanted you to walk back and forth and frustrate over the upcoming future.

"Do it right, okay?" You mumbled, hand slowly coming up and hovering above his heart. You closed your eyes and placed your palm there, feeling the erratic beating of his heart "And make it quick."

Cale nodded. "I will finish everything as quickly as possible."

You did not come here because you had work to do. You came here simply to distract yourself from the anxiety and horror of seeing this man in front of you stab himself.

You gripped at his uniform. "You're gonna be fine."

Hearing those words leave your mouth, Cale felt his body relaxed a bit.

Yes, he's going to be fine if you say he will.

"Kids, come here."

Alberu and Eruhaben were surprised to hear your voice. The two of them turned to you as well as the kids, though they were a bit reluctant, wanting to watch what Cale was about to do.

"Miss [Name]? I thought you'd be at the Duchy to rest," Alberu stated, confused. You ignored him, going down onto one knee and opening your arms to the kittens, holding them close.

"I came as fast as I could after dealing with something personal," you answered, making sure the kittens are facing you. "Your Highness, please pay attention to the orb. Eruhaben-nim, too."

Alberu and Eruhaben turned back to the orb quickly and you looked up, listening to the kittens in your arms began to mewl, whining about wanting to see Cale too but your hands were forcing them to look your way.

On placed her paw on your hand and that was when she realized that your hands were shaking. "[Name]...?"

She forced herself to turn around but a tall back appeared instead. Alberu had stood in front you and the kids, blocking them from the gory sight of Cale stabbing his own heart with the World Tree root dagger.

However, you were still able to look at the orb.

Your breath hitched, watching the way Cale's arm swung while holding the dagger. The edge of it punctured his chest deep to the point his hand was touching his chest.

He pulled it out and your eyes shook at the way the dagger was shrouded in his blood. Some of his own blood spurted from the hole on his chest, wetting his clothes.

"Ugh--!" You released On and Hong, covering your mouth when you felt bile begin to rise in your throat.

Once freed from you, the kittens raised their heads and urgently looked for Cale, Raon pulling on Eruhaben's clothes. "Gramps, why... why is our human like that? W-why is there--"

“Gramps! What happened?! The human seems fine right now!”

“Noona.”

Hong curled his body and grabbed On. On stayed quiet, unable to speak as she observed Cale on the orb.

His body was covered in blood and his chest was quite the mess, but his body was not shaking and his complexion looked fine. He was not stumbling and instead was standing up straight with a firm gaze.

"He... He'll be fine," you murmured, still looking down on and covering your mouth. "He's always like this. Making me worry for no damn reason."

You forced yourself to swallow the bile that was about to come up, your throat stinging and eyes watering in pain. You finally were able to stand up, dusting your trousers and stumbling to Alberu.

You picked up On who was pawing at Alberu's pants along with Hong. Your face was pale and you were sweating cold. "It's okay. He's going to be fine."

Everyone turned to look at the orb and you watch with a forced grin as the White Star's body was slowly turned into dust. You hugged the kittens close as you prepare your heart for what was to come next.

Cale watched you bow your head down respectfully to Zed Crossman. The King simply nodded and stepped away, letting you enter Cale's room.

He noticed how pale your face was as you enter. You stopped once you saw his face.

Cale decided to speak first. "It is as you said. I am fine."

Your lips tremble and you walked to his side, Cale's reddish-brown eyes observing how heavy and stiff your steps were until you finally arrived at the edge of his bed, sitting down.

Ron closed the bedroom door, watching Cale whose eyes were trained on you.

"I really don't want to see you like that again," you murmured, gripping at the sheets. Cale stayed quiet and you knew it was because he couldn't promise you anything.

"Can I see the scar?" You questioned him, glancing at his chest where he had stabbed himself. Cale touched that spot, feeling the bumpy scar warily. "It is not a good sight to see."

"Well, so was watching you stab yourself," you say, your voice showing how drained you were with everything. "Besides. There's nothing wrong with scars."

Cale fiddled with the collar of his shirt a bit before letting out a sigh of defeat. "You should say that to yourself."

"Both of us need to say that to each other," you corrected him, remembering that section of the novel where it was mentioned that back when he was Kim Rok Soo, he always wore long-sleeved shirts because his arms were covered with scars.

Cale grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and showing the scar on his chest.

He sees your eyes only looking at itfor a fleeting second before you looked somewhere else as if you didn't want to see it longer than that. Cale lowered his shirt slowly, watching you rub your eyes and letting out a groan. "I-I'm sorry, I just keep seeing you stab yourself..."

"I--" You let out a laugh, one that lacks any delight. "I can't believe you're still here. You're not dead."

"I am still alive, [Name]," Cale added. "And I will keep--"

Cale shuts his mouth almost immediately when your trembling, cold hand came up to touch his cheek. He now could see you properly.

You were frowning deeply and your [e/c] eyes are glossy and bloodshot, on the verge of spilling tears. Your lips were trembling as you stare at him. "You're such a fucking idiot."

Cale's eyes gaze at your expression. There was relief, frustration, and something tender and passionate in your eyes. You were going to cry but all he can think of was your gaze and the trembling hand on his cheek.

He found himself using Record to keep this image of you in his head.

You shuffled closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're going to be fine."

Cale could feel you shaking. Normally, he would try his best to calm you down and convince you that he was okay, but he couldn't think of anything else but the tender gaze in your eyes when you looked at him a few seconds ago.

'What... was that?' He thought. His mind scrambled to look for the other times you have ever looked at him that way to see if you had always view him that way.

No. You didn't have that gaze in the first few months you and Cale had been by each other's side, but it did appear slowly after a year had passed. You had also slowly been more fussy and considerate to him around that time.

Cale doesn't know if his body getting warm was because he had used Record or because he had been playing that record of you over and over again.

"I'm so glad you're fine, Cale," you murmured, hugging him close. "Please live for a long time for my sanity."

"Of course. We must live long with the kids peacefully," Cale replied slowly, his hands fiddling with the sheets on his lap. What should he do? Should he hug you back?

You unwrapped your arms around his neck and pulled away slightly. Your face and his were close, but your eyes were shut close and Cale sees the tear tracks on your face.

'Shit,' he thought. You had cried.

"Bastard," you sniffed, wiping away your tears.

"I am sorry."

"You're not."

Cale watched you slowly open your eyes, eyes gazing downwards before they slowly look up at him.

His reddish-brown eyes look at your [e/c] ones. He doesn't know what went to his mind when he decided to glance down at your lips for a second before looking back at you.

There was tension between the two of you, one that neither of you mind. Your hands were still trembling as you slowly place them on his shoulders.

You leaned forward a bit and--

Knock, knock, knock

You jumped upon hearing the knock, quickly standing up from the bed and fixing your clothes while Cale closed his eyes, taking a huge breath of relief. 'God, what just happened?'

"Hyung," Basen's voice called out from the other side of the door.

"It seems Young Master Basen had visited," Ron stated, having been silent and quite literally make his presence disappear from the start along with Choi Han who had been pursing his lips and standing stiff by the door.

You covered your mouth a bit, flushing red from embarrassment because you had forgotten about the Molan house patriarch and the swordsman while Cale scratched the back of his neck. 'Dammit, how did I forget about them?'

"Hyung." Basen called out again, his voice strained with urgency.

You gasped as you realize something. "Oh, no."

"Choi Han, open the door," Cale asked the tall man, watching him fumble a bit before opening the door.

Basen walked in and you rubbed your temple, ready to hear the bad news.

Cale stared at his younger brother and felt like the universe isn't going to be letting him rest soon.

#idk anymore #this felt rushed because it is #im so sorry anon #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #totcf #tcf cale #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse x reader

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polyghostfacehours · 3 years

Text

You and Stu convince Billy to play Healer and regret it once he power trips.

I don't know if it's bc Im high, but the thought of you and Stu playing FFXIV and convincing Billy to be healer bc you two suck so bad at it won't leave my head so here is something that literally no one asked for lol

Modern!AU where you guys play Final Fantasy XIV

Billy the Power-tripping Healer:

So, for the sake of this, you and Stu main DPS and Tank respectively. Billy didn't play XIV.

You've been needing a dedicated healer for your free company and were having trouble nailing down someone you could trust.

It's then that you have a crazy thought. Billy was meticulous, observant, and detail-oriented. He'd be perfect. You tell Stu as much.

You both laugh your asses off at this. Billy? Playing fucking Healer? There's no way his pride and ego would let him play a support class. Stu jokingly asks how you'd convince Billy and you jokingly reply with a "mad sloppy toppy". You both have a blast making fun of the idea.

"Tell ya what. You convince Billy to play our healer, and I'll pay your third of the rent this month." Stu snickers.

Oh. Game on.

So you start thinking about how to do so and you realize exactly how to do it.

Tell Billy the healer is literally the most important party member, the party member that shifts the tides of battle, and the one who decides who lives or dies.

Billy comes home and you set out on your mission.

Initially, Billy is vehemently against it. He's not playing the fucking support. Fuck that. If he did play your stupid game, it'd be as the leader ("that's not a job class Billy." "Dont care, didn't ask.")

But then you lay on the reasonings. Really gas him up. Talk about how smart he is and how playing healer is the most difficult role. Tell him how you have to have the brain power to pay attention to the enemies attacks, your party's health, what buffs are needed to be placed, what enemies need debuffing, etc etc.

This gets him slightly interested. You beg and beg until finally he gives it a try to shut you up. Success!

You and Stu get him to make a character and before long you're helping him practice in low level dungeons and at the practice dummies for his rotations.

Billy comes close to quitting a loooot. If he isn't immediately good at something, he gets mad. But you and Stu keep praising him like crazy whenever he does well and that felt too good to pass up right now.

And Billy gets good fast. Like crazy fast. To the point you and Stu actually get kind of jealous? Like how tf did he become a master healer in the span of like a week? He's able to pay attention to everything happening on screen at once so easily wtf.

And slowly, Billy begins realizing something.

He can be petty.

And this is where you and Stu begin to regret bringing him in.

Billy is a brutal healer. You follow his orders or you die.

A regular conversation in game goes like this:

-"Billy why the fuck didn't you heal me man?!"

-"Stu I told you 50 fucking times not to stand in the AOE. If you're gonna be a dumbass and not listen Im not wasting my MP pool on you."

-"I didn't see it!"

-"You didn't s-what do you mean you didn't see it!?!? It's a giant fucking glowing yellow line you dipshit!"

"Y/N you run ahead without me, you die. I'm not chasing your ass."

"Y-yes Billy..."

The power-trip this man feels. The fact that he has you and Stu's lives in the palm of his hand? The satisfaction of getting praised when he pulls clutch or you two begging for forgiveness when he lets you die for not listening or for simple revenge? Godly.

He also DOES end up becoming leader of your free company lmao. He furnishes the house and living room as he sees fit.

Billy refuses to play Miqo'te. No catboy!Billy for you and Stu 😔

#bill plays hyur bc he's fucking boring #(its okay Billy i play hyur too lmao)#stu absolutely makes a catgirl and he pretends to be a girl online to get free stuff crafted lmao #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface #poly ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher imagines

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wifekasa · 3 years

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hello! i really enjoy ur content and i read that ur requests are open, so is it okay if i can request something where levi and the reader had an argument, and the rest of the scouts are very aware of it because of the very cold and scary aura coming from them, and so the squad tries various ways to set them up so they can make up with another? thank you!!😁

a/n: ahh first of all thank you! second off, i love this idea omg 🙏 also the reader is another captain!!

levi x reader

“don’t die on me.”

cw: swearing, one kiss scene, mentions of death (barely)

The scouts immediately knew something was wrong when you entered the dining area. It was like there was a dark aura floating around your body that caused everyone within a 4 foot vicinity of you to scatter away like startled birds. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your back was hunched. You stalked into the room and sank down beside Hange who seemed rather unfazed by your cold attitude.

“Oi. Y/N. What’s up with the murderous look in your eye? I think you made the scouts shit themselves.” They chuckled, biting into their bread and looking at you with a hint of amusement twinkling in their eyes.

You lip twitched downward as you scoffed, “Ask shorty.”

Hange made a noise of surprise that you ignored, turning back to your food. You were not in the mood to be pestered. Picking at your food with distain, you tuned out the rest of the room. Due to this, you missed the short raven-haired man walking into the room with the same cold presence that you were amitting. You felt his eyes burning holes into your head but refused to look up, you didn’t wanna give that bastard the time of day.

Levi scoffed when you ignored him, grabbing his plate and settling down at the opposite end of your table. Hange nearly rolled their eyes at the pettiness the two of you were displaying.

Clearing their throat, the titan enthusiast spoke up, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up.” You both countered in sync, still refusing to acknowledge eachother.

The two of you were too stubborn to admit that you were wrong. Maybe neither of you were in the wrong but after the shouting match that took place last night, you didn’t feel like immediately making amends. You had tried to express to Levi how scared you were that he was going to die on one of these missions, however your tone was quite harsh and Levi misread it. He took it as you not having faith in his abilities which was a punch to the gut for the stubborn Captain. He in return, argued that you were running the same risk on missions and since you weren’t nearly as strong as him, you had an even higher risk of getting hurt. Frustrated that he insulted your abilities and didn’t see your point, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the blowup last night and it was now mid-afternoon the next day. You were in charge of training the scouts this afternoon and due to the anger boiling up inside of you, you put them through a particularly rigorous training course. All of them were clutching their sides and panting heavily when you finally dismissed them.

“Is it just me or does Captain Y/N seem a little harsh today?” Connie spoke up as he downed a glass of water.

“Yeah, that training course kicked my ass. I think they had a fight with Levi, I heard some of the soldiers talking about it.” Jean replied.

Sasha was quiet for a minute before she finally spoke up, “I have an idea!” She exclaimed with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s not good.” Armin commented quietly.

Later that night, Sasha had cornered you and told you there was scary noises coming from a broom closet and had asked for help checking it out. You reluctantly agreed, only because it was getting late and you wanted to get to bed. The two of you went to the closet, footsteps echoing across the quiet halls.

Entering the small room, you spoke, “Hmm. Sasha there’s nothing in here, are you sure-.” You got cut off due to the door being slammed in your face and locked shut.

Jiggling the handle aggressively, you yelled, “Sasha Braus I swear to god, if you don’t let me out of here it’s no bread for a week!”

Sasha gulped but stayed strong, hoping Armin was on his way with Levi. Ten minutes later, Armin showed up... without Levi. Sasha’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “Armin, where the hell is Levi?!”

Armin scratched the back of his neck, “He wouldn’t come. Said I should ‘get some balls and go look at the noise by myself’.”

Sasha sheepishly opened the door to a very angry Captain, crying as you yelled and told her she wasn’t getting bread for a week. You’d almost felt bad if it weren’t for the fact that several spiders decided to crawl up your leg while you were trapped inside the miserable closest.

The next day, you were in an even worse mood because of the broom closet accident. So, the scouts went back to planning the reunion of their two grumpy captains.

The new plan consisted of getting the two of you within ten feet of each other, which proved difficult. Eren and Jean would both ask for combat training from the two of you and hoped that maybe being close to each other would spark a conversation between you two.

However, the plan backfired when seeing eachother made the two of you even angrier so you both fought the boys aggressively which resulted in Jean and Eren laying on their asses as the two of you stalked off in seperate directions.

You were quite grumpy at this point, snapping at the smallest things and taking things out on the wrong people. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help it; it felt like everyone was trying to piss you off.

By now, Hange had grown tired of you and Levi’s negative energy and the beat-up scouts. So finally, they decided to step in.

They found you in your office working on paperwork and quickly grabbed your hand, rudely dragging you away from your work.

“What the hell Hange!” You exclaimed, trying to turn back to your work but Hange had a suprisingly strong grip.

“Sorry! But I need to show you this thing I’ve been working on. It’s urgent!” They explained as they pulled you through the halls. They stopped in front of a random room, opening the door and shoving you in.

“Oi, four eyes, where is the ‘urgent thing’ you needed to show me?” You gasped as you realized Levi was in the room that Hange had just thrown you into.

Levi’s eyes widened when he noticed you in the room and he started shaking his head, “Don’t you dare Hange-.”

SLAM.

Hange locked the door, leaving the two of you sitting alone in your tension. The silence was heavy as you avoided eye contact, plotting the many ways you could get back at the scientist for this later. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize Levi was staring at you till he spoke up.

“Do you ever plan to let us talk this out or are you just gonna be an angry brat for the rest of your life?” His tone was cold.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his grey ones, searching them for any emotion but you were met with nothing, his walls were up. “What is there to talk about? You made it clear how you feel.”

“How I feel?” He questioned.

“That I’m not strong enough for you. Maybe I’m not humanity’s strongest but I’m talented and that deserves to be recognized. I’m not gonna let you shit on my talent just because I hurt your ego. Which by the way, I don’t even know why you thought I was attacking your skills. I just want you to be safe and I don’t know why you can’t just- MHPM.” Your rant was cut off midway by the feeling of warm lips against yours.

You froze for a moment before returning the kiss, running your hands up into his hair and opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. Levi’s hands snaked around you waist, pulling you tight against his chest. This continued for a few more seconds before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

Levi spoke up, “I know you’re a talented soldier, it’s something I really respect about you. I shouldn’t have phrased it the way I did, I just... I don’t want to lose you. So, I want you to be the best because then, my chances of loosing you are less.” You looked at him in shock.

His grey eyes showed love and ... fear. The fear of loosing you like he’d lost so many. Your chest tightened at the sight. Tears pricked in your eyes as you pulled him into another hug.

“You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m gonna fight with everything I got to make sure I come home to you. You just make sure you do the same, don’t go dying on me.” Your speech was slightly muffled by his shirt but he nodded nonetheless.

“Yay! The lovebirds finally made up! Good! I was worried you were gonna kill the scouts.” Hange laughed from the other side of the now opened door.

a/n: this ain’t the greatest but i wrote it at midnight so yk 😐👋

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #levi imagine #levi oneshot #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman oneshot

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

Text

At the beginning of age of avengers, someone assumes that Tony is the leader and he corrects them and say that it’s Steve.

And that surprised me because I assumed that Steve and Tony were co-leaders, but no, Steve was CHOSEN as the leader of the avengers. I was about to say that Tony was second in command, but I’m assuming that’s Nat.

But, as surprised as I was about this revelation (I literally hadn’t seen the movie in 8 years until 3 days ago), it instantly made sense.

As much as the anti Steve crowd hates on Steve, on several occasions we’ve seen Steve not only inspire people, but also get them to follow him. After someone commits to following Steve, they’re typically loyal to him.

We do not see this with Tony.

The issue with Tony isn’t that he’s flawed and has trauma, it’s how he treats others and how he processes trauma. When you lash out at others, ignore them, insult them (for your own amusement); don’t consider anyone else, etc, you more times than not will alienate people who are ok your side or, at least, want to be. A person having trauma doesn’t excuse how they treat others. And there is only so long most will people up with that behavior before leaving, which is their right.

I believe the only person who stayed by Tony’s side no matter what was Happy. Tony and Rhodey commonly fought and Rhodey even sided against Tony as well. Pepper had to take a break from Tony due to his own actions.

People can forgive flaws, but often struggle to forgive habitual poor behavior and various transgressions that comes with it.

We cannot except people to respect Tony or want to follow when he makes a joke about the PTSD (Capsickle), their traditional clothes (Thor), job endangerment (Rhodey; Tony made a transphobic joke about an event that didn’t happen), as well as sexual remarks (Natasha). And that’s not all that he did. This goes beyond being flaws, especially when you’re supposed to work with these people and they’re allegedly your friends.

He also doesn’t tell anyone about his trauma and OFTEN deflects, which may include insults or cracking inappropriate jokes. No one should have to deal with that all because someone is traumatized, especially as ALL OF THEM are dealing with their own and equally valid trauma.

Comparatively, Steve does not do that.

The people who work with Steve and are friends with him take him seriously. They support him and he supports them.

We see this going back to the 1940s. Peggy believed in Steve based off of his resilience and faith of convictions. She challenges him when he accepts his current circumstances.

After Steve saves literally over 400 men by himself, he earns the respect of not only colonel Phillips, but the men he saved as well. When he says he wants to pick his own team, in addition to the wish being respected, the chosen men flat out say that they’d follow Cap anywhere.

This must be stressed: these men were held prisoner and knew they’d encounter the most dangerous weapon and men in the entire war and readily agreed because Captain America asked.

In winter soldier, Steve is declared a criminal and is on the run. When he breaks into the shield headquarters, he gives his speech and EVERYONE minus hydra agents refuse to launch the coded because Captain America explain to them that some dangerous shit was going down. They believed his word because his actions and his character is THAT respected.

See the trend here: people listening and following Steve because they believe he’s genuine and wants to do what’s right.

In age of ultron, we hear a reference that he was chosen as leader. The events in this movie proves why Steve was chosen and Tony wasn’t.

Whether or not you believe Tony was right to crested ultron, he still should’ve told his team what Wanda made him see AND explained why he wanted to create this tech/weapon. Instead, he deliberately kept it a secret and pressured Bruce into helping him. Ironically, despite the claims that Steve feels like he knows that’s best, this is exactly what Tony assumes.

Let’s be clear: not only are Steve, nat, Bruce, hawk eye, and Thor adults, they are also avengers as well. They don’t need Tony to protect them and they all of the capabilities of deciding if they want to do something dangerous and risk their lives. And it’s ego centric as hell for him to actually believe that Steve, of all people, would guilt him by saying he should’ve saved them. Steve wouldn’t have done such a thing both saying that or even making Tony feel bad if he did all he could do.

Despite creating his murder bot due to not consulting his team because he knew they’d say no, Tony did it AGAIN.

Again, where’s the leadership? Where’s the accountability? Where’s the understanding that he may not like the answer, but he does owe it to his team to talk to them? And, again, he thinks he knows what’s best.

What does Steve do in this same movie? The twins start fighting besides him, which he doesn’t interfere with because ultron is the bigger threat. But, rather than fight them like his instinct tells them, he stop and listens to what they have to say.

I want to note that people like to say (and some are thinking), it’s good that Tony built what eventually became ultron, well, it’s good that Steve extended a hand to the twins. They also played a huge role in why the world didn’t lose half its popular, which was a consequence of Steve’s decision making.

Once Steve heard them out and was willing to let them into the fold, he defended them when other avengers tried to attack them. He didn’t leave them out to dry.

Then, when the actual fight happens Tony reveals a few minutes in that they have no other options but to abandon civilians and let them die.

Steve flat out refuses that as an option and makes the PERSONAL decision to stay until every civilian is safe. Not one person will be left to die.

I don’t know about anyone else, but Steve comes off as the clear leader and Tony doesn’t.

What happens next is that literally every current avenger and the twins stay to help. Nat literally tells Steve that this would be a beautiful place to die and explicitly says she’s fighting alongside him.

Whether or not Steve spoke to people, he inspired them to follow him by his actions.

Who is inspired to follow Tony?

Tony flirts with retirement, which no criticism against that.

But, alongside nat, Steve personally trains Sam, Rhodey, and Wanda for team avengers. After accepting Wanda into the fold, he treats her life everyone else.

In civil war, Steve was hands on with wandas training so she could control her power and made sure was protected. He accepted responsibility for not accounting for unforeseen threats, such as the explosives and explained to Wanda the realities of their job. He was realistic with her, but used that as motivation as to why they should strive to be better. Steve was outraged when he found out that she was locked up and freed her from Tony’s unlawful imprisonment.

Even if someone argues she should be locked up, Tony did not talk to her. Wanda didn’t consent to being confined to the house. This is another example of believing he knew what was best for people rather than talking to them and seeing how they feel. He isn’t giving others the right to make informed decisions for themselves and in general.

Steve, on the other hand, consistently considers what people feel because he TALKS to people. He has meaningful conversations with people, such as nat and Sam. Steve formed connections to people, which made them feel close to him.

But, let’s circle back to Tony, he takes a MINOR without the explicit consent of his guardian. Not only does he take Peter without May’s permission, he takes Peter OVERSEAS and to fight at that.

To make matters worse, Peter doesn’t know WHY he’s fighting or what for.

Where’s the oversight or accountability in any of that?

During the fight, someone flat out asks how old Peter is. Tony follows up after the fight, during homecoming, with almost inviting Peter to stay at the avengers compound. As a reminder, Peter was still a literal teenager and Tony still DID NOT ask peter’s guardian if this was okay.

Where as Steve explicitly tells people what they are getting into. He lays out what to expect and that you have a choice in it. Steve never pressures people into helping him and they usually volunteer. And, whatever happens afterwards, he’s there for them.

How was Tony’s mentorship with Peter?

He’s not actively involved with Peter after taking him in as a mentee, pawns him off in Happy, thinks at status reports are sufficient, and ignored Peter’s concerns. Peter was a minor who just had the most surreal experience of his life and Tony doesn’t think this kid would be amped and itching to do more?

Tony doesn’t think Peter might need some hands on mentorship? Tony thought he could mentor from afar with updates and camera footage, but it actually engage.

Them damned accords!

Tony signed the document due to guilt and tried to get others to sign it despite him being mostly responsible for why the accord even exist or, at least, did a lot of shit that is now being penalized. I’m not sure if he actually read it OR if someone summarized the point.

Whereas Steve DID read the accords and his stance wasn’t one of guilt, but concern and ethical issues with what’s in the accords. Steve was prepared to retire because his beliefs didn’t align with what was being asked of him and others. He didn’t ask anyone to back or follow him.

But, people do eventually back him and follow his lead. They know exactly what they’re getting into. And, despite knowing the risks and eventually getting arrested, they stick to their convictions.

When Tony finds out that Bucky killed his parents, despite knowing that Bucky was brainwashed for LITERALLY decades, he tries to kill him. When cap realizes this, he constantly tries to neutralize Tony.

Let’s go back. Steve knowing that Bucky needs to be arrested, decides to save Bucky both for Bucky’s protection AND so those trying to bring him in doesn’t get hurt/killed. Once Bucky is safely arrested, Steve lets the situation go.

Oh, before I really get into infinity wars, there is no mention of Wanda harming other people even accidentally. :)

Tony, as usual, ignores what others wanted, like strange, and think he knows what’s best. He plans to fight thanos henchman by himself as well as thanos completely ignoring the concept of teamwork. (He also jumps to insulting others for his own shits and giggles—keep in mind, these are people he doesn’t know).

What does Steve do?

He was successfully on the run with nat and Sam and they worked together as a TEAM to save vision. They then meet up with rhodey and formulate a plan as to how to stop thanos. Steve coordinates with various people to have the battle in Wakanda. He doesn’t assume he can fight thanos by himself or should.

Steve refuses to trade lives because every life is valuable.

When the Snap happens, Tony fucks up into his cabin in the woods and lives his life.

And what does Steve do?

Run a support group to keep hope alive for people who are trying to see the best in a shitty situation.

He stays an avenger and does whatever needs to be done because he’s there to serve the people regardless of the despair he feels.

Don’t get it twisted, Steve is not perfect, but he constantly led by example, put the wants and needs of others before himself, was a hands on mentor, listened and supported others, and refused to leave anyone behind and/or die. He was always willing to be the only man fighting the battle and even to die for his beliefs.

And this man is called selfish by some.

Where as Tony consistently believed he knew what was best for others, was willing to let people die, was a shit mentor, mocked and ridiculed others, put his own feelings first, etc.

And this is seen as a leader???

Let’s not forget that dangerous tech he left to a MINOR after he died. Peter was so overwhelmed by the responsibility, he gave it to the first person who listened to him and who he believed to be responsible. This isn’t a condemnation of people. Again, his a literal minor—15 or 16. Who is overwhelmed about the shit stark left on his shoulders.

When old cap spoke to Sam, he gave AN ADULT, his shield. One with loved experiences and who knew how to handle complicated feelings. He knew what Sam was willing to handle and could handle.

And another thing: the fact that people were willing to go on the run with Steve says a lot. This is the second time Steve has been on the run and people, Sam and nat, were willing to follow him and assist (both times).

Tony couldn’t even get people to stay faithful to the legal accords. Rhodey said peace out as soon as cap returned. Nat abandoned Tony to join Steve. Vision questioned his life choices, and then went black to be with Wanda. And Peter didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

And Tony stans think he should’ve been leader based off of using his money for the avengers and giving them a place to crash.

LOL!

People want Wanda to apologize to Tony for invading his mind when he should apologize for her parents dying. If you’re a weapons manufacturer, there’s no such thing as believing only the “good guys” will use your weapons. You know your weapons could and will get into the wrong hands. And you also know that without war, you’d be out of a job. But, also the “good guys” are usually imperialist who fuck over other countries as they undermined these government structures to steal resources from them and other shit.

Just because starks stopped manufacturing weapons doesn’t mean he can escape accountability for what his weapons did to others.

Tony also ratted out that Clint had a family and was fine with them being jailed because they took the “wrong” side. Did he apologize to any of these people? The ones he had jailed and the ones who were forced to go on the run for a bill he supported, and then admitted was fucked up? (The same law he later broke twice.)

But, he’s a leader???

#pro captain america #pro steve rogers #steve rogers defence club #Steve rogers #Captain America #pro tony stark #pro iron man #anti tony stark #anti tony stans #anti iron man #for every post I see mistagged I’m mistagging my own #if I can’t peruse the Steve tags without anti mess you can’t do that with the Tony tag #:)#childish but I don’t care

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag *warning this chapter might hurt*

Staring out through the windshield of his car, his darkened home was the picture-perfect mirror of the pain settling into his soul. Inuyasha had no idea how he’d even managed to make it home without driving off a cliff or plowing himself into a stone wall, because his body and mind were completely numb.

‘Read’ but not answered…

Was it a good sign that the woman at least looked at it? Inuyasha rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. He’d fucked up… again— just like the night of the accident. His eyes squeezed tighter shut as the emotional pain of everything slammed him with the force of a freight train. This was bad… bad, bad, bad… “FUCK!!” He roared into the still night air. With Kagome’s memories coming back, she’ll remember everything, and it was over. He’d had this second chance to reverse all the damage and he went and fucked it up again.

Not surprisingly, Kagome didn’t respond to his first text, so he typed out a final message for the night: ‘You’re mad at me. I get that so I’ll give you some space but I just wanna say good night Kagome. I love you -Inu’

‘Read’ but not answered…

It was all he could do for now, his only solace knowing Kagome had her mother to comfort her. Inuyasha sighed, long and deep as he pulled the keys from the ignition and dragged himself into his home. His body felt heavy with exhaustion. A weight crushing him down like a boulder. It took all he had to just drop his keys to the floor beside the entrance and shuffle into the bedroom instead of falling right then and there. He didn’t want to move anymore. He deserved the silent darkness of this tomb-like home along with its judgmental echoes of the life it once held.

The next morning after a restless sleep, Inuyasha called out of work. When would he be back, he couldn’t answer them? Part of him didn’t care anymore. Fire him, it wouldn’t matter to the walking dead. Miroku called in concern for his friend, but Inuyasha let it go to voicemail. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now, not when he knew it would have a ring of ‘I told you so,’ mixed in. That wasn’t necessary. Didn’t he feel bad enough?

A good morning text sent… left on Read…

An apology text….

Another apology text…

Voice messages left randomly through the day…

All left on Read and unanswered.

The anxiety filled hours ticked on with Inuyasha left curled up in a ball under his blanket. He’d done a number on his living room to physically release the anger he felt at himself, and now he was just dead to the world. All the drapes were tightly closed to the sunlight outside and he only left his bed to attend to bathroom matters. He didn’t wanna give up all hope, but with his mind in tatters and thoughts only of despair, there was nothing left to cling to.

By nightfall Inuyasha was convinced Kagome had truly given him up and he couldn’t blame her for it. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. There was no denying it. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Just like before, instead of using his ears to listen, he responded with ego when he had no right to chastise her over not telling him something. The whole reason he was in this mess is because he never listened to her when it mattered the most— and there in lay the heart of it all. Neither of them had the opportunity to talk about what caused the original fight or process what drove Kagome to leave. Inuyasha thought he’d understood its origins and accepted responsibility for it, but clearly, he was wrong, and this new situation is most certainly what would have taken place if Kagome hadn’t crashed her car— a debilitating depression.

If Kagome didn’t want him anymore, then there wasn’t anything left for him in this world as far as Inuyasha was concerned. His yoki called out for her, wept for her loss, and with it all the energy in his soul to care slipped away. He was simply empty without her. No appetite or desire or thirst, just an ocean of dread, and waves of numbness dulling all his senses.

How much time had elapsed, how many days gone by? The clock ticked away hour by hour like a death knell with Inuyasha simply waiting for a release to come. All the messages left on his phone were from everyone other than the one person who could have brought him out of this funk. But her ringtone never came. It is what is it. Was it day four? Five? Six? Inuyasha couldn’t tell, but feeling his body starting to let go, he decided to send one last message to Miroku before shutting off the phone for good.

At the Hoshii residence, Miroku and Sango were on edge dealing with the crisis. Sango had been doing her best to help Kagome to cope with her pain, but Miroku was growing frantic over Inuyasha’s refusal to answer him. He’d driven by the man’s home and knew the car was there, and that was it. No one answered the door and with all the curtains closed he couldn’t see inside. Finally, on day five while they were visiting with Kagome, Miroku heard his phone ping with a message.

Inuyasha: thanks for being a good friend. Tell her she was the only one I’ve ever loved

“What the hell?” Miroku blurted out as he mulled the message over and over in his head.

Sango rushed over at the concern in her husband’s voice. “What is it?!”

“I think that idiot is planning to kill himself— I better… I better go.”

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Higurashi also came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about a message Inuyasha just sent,” Sango explained as her husband was digging around in his small pouch and grabbing his car keys. “Miroku is gonna check on him.”

“What did it say?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

So, Miroku showed the woman his phone. “It doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, dear!” She reached for a jacket near the front door. “I’m coming too! Sango will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll be here with Kagome. You two go.”

It was a good thing that Miroku had held onto a spare key to Inuyasha’s home that he’d been given and simply forgotten to return. When he and Mrs. Higurashi walked through the door, chills crawled over his skin. It was evident that the house had been closed-up for several days, no windows opened, or ventilation, just a silent graveyard feeling with a fog of musty air mixed with the scent of rotting kitchen garbage and body odor. It was revolting and only heightened the pairs concern for the occupant.

“Inuyasha?!” Miroku yelled as they made their way through the dark home but received no response. The man wasn’t in the living areas or bathroom, so the logical option was the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘Please be alive,’ he prayed.

Once inside the room, they could see an unmoving body underneath the blankets and if the buildup of body odor told a story, it was sure to be his friend underneath those covers. “Inu?” Still no response.

Mrs. Higurashi turned on the bedroom light, and the brightness finally caused the blanket to shift ever so slightly. “Oh, thank heavens,” she gasped out in relief as she held a hand to her chest. He was still alive.

Miroku rushed over and yanked the blanket off. “Inuyasha!” Tears instantly gathered in the panicked man’s eyes. The state of his friend was heart breaking. Inuyasha had lost weight. His skin was gaunt and pasty white, hair matted and dirty. “Oh, fuck, we— we should call emergency!”

“No…” Inuyasha croaked out and buried his face deeper under his arm. “Let me die.”

“Fuck no, you idiot! Kagome still needs you!”

“Better… off… without me…”

‘Seriously?!’ It was rare for Miroku to get so upset, but in that moment, the anger that bubbled up to surface took over and his arm flew up ready to strike his friend. “You stupid—!!”

“Don’t!” Mrs. Higurashi yelled at Miroku. “He needs help, not anger right now.”

That seemed to snap Miroku out of his emotions, but the tears broke free. It was hard to see his friend in this position, just so frail— nothing like the tough hanyo that he’s known for years. Even after the death of his mother, Inuyasha didn’t break down this badly. Miroku grit his teeth to his own pain and pushed forward. “You idiot. Dying isn’t gonna help Kagome. So, whether you like it or not, we’re gonna help you.”

Mrs. Higurashi now moved around the bed to where she could sit beside Inuyasha. Her own eyes were clouded too, but the woman pulled on all the strength she could muster to hold it together. She placed a hand on the arm he was using to cover his face. “Inu, Miroku is right. Kagome is hurting just as much as you, and I don’t think you’d want to cause her anymore heart ache by going out this way.”

“But she hates me…” Inuyasha whimpered weakly. “Please just let me go.”

Mrs. Higurashi had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back her tears. Her heart broke for the man. Gently, she pulled his arm down, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Inuyasha, you’re like a son to me, and I won’t let me son die. We’re gonna figure this out, but you need to live please, for her, for all of us that cares about you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes cracked open just a tad. “I’m so, sorry,” he mumbled. “So… sorry…”

She kept her voice as soothing as possible. “I know, and so does Kagome.” Mrs. Higurashi then turned to Miroku. “Do you think you can get him into the shower and clean him up? I’ll make something for him to eat. He needs something in his stomach immediately.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do it.”

It took both of them to help Inuyasha into the bathtub. He was so emaciated and dehydrated, that he had no strength left in his body, just dead weight. While Mrs. Higurashi left them to deal with the kitchen, Miroku stripped his friend of clothing and ran a bath to bathe him. Inuyasha offered no resistance, just a few tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha kept repeating.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save it for Kagome. I can’t believe you’d think we’d be okay with you dying! You’re my best fucking friend you asshole! I want my kids to grow up with their uncle!”

“But I keep screwing up.”

“And that’s life. It ain’t the end of the world yet.”

“Feels like it.”

“Whether you believe us if not, Kagome is hurting cause she in love with your stupid ass too. You can still fix this.”

“Don’t know how.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Thank you…”

Inuyasha’s eyes started to roll back, so Miroku slapped him hard in the face. “Oi! Don’t you be dying on me now! So, wake the fuck up!”

“So… tired…”

“Gonna clean you up and momma Higurashi will get your strength back, so hang on just a little longer…”

Now cleaned up and dressed in something comfortable, they prop Inuyasha up in a recliner since he was still struggling to hold up his own body weight. He simply had no reserves left to draw from and under human standards wouldn’t have lasted this long. A hospital was better equipped to deal with this kind of situation. Inuyasha should have been put on IV fluids to hydrate him faster along with special supplements pumped directly into his system because after this long, the organs would have started to shut down, and his stomach would struggle to process anything. But Mrs. Higurashi made due to honor his request, starting with a bland rice water chicken broth of starch, proteins, and vegetable nutrients to re-prime it slowly. She also sent Miroku to the store to purchase drinks with electrolytes given to infants when they are dehydrated. It was a painstaking process to feed Inuyasha spoonful by spoonful.

“I need you to help me fight Inuyasha,” the woman coaxed the weakened hanyo. “So, you can live through this and see Kagome again.”

Tears flooded Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Kagome’s name. “After everything, why would you still want me around her?”

“Because you love her, and she loves you, and as long as there’s love it can find a way. Son,” she placed a hand on his, “I know it feels like the end of the world, but it will get better if you want it to. Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Her hand now gripped his tightly as her expression grew determined. “Then fight for it!”

It took several bowls of soup before gradually Mrs. Higurashi started giving Inuyasha fish and small pieces of chicken meat to eat. She had to stick to easily digestible foods, but at least his coloring was improving, and he could feed himself now. The sun has already set, by the time Inuyasha could finally stand up on his own.

“You’re lucky you’re a hanyo. That’s what’s probably saved your life.” Miroku expressed to his friend.

“I know.” Inuyasha could feel his demon half working harder to regenerate his physical body. Though while his body was recovering, his heart still felt broken. They kept telling him that Kagome still loved him so there is hope, but a part of him struggled to believe it. He’d already hit such a low point, to suffer rejection now was almost too unbearable to even comprehend.

Miroku continued talking. “Inuyasha, you’re not gonna do this alone. We will be there to support both of you, but it’s time you confront this. You and Kagome need to talk… about everything— even though she may not remember, a lack of communication is exactly what triggered this whole situation.”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed.

“All couples go through struggles,” Mrs. Higurashi added with a comforting tone in her voice. “A strong relationship doesn’t come from a having a perfect one, Inuyasha. It’s developed through adversity. How well a couple can take the challenges thrown at them and grow from it.”

“You remember what happened with me and Sango, we almost didn’t make it because of my bad behaviors…”

“Your damn womanizing,” Inuyasha cut in.

“Yeah, that,” Miroku grumpily agreed. “She had to give me a harsh ultimatum to wake me up. But I did, and now look at us. This is your harsh moment, and you can choose to wake up, or loose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Inuyasha ran a hand down his face. “Of course, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Then are you ready to see Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

Inuyasha exhaled slowly. “Ready? No…” he was terrified to face the woman. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

#inukag #inuyasha #inukag au #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #kagome higurashi #missing memories #ch 11 #petri808

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flowerflamestars · 4 years

Note

Let's ask the hard questions here, baby. What do you think the series would have been like had it been Nesta Archeron under the mountain?

BABE this is it-this is the best question I’ve ever been asked.

For one thing, chaotic. For another: I think the simple substitution reframes the whole structure of the narrative. It’s not about a journey to power that fights Evil Tyranny (abused Human to Hero to High Lady).

It’s a story about the people working around, beside, under the powerful Lords- and the difficult choices they make. Less Hero’s Journey more, Look, These Are the Real Heroes.

Let’s start with Spring. We know now that the whole you killed a faery now you have to come to faeryland thing was an insanely shitty ruse. So maybe Andras is still alive. Maybe Feyre killed him and Nesta successfully protected her sisters. Maybe Tamlin is just a twat and went that one is pretty. ANYWAY-

Nesta gets to Spring. Lucien doesn’t immediately despise her, for, you know, murdering and skinning his only friend (a handy sublimation of the anger he can’t express against his High Lord). Nesta was raised in the fucking gentry and Nesta can play the game- it’s a question of willingness.

Feyre is a lot more willing to roll with weird circumstances for caution. Nesta is, to her bones, an aggressor. Empty manor doesn’t add up? She’s going to say something so cutting, and so infuriating to Tamtam she ends up seeing all the faeries. She steels herself, refuses to be afraid of Alis, and asks questions. (See, Nesta’s first IC dinner, zeroing in on the scariest faery and refusing to flinch)

At some point, there’s a confrontation.

But it’s not between Nesta and Tamlin. Now, in canon Tamtams is extremely willing to drag his feet on the curse. In this version, that is so much worse- sure, he’s into Nesta (Nesta, recall, just looks like sharper Feyre), but Nesta takes one look at this fragile immortal man child and roasts the shit out of him. What’s he going to do? Kill her? Negates all the stupid trouble he went to. Punish her? He clearly needs her for something.

Tamlin cannot handle that. There are no Romantic Moments. Nes spends calanmai watching faeries do weird shit out her window. She sure as fuck doesn’t drink faery wine and dance for Tamlin at the solstice. It is not happening.

So Nesta spends a lot of time alone, wandering around. Talking to Lucien, Alis, random-ass faeries out of sheer reckless ego, reading every book in the ugly manor.

Nesta confronts Lucien. I’m going to go with after the wingless dead faerie and the head in the garden. The stupid blight conversation.

This works differently and better than Feyre’s attempts to get more information for I think, two important reasons. 1) Lucien and Nesta speak the same language in acotar. It’s all anger babes- sharp edged, sexy, bullshit. There’s no cycle of forgiveness then softening- they are the same, too the same, tired and self-hating survivalists bored out of their minds in a gilded death trap.

and 2) Nesta and Feyre are quintessentially perceived differently. Feyre is hopeful- tenacious, young, free. She shakes up things for these old ass faeries and gives them something to believe in. It’s youth for the eternally young.

Nesta...is not that. She gets under your skin, forever. Multiple faeries meet her throughout the books and have very extreme reactions to that- but what matters at this point, as a mortal- Nesta reads as an adult. She’s immune to glamour. Her strength isn’t kindness or an open heart, it’s fucking steel that might take your last breathe.

And look, Lucien would respond to that. Tamlin...isn’t even talking to the girl his people died to get him. The curse is almost over and they’re all going to get tortured. Nesta, has, from day one, known something is wrong- she’s so angry, and it makes it easier for Lucien to be angry.

It’s not hunting bros who become Real Friends, it’s fire and gasoline. Empowerment.

So, I haven’t read acotar in ages- but I’m pretty sure they literally couldn’t tell her about Tamlin’s curse. But Lucien can communicate around the magical fuckery- there’s a great evil. The kids in Winter are all dead because of another High Lord.

And look, Nesta cares about dead kids. She even, begrudgingly, cares about Lucien. She does not give a single flying fuck about the High Lords.

But Lucien, in this world, is the first one to say it: Hybern.

Amarantha is Hybern’s general, and Hybern wants all of Prythian. All of it.

Nesta is absolutely going to walk into the fire to keep the humans- and by extent, her sisters- safe from faeries.

Tamlin- because he does not love Nesta- doesn’t send her away. Doesn’t crush any savage hope Lucien harbored, doesn’t do shit. He gives up.

And so Spring is dragged beneath the Mountain.

Nesta has exactly two advantages on her side: she can see through glamour, so she’s not 100% disoriented and vulnerable (just..you know, terrified), and sheer force of will.

Amarantha likes will. She likes to break it, and there are so few real contenders left after her victory.

Nesta doesn’t bargain- Nesta doesn’t beg for Tamlin’s life and love- she asks to win her own.

Amarantha wants to crush her like a bug. Insignificant little human- but wouldn’t it be more fun to watch each little crack form?

So she gets the riddle. Tamlin’s power is thrown in like the boring chekovs gun that it is. Lucien (probably) gets beat up because Lucien always gets beat up under the Mountain.

Nesta has two choices: she can answer the (stupidly cliched, easy) riddle right there, and try to walk out. (Nesta knows she’s not making it out alive). Or she can wait, and play the game. (She’ll be damned if she doesn’t take that insane bitch and maybe Tamlin down with her. Her only ally is Lucien and he’s being hauled off with a bleeding headwound soo..)

Nesta lets herself be dragged away. She doesn’t fight.

Let us remember again, that the Archeron sisters are built like a triptych. A presumable almost mother maiden crone. They look alike, especially Nesta and Feyre. If Rhysie boy thinks Feyre is hot at first glance, guess what he also thinks about Nesta?

So, yes, of course he goes to offer a deal. And let’s be clear on something- when Feyre hated Rhysands guts, what did he like about her? That she was beautiful, absolutely didn’t give a fuck, and what’s that? Fought with him.

She lets him heal her, but then- Nesta won’t even talk to him. Nothing he does works. They come to agreement (which Rhysand finds fascinating, a human with loyalty, that human heart) that Nesta will listen to Rhysand’s offer if and when, he delivers to her a whole, safe, Lucien Vanserra.

Rhys frames this as emotional torture. Incentive. He doesn’t need to play evil as well- Nesta hates fucking faeries. And she knows he killed a bunch of children.

So Lucien gets thrown in the cell. Minimally healed. About to embark on the misery train, self-deprecating laughter at the fact he’s healed, now, because of Nesta.

Lucien: so nice of you to make sure we’re all pretty before we die, Archeron. Final night spent huddling for warmth together?

Nesta: Shut up. Shut up- tell me why the fuck Rhysand would be trying to make a deal with me.

They come to the conclusion that, while Rhysand is a monster, he also has no control of his own. He’s completely under Amarantha’s thumb, and apparently, wants out.

Nesta, because she always goes for the jugular, has another thought: Are you really going to go back to Spring after this? He gave up. He gave up and you were rotting in a cell.

Lucien, to whom Nesta is both gasoline and mean friend catnip, but who is also a Sad Boi: where else can I go?

So they make a plan. Rhysand thinks Nesta is the key to killing Amarantha? Cool, Amarantha needs to die. Tamlin is the only High Lord who has access to his power more readily? Tamlin needs to do the killing.

What does Nesta want? There to be no Hybern coming to burn the land where her sisters live. To go back, to go home- but Nesta doesn’t think, even for a second, she’s really going to make it out alive. And if she does, as she thinks late at night, of Feyre’s laugh, or Elain’s quiet humor- how will it ever be safe? They live on the Wall.

Nesta is known to faeries now- Nesta is infamous, and there’s nothing to stop anyone, should her presence lead them back to her home.

Nesta privately decides Tamlin should die too.

So when the time comes, and Rhysand is like, I’ll protect you, you’ll be mine and you’ll be healed- Nesta says no. Nesta, because she really has never learned to back down- looks dead in the eye of the High Lord of Night, the monster who sleeps beside Amarantha and says: safe passage.

She’ll do what Rhys wants, for this: Lucien Vanserra’s safe passage to a safe place, and for Rhysand to promise not to get in her way when she answers the riddle.

Rhys still wants her to come to the Night Court- for whatever nebulous reasons he wanted Feyre to...which only make sense AFTER she’s changed by the High Lords...which Rhysie couldn’t have known, BUT ANYWAY- Nesta says yes. She doesn’t expect she’ll be alive to pay.

Lucien sulks back to Tamlin’s side, and spends a few weeks between challenges laying it on thick. A quiet whisper that grows, a perfect stroke to Tamlin’s volatile ego. How dare Amarantha, how dare Nesta- Tamlin is a Lord, Tamlin is Spring- Tamlin, who has suffered so much more than the other Lords, deserves his power back.

Nesta is dragged out for the final challenge.

In one of the long, dangerous hallways, her guards look the other way for just a moment- for a visitor. The High Lady of Autumn knows her son is safe because of this girl.

She hands Nesta a knife. A small gift- all she can. Steel, not ash, small enough it will go unnoticed.

Nesta is dragged before the throne, before the High Lords, Tamlin and Amarantha, Rhysand.

Nesta answers the riddle.

And when Amarantha refuses to abide the rules- Tamlin, carefully manipulated without coordinating by both Rhys and Lucien, goes apeshit.

This does not stop Amarantha from hurting Nesta. The opposite- she’s trapped in the fight between them. When Amarantha does give Tamlin over the power, it doesn’t stop- unloved by even a human, and now she’d take any chance he’d had to win her as he really was.

Nesta doesn’t stab Amarantha. Nesta lays there, bleeding to death, biding her time.

Tamlin murders Amarantha. Rhysand doesn’t beg, but he’s there, getting growled at by Lucien as he tried to staunch Nesta’s wounds.

Amarantha dies, and Tamlin, glowing with power, makes his way to Nesta. They think he’s going to heal her- to try, but Tamlin is Tamlin, so he pulls her into his arms.

Nesta, who knows she’s going to die- Nesta, who was taken from her home, her family, deprived of her life by the choices of this man- Nesta lets Tamlin embrace her, the arrogant, stupid bastard, and stabs him in the throat.

It is the golden, desperate words of Lucien Vanserra that convince the High Lords to heal her. It is Rhysand who tries first, who gives the most. After all- Tamlin had been too selfish to try, and they’d all suffered for it. Faery justice: swift and bloody.

Nesta had died victorious. Nesta died with a bloody autumn court dagger in one hand and the grip of her only real friend in the other- but death was chaos. Skies and stars and howling wind, love and blood and war.

A thousand miles away, Cassian awoke screaming, clawing at his own chest.

She climbed through blood and battle, dreams and hope, floated to an infinite sky: and found herself alive.

Breathing, whole, an immortal monster. On her way to the Court of Night with Lucien by her side.

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trashcatsnark · 3 years

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I've been toying with an AU where Johnny gets to return to his body AND V survives, but the relic still wrecked their body and they're still dying, so they join the Aldecaldos to look for the cure (essetially the star ending + Johnny). Johnny kinda had to become the caretaker for V, since they're too weak to do a lot themselves. He feels like he's fucking up constantly, but he's doing his best; he can't cook, but he always buys V their favorite flavor of instant ramen, for example. Or does something like "you should sleep V, you look like shit. You don't feel like it? Too bad, because I'm lying down right next to you and I'm not leaving untill I hear you snoring (which you do btw)". In reality he loves to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, and now that he has his own, he hopes that V finds it as comforting and soothing as the other way around. He devoted himself to getting V the help they need and V themselves back when he was an engram, and he intends to keep this promise of guardianship in whatever form necessary, be it snapping someone's neck to protect them or making them some ramen and nagging them to eat it.

Awwwwwwww, I adore that please give me! (V better end up okay in that AU or I’ll riot)

Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077 Endings In My Response

I downright adore the idea of Johnny at some point having to take care of V. I really want with my own V for it to follow Temperance ending at first with V letting him take their body. And then Johnny very adamantly saying No, fuck it I can’t let this go, I will rip V out of cyberspace if only to wring their neck and tell them what an idiot they are for sacrificing their life for mine.

So, he works with all of the everybody to get them back, get him a body because V refuses to leave cyberspace unless they’re both saved, And they find a fix.

But what I’m getting to is similarly to your AU is I imagine, all of this will take a huge toll on V’s body and the recovery process will be a long one. Days, weeks, where V barely leaves bed cause they’re still too weak. There body has been under so much duress while his was under cryogenic stabilization. His body accepted him back easily, with no trouble, and V has to be pumped with medication to make their body not reject their very presence in it, intensively for the first couple months and then after enough progress they can go down on it. And Johnny takes up the role of playing caretaker, because he can’t after all of this just watch V suffer and do nothing about it.

And Johnny, feels immense guilt, as he would in the AU as he does with any kind of suffering V endures because of the chip, because of Mikoshi, because of him. Not only does he blame himself, but there’s a sense fo survivors guilt in each scenario, because while V isn’t gone. They suffer while he’s fine and that just isn’t right; why should he be the one doing great and okay while V is actively hurting, when they did nothing wrong, they don’t deserve this.

I also, agree wholeheartedly with your view of him as a caretaker and planned as much with it in mine, because Johnny is so fucking clumsy with it. Because he’s never had to be the responsible person is any situation. Depending on the person, anytime someone he knew sick came to him he’d either tell them not to be a pussy or offer to lay with them as a thinly veiled excuse to touch them and see if he could still get laid. (Alt wasn’t particular amused by that and yelled at him and Rogue saw it coming a mile away and told him to kick rocks)

He feels so out of his element, he knows he wants to, needs to do this for V. But he’s overthinking everything and feels like he’s fucking up every second. He knows their favorite foods, favorite ramen, favorite dessert, favorite everything and he tries to get them for him. Because he, like you said, cannot fucking cook. He can’t make anything, boy burns water. And a part of him is second guessing even giving them their favorites, cause, ramen isn’t great for recovery is it? He can’t give them shitty buck-a-slice pizza when they’re still healing right? That’s bad...right? He doesn’t even know how to be healthy, how is he suppose to help keep V healthy? He might even try to outsource cooking to one of the Aldecaldos if they’re with the nomads or Mama Welles if they’re in the city (he considered for a second asking River to make jambalaya for them, but immediately decided no) but even that makes him feel bad, because then is he really the one taking care of them, but should he be that selfish, to prioritize his own ego in caring for them over them getting the best care? He can’t clean their living area worth shit; their tent or apartment space is messier than usual. If in the city, Kerry offers to pay for a maid service and Johnny refuses, because god damn it he shouldn’t be this incompetent. He has to take care of Nibbles for V a lot of the time and he’s never taken care of a cat before; he doesn’t know how to clean a litter box. He sometimes has to help V shower or bathe when its really bad and finds himself worrying about if he should be doing that, if they think he’s just being a pervert, if he should ask someone else (then remembers that someone else would see them naked and he doesn’t like that too much either and is that selfish?) He honestly has so much worry and anxiety when it comes to V. And while I think he’s always had a hidden level of self hatred and disgust with himself; the anxiety and doubtfulness is definitely a bit..new to him. He was always confident, assured, and determined; he hated himself, knew he was an asshole, but he was an asshole who’d get shit done or die trying, sacrifice every relationship he had for his goals and refused to think about the consequences because it was worth it. Now, he’s freaking out internally about whether or not he can make spaghetti for his favorite merc.

Meanwhile V is just like, Johnny let me sleep on your chest as you hum samurai songs and I’ll be happy.

V: Look, I made Johnny a better person!

Kerry: You fucked up a perfectly good rockerboy is what you did, he’s got anxiety!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #my response kind went on a tangent #i just love clumsy caretaker johnny who's really fucking trying #Anonymous

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens one-shot “At the End” (Rated PG)

Summary: When the angels and demons finally succeed in having their war, there's only one thing that Aziraphale and Crowley can do with the time Earth has left...

Say goodbye to their home. (1408 words)

Notes: I wrote this hoping I would be accepted into a zine that ended up being canceled. The theme was basically what happens after Armageddon.

Read on AO3.

"Wot do you think you'll miss most about Earth?"

"Really, my dear?" Aziraphale clicks his tongue in disgust, but he can't bring himself to look away from the chaos ensuing below them to berate his companion properly. "What a question to ask at a time like this!"

"I think this is the perfect time to ask that question," Crowley says, but without his teasing edge. He offers it sympathetically. They both have a similar connection to this planet, had an investment in it thriving, but Crowley feels Aziraphale's heart breaking more than his. "When you lose something, you mourn it."

"It's not entirely lost! N-not yet." Aziraphale chokes around the words. Even though they leave his mouth passionately, he knows he has sinned by saying them.

Not lost yet may be the biggest lie he's ever told.

The first few hours had been soul-crushing.

The moment Holy rays broke through the clouds and shone down from above, ethereal voices announcing the arrival of God's angelic army, a flock of the faithful came out in droves to greet them. They prayed, sang joyously, raised their voices to the Heavens, invoked every one of God's Holy monickers. It should have been a huge stroke to Her ego... if She had been paying attention.

From Aziraphale and Crowley's perch atop St. Paul's Cathedral, that doesn't appear to be the case.

Those God-fearing mortals were the first to get trodden underfoot as angels barreled over them to confront their enemy - an extremely vulgar and unnecessary display when one considers that angelic footsoldiers can fly.

Hordes of evil-doers emerged from hiding as well, in lesser, but equally exuberant, numbers. They seemed suspiciously more eager for the fight, proving that those who call themselves 'Christian' might outnumber worshippers of Lucifer, but demons had their zealots better prepared for what the end of times would actually entail.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Those humans willing to spill blood at the drop of a hat, even their own, were used as cannon fodder against a foe they couldn't possibly hope to defeat. Within seconds, thousands lay dead on the streets of London and, Aziraphale suspected, all over the world.

For their part, Aziraphale and Crowley refused to join the battle, but no one paid them a lick of attention. An angel cavorting with a demon was no longer an issue. They could finally do as they pleased without fear of retribution, albeit on a planet whose hours were numbered.

"I would have to say I'm going to miss my car," Crowley continues, provoking conversation in an effort to allay his angel's anxiety. "And my flat. And alcohol. Hell's bells am I going to miss alcohol."

"Pity we don't have some now. I think a hull full would find itself useful," Aziraphale adds in a weak attempt at humor.

"Wot about you? Will you miss the food? Your bookshop?"

Aziraphale sighs. "Humanity."

Crowley raises a brow. "Humanity?"

"Yes. Without humanity, the rest of it wouldn't have been possible." Aziraphale scans the carnage below, trying not to focus for too long on any one thing... or any one person. He's already seen too many faces he recognizes, twisted from agony. "Without humanity, it wouldn't have meant anything."

"I suppose."

A tortured voice rings out, but it's snuffed out quickly. Aziraphale doesn't know which side does it, but he shakes his head in shame all the same. “I thought She’d show them mercy. I thought that, in the end, She’d come through. Spare them. That She wouldn't allow them to suffer as bystanders in all of this.”

“I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but… ”

“Then don’t, my dear.” Aziraphale reaches out and takes Crowley's hand, pleading wordlessly for him to stop, but also needing him for comfort. “Where is She? Where has She gone? Why has She abandoned them?”

"You've been asking that question for generations. I would think, by now, you'd know the answer."

"But I don't. Perhaps I should... " Aziraphale swallows heavily, his attention pulled to the skies by a streak of gold, then one of violet, passing overhead. "They know," he spits bitterly. Crowley follows his angel's gaze to the trails above them, one which he assumes must be Gabriel's. "She's obviously told them."

"Perhaps not," Crowley says, not in an attempt to defend Her, but to soothe his angel. "Just like last time, they're doing wot they think is right. Following wot they believe."

"And what do they believe? I don't know! They've never told me!"

"You'd think you'd all be on the same page. I mean, there's a book about it and all."

Aziraphale scoffs at that. "I think you and I both know that the archangels, Gabriel in particular, have never held any stock in books. Books are primitive, human things. They have nothing to do with angels. Not even the Bible... " A host more gold streaks zip by, and Aziraphale's words trail off into nothingness. Of all the books in Aziraphale's collection, his Bibles have always been his favorites. And not just the misprinted ones. The words inside gave him comfort, especially during those long stretches when he didn't hear from God at all. Though written by man, they were imparted by Her (if he overlooked the dodgy editing).

But they're gone. Not a single one remains, not even in the church where they stand, its insides crackling, burning beneath their feet.

Earth had become Aziraphale's Eden. Now, so many things he held dear are disappearing before his eyes.

Crowley squeezes the hand holding his. "Come, my love. It’s time to leave the garden.”

Aziraphale's eyes snap his way. They linger on his face for a moment, then drop to their clasped hands. “6000 years on this planet and you choose today of all days to call me your love?”

“I'm sorry." Crowley inches closer, lifts Aziraphale's hand to his mouth and kisses it. "I really am. I should have said it sooner. But I’m going to take you to a place where I’ll say it every day. I promise.” He wraps an arm around his angel's shoulders, gently urging Aziraphale to leave before the battle brewing, showing no sign of slowing down until it has consumed every last brick, every last breath of air, swallows them, too.

But Aziraphale hesitates. "C-can't we take them with us?" He gestures down to a tattered group of frightened survivors - a shivering young woman, no older than twenty-five if she's a day, and three children, all under the age of ten - huddled in a narrow crevice created by a metal door off its hinges, sheltering them among the rubble of the church's ruined stairs.

They've found themselves a decent hideaway, Aziraphale thinks. But he knows they're simply delaying the inevitable. They'll be found out before too long, become collateral damage.

Like everyone else.

"We can't just leave them to die, Crowley."

"We have no other choice." Crowley's need to escape intensifies as he watches the poor humans, tastes their fear rise with the heat of the flames. "Besides, perhaps they'll pull through. You never know. Humans have always been resourceful. They might find a way."

"Do you honestly think so?"

"Yes," Crowley lies. He would give his angel anything in the universe, anything within his power. He's trying to give him faith.

Because he can't give him this.

They can't save anyone but themselves.

Crowley turns Aziraphale away, blocks his view by unfurling his dark wings, ready to lift his angel into the air on his own if Aziraphale refuses. "I'm sorry, my love. We must leave them behind."

Aziraphale relents, unfurling his own white wings and heading for the upper atmosphere, watery eyes focused on the where in front of him and not the destruction behind him, with Crowley's shard of hope keeping his heart pinned in place.

Crowley should do the same. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But like Lot's wife, Crowley peeks behind him one last time to say goodbye to this place that has been his home for most of his existence.

It was a wonderful existence, but mostly because he had Aziraphale there to muddle through with him.

At least Crowley will still have him when all is said and done.

The last thing Crowley sees before they breach the clouds is St. Paul's Cathedral crumble in on itself, leaving behind a mound of ash.

And nothing more.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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httpbread · 4 years

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I’m back with another ask: May I have a headcanon for Teru with an s/o who at first sees him as just a normal guy who gets cranky - in their perspective- when he doesn’t get enough sleep (he exorcists supernaturals every night according to the manga), so they prepare healthy meals for him, but Teru falls for them? Thank you so much! :)

Pairing: Teru x reader

unless docs is lying to me i think this is the 20th request i’ve done :00

---

- Their first meeting was not the best.

- The resident school prince was not feeling so princely at all that day

- after a long night of exorcising spirits on top of the training he had already done, two hours of homework, three hours of paperwork for the student council, and dinner (only if you squinted)

- he was feeling drained, to say the least

- so after a full day of maintaining his Prince Charming role

- and he came into the student council

- he was expecting to relax

- not the new transfer student, who he had forgotten he’d agreed to show around the council at least two weeks ago

- (Y/n) (L/n)

- and they refused to back down or reschedule

- so, yes, he was a little curt while walking them around. Showing them the basis of what they did.

- he almost wanted to shove them onto Akane and go take a nap. And their insistent questions weren’t helping his migraine either.

- they seemed to want to know about every little thing and one question always turned into ten more

- "Do you ever shut up?"

- despite his frustrations and mountain of issues

- he did NOT mean to say that out loud.

- he honestly expected them to cry. He almost wanted to cry. Maybe his own need for tears was mostly exhaustion but he did feel horrible the instant he said it.

- until he hears a weird crinkly noise

- they’re holding out a juice box to him

- "Let’s take a break."

- Teru almost faints on the spot at the words.

- the poor boy can't even remember the last time he heard the word break

- after his snapping incident, they sat on the waiting couch. He drank the juice box. Talked a little. Then continued on with the tour.

- ...

- well, that’s what he wants to say he did

- no, what really happened was:

- he drank the juice box,,

- and then immediately passed out

- however, when Akane woke him up three hours later, at the ripe time of 5 pm,,,

- he was surprised to find himself laying quite comfortably on the couch, now with a pillow and a blanket.

- "You should’ve been nicer to (L/n)-senpai. They would’ve been great to work with."

- Akane gestures to the president's desk, "Look at all the work they did. They’ve probably done more than we have in two weeks."

- just like Akane said

- his desk was suddenly a delight to look at!

- everything put in the right place, places Teru didn’t even know they belonged in

- they even organized the once towering stack of paperwork he had, listed with sticky notes by due date, listing what could wait until another day, what was what, what was most important...

- not to mention the magic they’d dusted the rest of the student council room with

- it was heaven

- The next day Teru made it his mission to hunt the transfer down.

- which was surprisingly easy.

- turns out they had almost every class together.

- even more surprisingly,

- they actually agreed to becoming his assistant, on the student council.

- at first, they don’t talk too much. Strictly business.

- Plus (L/n) always looks so focused when they get busy. He never wants to interrupt them.

- he quickly finds himself very envious of them.

- Teru usually wasn’t one for jealousy but they made things look so easy.

- from ordering their schedule, his schedule, doing their homework, filing the mountains of paperwork, you name it

- he was sure anything he threw at them they could handle with ease, they never even seemed to trip up.

- And they always look so alive despite their calm exterior. They never look stressed or agitated. Tired. They do so much and they always wear such a peaceful look.

- "Minamoto-san, I can take care of the rest of this. Why don’t you go take a nap?"

- the first time he heard them say this he thought he was going to kneel over and die any second

- why. why would they offer that

- was he dying

- why?

- "Oh- uhm. That’s not-"

- "I’m not asking, Minamoto-san."

- he found that he didn’t need to be asked Anyways. Teru was snoozing on the wait couch almost seconds later.

- he wouldn’t say it’s exactly a habit...

- but when (L/n) smiles at him and tells him to go rest...

- he just can’t say no...

- especially when it’s ALWAYS the best sleep he gets.

- sleeping during club time is a new bad habit he never thought he’d have but one he just can’t kick under the watchful eyes of (L/n)

- the longer (Y/n) works under Teru the more they learn his routines

- sarcastic? Dehydrated.

- snappy? Hungry.

- glaring? Nap time.

- it was almost like managing a two year old, except the two year old is very tall. very handsome. And also very much their boss

- (Y/n) would never tell him, they found the situation quite humorous

- everyone always fanned over the older minamoto like he was royalty. A god among mortals.

- but one look and they could read that boy like a book.

- lack of sleep (probably from too much work)

- too much piled on his plate (poor management skills)

- frequent skipping of meals (also poor management skills)

- (Y/n) has never heard of a prince who struggled so much to take care of himself

- though, they could admit he was handsome like a prince. And quite nice when he was feeling better

- normally (Y/n) was harsher with the advice they gave their friends on getting their shit together

- but...

- they’d been rather soft on Minamoto ever since they met him.

- they weren’t sure why, but something about him tugged on their heart strings.

- plus...

- it was kind of fun taking care of someone else for once

- so, it was not very long before (Y/n) started bringing him lunch

- it was around the same time they found out Teru worked in the student council room during his lunch

- they put a stop to this real quick

- working? During lunch?

- that was like the biggest no no ever!

- and Minamoto couldn’t seem to quite grasp this when they tried to explain

- so they instead turned to distracting the president with food

- they had to look into more healthy lunches to make up for the boy. Which was... interesting

- all they knew when they first started cooking for him was that he needed protein for energy...

- the more they looked into the matter, the more it made them realize just how much effort they were putting into this

- which embarrassed them

- it was nowhere near enough to stop them though

- the first lunch they gave him was scarfed down in less than five minutes (a massive boost to their ego, not that they’d ever say that)

- Teru has had a lot of cooking. And logically... he knows Kou’s good is better than (Y/n)’s

- ...

- but there’s just something about their food that he enjoys more than anything

- their homemade lunches become his new favorite pick me up

- it didn’t matter what kind of thoughts were tangling in his head. the second he saw (L/n) holding a new wrapped bento was the same second he was the happiest man on earth.

- and between the lunches, the help in delegating his work and the council, the naps...

- Teru is feeling better than ever!

- he feels refreshed and he’s happy to admit (Y/n) has helped him so much!

- "Don’t rub it in," Akane huffs, "Some of us are still single, president."

- those were the words that made him realize

- realize that (l/n) was not just an assistant to him

- or a friend

- because Akane was what a friend was like

- a jerk. rude to him. vaguely tolerable sometimes.

- that’s what he thought of the boy

- but (L/n)

- (L/n) was an angel. they were cute. kind. amazing. he wanted them by his side at all times.

- that’s what he thought of them.

- ...

- which he quickly realized was not very platonic

- but what akane said to him haunts him now

- Teru was very single

- but was (L/n)...?

- ...

- he tries to bring the question up subtly during one of their lunches together in the council room

- "Boyfriend...?"

- they smile

- "What? Are you tired of my constant doting?"

- NO

- Teru wasn’t sure he could go back to functioning the way he did before they came along

- "I guess I could find another guy to baby."

- they meet his eyes, a teasing glint in theirs

- "If that’s what you really want."

- baby?

- no, he wouldn’t say they were babying him...

- ...

- ok maybe a little

- but

- "Now that you mention it..."

- "I guess I do finally have the space in my schedule for a boyfriend."

- knowing (L/n), even if they didn’t have the time, they could easily make space in their schedule for anything...

- "Depends.”

- they don’t look too pleased with this answer, but don’t mention it

- He leans forward to brush their hair out of their face, smiling

- "Do you think I have room in my schedule for you?"

- they smile back at him

- then swat his hand away

- "no. you don’t have room for anything."

- "Sure I do. I have the perfect place for you.”

- he opens his arms up to them, despite the heat fighting to cloud his face

- ...

- 5 minutes later their council room lunch time turned into council room nap time (snuggling included), something that would become a very common occurrence in their newfound relationship

#teru x reader #teru minamoto x reader #jshk #jshk x reader #tbhk x reader #tbhk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #headcanons

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Too Far Gone

(Hey y’all! I’m back with some Logan angst, because that’s all I’m capable of writing. You can find this story on Ao3 here!)

Summary: Logan Mackenzie doesn't quite understand feelings, but he does care about his friends. That's why he ended up playing matchmaker for his three oblivious best friends.

Getting Roman and Virgil together is hard. Getting Patton to admit his feelings is harder. The hardest part, however, is when he realizes he care a little more than a friend would.

But they're happy together. Roman-Virgil-Patton. 1+1+1=Relationship.

What Logan wants isn't part of the equation.

Ships: eventual romantic LAMP

Warnings: self-deprecation, self-confidence issues, self-isolation, sacrificing happiness for the sake of others, a TON of pining you guys, some denial to spice it up, deceit is only mentioned, self-hatred issues, yeah Logan has some feelings, swearing, insecurity about being polyamorous but it’s very brief, crying, arguing, lots of crying. (that makes it sound really angsty but there’s a ton of fluff too I swear)

Word count: 16,845 (it’s still a oneshot if I post it all at once, shut up)

Logan Mackenzie knew a lot of things. He knew the name of every Agatha Christie novel in alphabetical order. He knew the capitol of every country and a few that weren’t countries anymore. He knew how to calculate the sine of an angle, identify the signs of dehydration, and communicate—albeit rather haltingly—in American Sign Language. He’d maintained good grades through high school, college, and now, graduate school. He wanted to be an astronomy teacher one day, but if that didn’t pan out, a doctor, researcher, or physicist were not out of the question.

As Virgil once put it, the size of Logan’s area of expertise was only eclipsed by the size of Roman’s ego. This led to Roman attacking Virgil with a spatula and declaring that their friendship was over, Virgil was a coward and a fool, and he could not reasonably stand for this heresy. Patton suggested that if Roman couldn’t stand for it, he should just sit down. And that pretty much summed up Logan’s three best friends.

But despite Logan’s knowledge of all things philosophical, scientific, linguistic, and everything in between, he did have one rather large Achilles heel.

He did not understand emotions.

He had them, of course. He could hardly avoid them, being a homo sapiens of ordinary mental health with supremely emotional beings as his friends. Roman was always bursting with drama, exuberance, and Disney songs. Patton was sunshine incarnate with a perpetual smile and endless dad jokes. Virgil was more laid-back and sarcastic, but his issues with anxiety and his not-so-secret softer side still placed him firmly in the Has Feelings category.

Logan had feelings too. Joy when opening a fresh jar of jam, pride after receiving a good grade, frustration when Roman said something particularly dense. He just didn’t seem to…comprehend them as the others did. He often didn’t even realize what he was feeling, only noting the physical symptoms of the emotion.

For a while, he’d asked Patton what he was feeling and Patton had done his best to deduce the answer from the symptoms provided. That was a figurative hit-or-miss endeavor, however, and Logan found his stomach clenching at the sympathetic look on Patton’s face. He knew Patton meant well, but the experience of being pitied—was he being pitied, or was that a cognitive distortion, like the ones he always talked Virgil out of—the experience of feeling pitied was an unpleasant one. These days, he usually researched the symptoms on his own. It was even less accurate, but avoided the cloying feeling of vulnerability.

Logan tried not to be bitter about the situation. He understood so many things, it only made sense for life to give him a figurative handicap. And emotions were hardly the most important thing to understand anyway. He’d much rather know CPR than whether he was angry or merely annoyed. Those sorts of subtleties could be handled by his friends.

They didn’t seem to mind Logan’s…inexperience. They liked him just fine. More than ‘fine,’ in fact. Virgil and him had been friends since high school, back when Logan was even more unmanageable and walled-off. And Patton and Roman both helped him through the stress of college without judgment. The four of them worked, illogical as it was. Their different personalities didn’t clash, they just complemented each other like different shades to a painting. Logan couldn’t imagine having another friend group, and he didn’t want to imagine the circumstances in which he would be forced to find one.

For now, things were all right. Patton cheered them up, Roman pushed them forward, Virgil kept them safe, and Logan educated them. When Patton was sad or Roman was insecure or Virgil was panicking, they’d watch movies or practice breathing or simply talk until the problem was solved. Logan could handle the rational, intellectual part of the issue and Patton or Roman would cover the emotional side of things. Even Virgil, cynical as he was, had a sense for understanding insecurity and fear. Their system worked. If a problem was too emotional for Logan to handle, he could always call Patton or Roman or Virgil. It was simple.

Then came a problem he couldn’t get backup for.

Virgil had a crush.

No, that understated the issue. A simple crush would have been bearable. Virgil had a deep, desperate, all-consuming crush on Roman. It was the sort of crush that made him blush when they were in the same room. The sort of crush that sent him into hyperventilation when Roman said hello. The sort of crush that made him rant endlessly about Roman’s “stupid perfect face and stupid beautiful voice and stupid nice lovely wonderful smile—” until he resorted to simply screaming obscenities into his pillow.

And who did he rant to? None other than Logan Mackenzie, the singular most unqualified person in perhaps the entire Milky Way.

Logan understood Virgil’s predicament. He couldn’t talk about it to the object of his affections, of course. Patton was also out of the picture—him and Roman were thick as figurative thieves, and Patton would never keep a secret from anyone. He’d try, maybe, but he was a terrible liar and Roman would surely catch on.

Logan was the only possible option. They were roommates, they were friends, and Logan could keep a secret. And Logan, good friend as he was, did want to support Virgil through this emotional time.

However, he couldn’t say it didn’t get…tedious.

Especially as the crush showed no signs of fading, and Virgil still refused to tell Roman about it.

“Virgil,” Logan said, poking at the mop of purple hair he knew possessed his best friend. Virgil merely mumbled something that sounded like “stupid wonderful personality” and ignored him.

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, louder. “I’d like you to explain—"

“Why I don’t tell him. I know.” Virgil batted Logan’s hand away, poking his face above the covers. A residual blush still lingered on his face. “You’ve said that a million times.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed tautly. “Because it is the only possible conclusion to this fiasco and I don’t see why you can’t just get it over with.”

“Not the only possible conclusion,” Virgil grumbled. “It’ll probably go away soon.”

“Virgil, remind me how long you have had this crush?”

Virgil glared at him and didn’t respond.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the answer myself.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Eighty-three days and five hours.”

“You remember that?”

“Hard to forget,” Logan snapped, “when you have spent the majority of those eighty-three days complaining about Roman’s perfect eyebrows.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “But…have you seen his eyebrows, L?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Because I see him every day, Virgil. He is my best friend.”

“Then you should appreciate my struggle.” Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “I’m completely doomed.”

“Just tell him!” Logan burst out. “This crush will not end of its own accord. You need to confess your feelings, if only to lay your mind at rest. Roman is not currently in a relationship with anyone. He is pansexual and panromantic and could very easily reciprocate your feelings. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t just tell him how you feel.”

Virgil groaned. “Is ‘everything’ a reason?”

“No.”

“Is ‘I just can’t’ a reason?”

“Also no.”

“Is ‘I’d rather die’ a reason?”

Logan raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Sometimes I don’t comprehend humanity.”

“Look, L, I…” Virgil struggled out from under his covers, pulling at a sleeve and avoiding his gaze. “What if he doesn’t like me? That way?”

“Then you will at least have some clarification instead of being stuck in a figurative limbo state.”

“What if it ruins our friendship? What if he thinks I’m weird or creepy or—”

“Virgil.” Logan carefully placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Roman is a good friend who values you deeply. I sincerely doubt this would ruin your friendship. Things may be different for a time, but you will not lose him over this. I promise.”

Virgil looked a little consoled. Still, he squeezed the blanket with both hands. “What if—what if he—”

Virgil fell silent. Logan tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Never mind, it’s…it’s stupid.”

“If it is bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

Virgil seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a second. Finally, he burst out: “What if he feels forced?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Logan said. “Could you elaborate?”

“What if he feels like…just ‘cause I like him…he needs to…” Virgil pulled at his sleeve, biting his lip. “I dunno…pretend? Date me to be nice? Out of pity? I don’t want…I don’t want him to feel…like he has to sacrifice his happiness so I can feel better.”

Something ached in Logan’s chest. It was a hard, sharp ache, with heat but no anger. Compassion, that’s what it was. Platonic love for his insecure, anxious, wonderful best friend.

“Virgil, look at me,” Logan instructed. Virgil slowly looked up, his brown eyes dark with worry. Logan reached out and brushed his purple bangs out of his eyes.

“Roman is not a cruel person.” Logan kept his voice soft, comforting. “He cares deeply about you, as I have said before. He would not string you on a figurative wild goose chase no matter his feelings for you. He is not a liar and he would not do such a thing out of pity for you. Roman does not, and never will, pity you.” Logan laughed quietly. “And sacrificing his own happiness for others sounds more like something you would do, Virgil.”

Virgil huffed with irritation. But his prickly expression soon faded. “Thanks, L.”

“It is my pleasure.”

Virgil nodded to himself. Then his face lit up, but just as soon as the excitement crossed his features, it flickered away again.

“What is it?” Logan asked, leaning forward on his chair.

Virgil bit his lip again. “Well…um, I had an idea…but it’s probably stupid and you don’t have to—um. Well. Maybe you could…see if Roman likes me? Ask him?”

Logan blinked. “Are you asking me to…clandestinely investigate whether Roman has romantic feelings for you as if we were back in high school?”

Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “…Maybe?”

“Unbelievable.” Logan sat back and crossed his arms. “Virgil, I would do many things for you. But I am not going to play matchmaker.”

“C’mon,” Virgil said. “I’ll let you have first pick at movie night and do your share of the dishes for a week and give you back your Alice in Wonderland puzzle book.”

“Tempting,” Logan admitted. “And if I do such a…juvenile venture, and find out that Roman holds romantic feelings for you, will you tell Roman of your crush?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Do I have to?”

Logan gave him a level stare.

“Fine!” Virgil threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You win. If Roman likes me…maybe I’ll tell him. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Logan echoed.

“It’s the best you’re getting, Pocket Protector.” Virgil grinned. “Take it or leave it.”

Logan mulled over the question, but truly, it wasn’t much of a debate. He wanted Virgil to step up and take action. He wanted the pair of them to get together, if only to end Virgil’s ceaseless complaining. And…truly, he was a little curious who Roman did like. He often proclaimed that he wanted to sweep someone off their feet or slay a dragon for them or simply be in a romance, but Logan never heard a specific name attached to those fantasies. In fact, he couldn’t remember Roman ever talking about his crushes—strange indeed, when Logan had always thought of him as a romantic.

“Deal,” Logan said.

“Thanks, L. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I don’t think your life would be in jeopardy, unless you can die from pining—”

Virgil chucked a pillow at Logan’s head. “Shut up and get matchmaking, Cupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Virgil grinned like a cat who’d eaten a canary. And Logan wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

It took a little work to find time with Roman alone. Patton stuck to him like a barnacle—they were roommates and both were extremely clingy. In fact, they often acted like they were dating, but Logan supposed they were just very touchy friends.

Perhaps they were dating in secret. Or Logan just didn’t know about it because they’d chosen not to tell him because he didn’t understand relationships and—okay, he was starting to sound like Virgil. They were not secretly dating. Patton couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and neither of them had any motivation to hide such a thing from Logan or Virgil. Roman was single and therefore, could possibly like Virgil back.

Logan just wanted Virgil happy and not pining sadly in his bedroom. Was that too much to ask for?

Finally, he managed to get Roman alone. It was during their traditional movie night, between Mulan and Pocahontas. Patton had realized they were out of popcorn and Logan convince Virgil to go with him to get some more. Virgil gave Logan a suspicious look, but after Logan motioned to Roman and quickly signed ‘I’ll ask him,’ Virgil let himself be dragged to the store with Patton. He didn’t seem entirely upset with the situation—though Virgil would deny it, he loved Patton. Though Patton never denied it, he loved Virgil back.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Specs.” Roman ducked behind the counter and came up with two mugs. He handed Logan the one that said ‘Best Mother Ever’ and kept the ‘I Drink Coffee to Hide the Pain’ mug for himself. Rooting around in the cupboard, Roman pulled out some hot chocolate mix.

“I’m not the best with this stuff—Patton’s a miracle worker, I swear—but I think it’ll do.”

“Hot chocolate in March?” Logan asked. “It’s fifty degrees outside.”

“Silence,” Roman ordered. “I’m bored and I wanna have sweet stuff. Don’t rain on my parade.”

Logan smiled as Roman began to make them the hot chocolate. Soon they both had a steaming mug of sweet melted chocolate. Logan stirred his and watched the steam curl in the air. Roman watched him out of the corner of his eye, a tentative smile on his face.

“What?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged. “…Are you gonna drink it?”

Logan blew on the cup and took a sip. The sweetness warmed his throat, and he could feel it traveling to his stomach, making every extremity of his body warmer. Roman had stuck a sprig of peppermint

“It is…satisfactory,” Logan said, taking another sip.

Roman grinned. “Glad you approve, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan sighed. “Why must you always insult me?”

“Hey, this is how I show my love!”

Jumping on this auspicious phrasing, Logan decided to put his plan into motion. Carefully maintaining his nonchalant tone, he said, “Is it now.”

“Yes!” Roman put his hands on his hips. “You may be insufferable and annoying and completely idiotic sometimes, but I care about you!”

A smile played around Logan’s lips. “Is that how you treat your princes and princesses? Insult them as you rescue them from the tower? I can’t imagine they’d like that very much.”

“Rude.” Roman shoved Logan, almost knocking over his ‘Best Mother Ever’ mug—why did they even have that mug? None of them were female—and giving him a roguish grin. “My romantic endeavors go just fine, thank you.”

“Oh really?” Logan tried to bridge the line between teasing banter and honest curiosity. Come on too strong, and Roman could get suspicious. “I wouldn’t know, you never talk about them.”

Roman shrugged. “I have to have some secrets, don’t I?”

Logan snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re dating someone in secret? A Romeo and Juliet situation, perhaps? I’m sorry to say that Patton might be a bit upset if you were banished for manslaughter.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Roman said, laughing. Quietly, he added, “Not for lack of trying.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Roman fidgeted uncomfortably before taking a large sip of hot chocolate and avoiding Logan’s gaze. Unfortunately, that hot chocolate seemed to be too hot. Roman swore, jumping back and batting at his tongue. Logan poured him some water, which he downed. Roman soon recovered enough to begin moaning about his injury and threatening to “get my revenge on this accursed cocoa by any means necessary.” Before Roman could bring out his sword and challenge the mug to an Agni Kai, Logan decided to ask his big question.

“…Roman, do you…I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…”

Curses, why was this so hard? Roman’s face wrinkled in confusion and concern, eyebrows high.

“…Do you have feelings for anyone?”

Roman laughed lightly. “I have a lot of feelings, Specs. Be more specific.”

“Do you have…romantic feelings?” Logan clutched his cup. “I’m curious. You never speak about relationships in the specific…and you mention trying to date someone. It’s okay if you don’t want to disclose this information, but I would like to understand better.”

Roman sighed, staring into his cocoa. “It’s complicated, Specs.”

“Try me.”

“I…” Roman rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I don’t know. Yes, probably? There’s…someone I have in mind…but…oh, I don’t know. Why do things have to be so confusing? Where’s the line between they’re-just-a-friend and I-may-wanna-date-them? In stories it’s always so clear-cut, and they always fall for just—I mean, it’s always obvious that they like someone. It’s…it’s never been that way for me.”

Logan watched Roman with sympathy. “I can understand that. The line between platonic and romantic attraction is often blurry.”

“I know.” Roman was hunched over, tracing circles on the rim of his mug. “And I sincerely doubt anyone thinks of me that way, so it’s a moo point.”

“…a moot point.”

“That’s what I said.”

Logan chose not to comment. Instead, he said simply, “That’s not true.”

Roman’s head jerked up. “What?”

“That’s not true,” Logan repeated. Maybe he was breaking Virgil’s trust, just a little bit, but he could be vague. And how was he supposed to find out if Roman liked Virgil without bringing Virgil up?

“You mean…someone likes me?” Roman looked disbelieving, far too disbelieving, and Logan reminded himself to have another talk with Patton about Roman’s self-esteem.

Logan nodded. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say,” Logan said, raising his mug. “They wouldn’t want me to tell their secret.”

“That’s fair,” Roman said.

Logan took a sip of hot chocolate.

“…it isn’t you, is it?”

And Logan almost spit out said sip of chocolate.

Roman thought—wait, he thought—

This was not good.

Instead of being rational, instead of thinking this through, Logan’s heartbeat skyrocketed and he panicked.

“What?” Logan yelped. “No! No, no, hell no. I would never want to date you.”

Roman looked like he’d been slapped. Hurt blossomed over his face. “Wow, thanks,” he said, the sarcasm sharp with wounded pride. “Glad you think so much of me.”

“No!” Logan set down his coffee and ran his hands through his hair. “That…didn’t…I didn’t mean it like that. I have nothing against you. You’re just…” Excuse, excuse, something, something! “…not my type?”

“Not your type?” Roman looked slightly mollified, and, oh no, now he was smiling in that teasing way of his. “What is your type, then?”

Logan sipped his cocoa and tried to maintain a figurative straight face. “Someone who doesn’t light their hand sanitizer on fire by accident.”

Offended noises followed that statement. “That was one time!” Roman protested. “And it was Remus’ fault!”

“Of course it was.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You two are natural disasters and threats to the peace of this nation.”

“Thank you!”

Logan sighed into his hot chocolate. Silence fell, slightly uncomfortable but not grating.

Finally, Roman asked, “Who is it?”

“I told you,” Logan said, finishing his cocoa and setting down the mug. “I can’t say.”

Roman pouted. “Meanie.”

“You were the one who said it was fair!”

“Well, now I’m curious!” Roman complained. “Can’t you give me a hint?”

Logan looked into Roman’s eyes. “Who do you want it to be?”

A blush rose to Roman’s cheeks. He hurriedly looked away. “I dunno…I mean…”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Logan walked over to the sink and began washing out his mug. “And I do not judge.”

Roman sighed dramatically behind him. “Must you force me into this confession, oh heartless one?”

“I’m not forcing you into anything.”

Another dramatic sigh. “Fine. I—I like—”

And then there was an indistinguishable mumble. Logan turned off the water and looked behind him. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I like Patton,” Roman whispered.

Oh.

“…and Virgil.”

Oh.

Logan tried not to let his excitement show. “I…didn’t realize you were polyamorous.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Roman shrugged. His voice was strangely brittle. “Until…now, I guess.”

“Well.” Logan walked over and leaned on the counter next to Roman. “…Thank you. For telling me.”

Roman gave a small, insincere smile that quickly vanished. “You don’t think it’s…weird?”

“Of course not.” Logan channeled all his certainty into his words. “Many people are polyamorous. It’s not ‘weird’ any more than it is ‘weird’ for some people to be bisexual, or aromantic, or demisexual. It’s a way of experiencing sexual or romantic attraction that is no less valid than any other.”

“Huh.” That small smile returned, more sincere this time. “Thanks, Specs.”

“It’s no issue.”

“Thanks.” Roman fidgeted slightly. “It’s not fun, you know.”

“What isn’t?” Logan asked.

“I dunno.” Roman waved a hand in his usual flamboyant gesturing, but something about it was ragged. “Liking two people gives double the heartbreak. I’d settle for one of them—I’d love to be with one of them, but it’ll never happen.” Recovering himself, he pressed a hand to his forehead and wilted. “Woe is me, I shall never be loved by my loves.”

Logan chuckled. “How do you know?”

“Well, I did,” Roman clarified. “Now you’ve cruelly given me hope.”

“Cruel indeed.” Logan traced his fingers over the counter. “Imagine, one of the two people you’re closest to might have romantic feelings for you as well. How improbable. It’s not like platonic relationships often lead to romantic ones.”

Roman laughed. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Dee too much.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “It is not out of the picture for at least one of your objects of affection to reciprocate your feelings.” He avoided Roman’s eyes. “I, for one, think you are…a good person. Kind, smart, funny…I can see how someone might fall for you.”

Okay, this was getting into territory he didn’t like. Time to backtrack. “In fact, as you and I know, someone does hold those feelings for you.”

“Is it…one of them?” Roman asked. The hesitant hope in his face was almost heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Logan said. “Even if it was one of them, I wouldn’t know the feelings of the other.”

“Hmm.” Roman furrowed his brow. Then his face lit up. “Hey, Professor Plum?”

“Don’t call me that, the character in the movie Clue is a scoundrel and a disgrace to academia—”

“Miss White,” Roman corrected.

“Hardly better.”

“Wadsworth,” Roman settled on. “Could you—since you know about this—could you find out if either of them—”

Foreboding filled Logan. “Please don’t say you want me to—”

“—play Matchmaker?” Roman smiled sheepishly. “Maybe?”

“Oh, Newton.” Logan rubbed his eyes. “Roman, please say you’re joking.”

“I’m not!” Roman seemed pleased with the idea, the exact opposite of Logan’s feelings on the matter. “You could just ask Virgil and Patton if they like anyone, and see if either of them like me.”

“Roman.” Logan sighed loudly. “There are several fallacies with this plan. For one, I may already have information on them. For another, I would be betraying their trust by telling you. You could not gain any information from this venture and I am not going to be complicit in it—”

“…Please?” Roman asked. “You can just find out if they like anyone else, and then you can tell me if they don’t, if I have a shot, and—”

Something fiery and hot was growing in Logan’s chest. Annoyance or anger? Probably the former, since Roman didn’t mean to do this. Still...it burned.

“—and most likely I won’t, but there are two chances, right? And—”

“Roman.”

“—I’m just really curious now, I’m tired of pining—”

“Roman!”

“—this is turning into a romantic comedy, it’s painful—”

“Roman, Virgil likes you!”

Roman immediately froze. His eyes widened, then widened even further, until there seemed to be more whites than irises.

Something heavy and cloying twisted in Logan’s stomach. Shame? Guilt? Fear? Something, definitely. He’d betrayed Virgil’s trust.

But on the surface was still annoyance, and Logan let it out.

“He sent me to find out your crush and get me to play Matchmaker! Now you’re asking me to do the same thing, and I am most certainly not creeping behind both of your backs and being a double agent for your silly romantic antics! Please just communicate with each other like adults before I go insane!”

Roman’s mouth was hanging open. He closed it, swallowed, and opened it again.

“…Wait,” Roman said. “…Virgil likes me?”

“Yes.” Logan felt his anger fade.

“…Are you sure?”

“He’s been ranting about your beautiful eyelashes for months, so I’d say I’m pretty sure.”

Roman looked like Logan had smacked him in the face, let loose a flash grenade between his eyes, and began singing All Star in an Elvis costume. “Really?”

Logan wanted to chuck Roman at the wall. “Yes, really. I do not propagate falsehoods, Roman.”

“Wow.” Roman still appeared shell-shocked. “I didn’t expect…I mean…wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Logan said, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the couch. “Do what you will with this information, Roman. My part here is done.”

“Logan…” Roman followed, tossing himself on the couch and grabbing a blanket. “Thanks.”

“It was no problem. In fact, it was my pleasure.” Logan placed himself on the other side of the couch, reaching for the bowl of chips. “I am glad this ordeal is over with.”

“Well, it isn’t yet, Teach.” Roman smiled. “I still need to ask him out. I’m thinking the first day of spring, a garden—”

“Do it now.”

“What?”

“Do it now,” Logan said. “As soon as Virgil comes back. Before you can A) talk yourself out of it or B) design some ridiculously complicated endeavor that would most likely leave Virgil overwhelmed.”

Roman scoffed. “When have I ever done something like that?”

Logan pointedly glared at him.

Roman sunk into the couch cushions, crossing his arms petulantly. “Fine.”

“Good.”

Roman grabbed the TV remote and turned the TV back on. The loading screen for Pocahontas showed. He pressed play.

“They’ll miss it,” Logan complained.

“We’ll start it over.” Roman’s face was determined in the light of the screen, which accentuated the flop of his brown hair and the firm jaw that swept under his crooked smile. Logan narrowed his eyes, trying to see whether Roman’s eyebrows were anything special. They appeared normal, brown and defined, but maybe from another angle—

“What are you doing?” Roman asked, turning and meeting Logan’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Logan said. “Let’s watch.”

They made it fifteen minutes into the movie before Patton and Virgil returned. Patton had gotten sidetracked with petting a cute dog and the store had a long line. Virgil dumped the popcorn in a bowl and Patton gave Logan and Roman hugs despite seeing them only half an hour before.

“You started already?” Virgil complained.

“Rest easy, Maleficent. We’ll start over.” Roman’s face darkened with a slight blush. “But um…actually…could we talk for a sec? Alone?”

Panic flitted over Virgil’s face. He glanced at Logan, who gave him an encouraging smile.

“O-okay,” Virgil agreed, fidgeting with his hoodie. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Roman led Virgil down the hallway to Patton’s bedroom. “Pat, is it okay if we go in here? My room’s a mess.”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” Patton called. Roman smiled and they walked through the doorway, Roman shutting the door behind them.

“What’re they up to?” Patton asked, settling on the couch next to Logan.

“Can’t tell you that,” Logan said. “I’ve spilled enough secrets today.”

Patton looked at him curiously but apparently decided not to comment.

And they sat in silence, Patton munching on the popcorn, Logan watching the clock and praying whatever was going on, it was good.

After five minutes, Virgil and Roman emerged. Roman was beaming, and Virgil had a small, shy smile on his face. Logan noticed their hands were brushing each other—not intertwined, not yet, but comfortably side-by-side.

Virgil sat next to Logan and Roman sat next to Patton. Patton’s questions about their conversation were brushed off, and Patton soon conceded the issue and turned on the movie again. As Pocahontas sang, Virgil leaned over to Logan and punched him in the arm. Logan hissed in pain. “What was that for?” he whispered.

“Telling him.” Virgil was smirking, however, and Logan knew he was forgiven.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Virgil looked over at Roman, whose smile still hadn’t faded. Roman saw Virgil and smiled even wider, getting a smile in return.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

Something was wrong with Patton.

It was about three months since Roman and Virgil had begun officially dating. The amount of pining-based rants had sharply dipped. Unfortunately, they were replaced by what-do-I-wear-to-a-coffee-date rants and holy-shit-we-kissed-Logan-we-kissed-help rants and what-if-he-secretly-hates-me-should-I-break-up-with-him-before-he-does rants. What’s more, he also began receiving more calls and texts from Roman along the lines of “What’s Virgil’s favorite food” and “Does he like park dates” and “He hasn’t texted me back yet does he hate me is he going to break up with me,” so Logan resigned himself to his fate. Dating they might be, adorable and sweet and supportive they might be, but Logan would still have to deal with their gay panic.

However, his somewhat inept support of them had apparently deemed him “Emotionally Competent.” It was a false label and a new label, replacing his old one of “We Ask Him About Stars, Not Feelings.” Logan didn’t feel he deserved this new designation, but like it or not, he was now someone who could Help With Feelings.

That’s why he was the one talking to Patton.

Well, that wasn’t the whole story. It was also because Patton’s strange behavior was mostly limited to Roman and Virgil. He was kind and sweet and cheerful, but his smile always seemed strained when in their company. More often than not, he excused himself from group activities early, only talked to Logan, or even—according to a concerned Virgil—being strangely distant one-on-one. Sometimes Logan spotted Patton staring at Roman and Virgil, an inexplicably sad look on his face, but when confronted he immediately smiled and said it was nothing. Roman and Virgil, worried they had done something wrong, enlisted Logan to discover the source of the problem.

And the newly Emotionally Competent Logan couldn’t say no.

It was Patton, after all. Sweet, lovely, amazing Patton. If something was truly wrong, he would not hesitate to attempt assistance. He cared deeply for Patton. And although his recent behavior didn’t extend to Logan—in fact, by process of elimination, Logan actually ended up being with Patton more than on average—he still wanted the old Patton back.

So, after an afternoon in Patton and Roman’s apartment that consisted of a violently competitive game of Monopoly—Roman tried to place a hotel on a railroad, Patton traded properties with everyone to help them win, and after Logan collected the Free Parking money totaling 564 dollars, Virgil chucked a shoe at his head—Logan decided to stay behind, help Patton clean up the mess, and ask him a few questions.

Patton seemed to be his normal self. He gladly assisted Logan with the cleanup, cracking jokes and telling the story of a very nice cat he’d met at the animal shelter he volunteered for.

“You’re allergic to cats,” Logan pointed out for the twenty-seventh time.

“I know,” Patton said with a pout. “But she was so cute! And her little fluffy ears…she was purr-fect!”

“I do hope you took your medicine.”

“Of course I did, kiddo!”

Logan smiled. “Roman reminded you, didn’t he?”

Patton giggled and booped Logan’s nose. Had they been with company, Logan wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. But Patton was exhilarating, energetic, so full of life, so contagious—and no one could see anyway. He didn’t mind. In fact, he leaned forward and booped Patton back. Patton’s delighted squeal was worth it.

Tossing a few more pieces into the box, Logan debated how he would tackle the issue. He didn’t want to alarm or upset Patton, or force him to tell anything he didn’t want to. What’s more, Patton would probably deny the problem like he often did, pretending everything was fine. Getting around Patton’s emotional wall would be a challenge.

It was a good thing Logan liked challenges.

But he’d been silent for too long. Patton’s face furrowed in a frown, and he leaned forward, tapping Logan on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Logan said.

“You just…kinda spaced out there for a sec.” Patton tilted his head. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Logan closed the box. “Yes. I think so.”

“Well, then.” Patton sat on the carpet and patted the spot next to him. “I’m all ears!”

Logan hesitantly sat next to Patton. “You’re not all ears, you consist of many different organs—”

Patton giggled. “So I ‘ear.”

“Alright then.” Logan decided to let the pun slide. “Patton…I…”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Patton’s voice was soft. “You can talk to me.”

Then Logan realized. He couldn’t think of this like a puzzle or a mystery like with Roman. Patton responded to emotion. If he wanted results, he needed to have an honest, emotional conversation.

Shit.

Well, here went nothing.

“Patton, I’m worried about you.”

Patton blinked. A startled laugh escaped his mouth. “Wha—me?”

“Yes.” Logan maintained eye contact—Patton’s eyes were blue, contrasting with his curly blond hair. They reminded Logan of freshwater pools, teeming with life, or the shade of the Earth when seen from space. “You’ve been behaving strangely, and I’m worried. Is everything alright?”

“Well, shucks!” Patton smiled. “I appreciate the concern, kiddo, but I’m doing fine-and-dandy over here. Why are you worried?”

“Because you’ve been distant.” Logan’s eyes were beginning to sting from the prolonged eye contact, but he kept looking at Patton. “You’re avoiding Roman and Virgil. You’re talking to me instead of them. They’ve noticed too, and they’re worried they did something to hurt you. Something that made you…wary. Closed-off.”

Patton’s smile faded for a second. “Ro and Virge? They think I…I’m mad at them?”

“They want to make sure you’re okay.” Logan finally dropped his gaze. “So do I.”

Patton made a little sad noise in his throat. “I…I’m not mad at them! I never meant them to think—they didn’t do anything! They’re wonderful!”

“I’m glad, and I suspected that,” Logan said. “So could you tell me, if they haven’t done anything…why are you avoiding them?”

Patton pressed his lips together. His smile was completely gone now.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Logan said. Carefully, he reached out and touched Patton’s arm. “But I care about you. We care about you. If something is hurting or inhibiting you…we want to help.”

Patton gave a short, shaky nod. “I—”

“Take your time.”

“I—” Patton’s face crumpled. “I’m being stupid.”

“I hardly think so,” Logan said. “If it is distressing you, it is not stupid.”

“Right.” Patton gave a watery smile. “You know, Logan, I never told you how much I like that tie of yours! It adds a lot to your a-tie-re, you should knot think of giving it up en-tie-rly!”

Logan ran his hand down his blue tie. “Thank you, Patton.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo!”

“…but you’re deflecting,” he added softly. Carefully, letting Patton stop him if he wanted to, Logan placed his arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’m not asking you about my tie. I’m asking about you, Patton.”

Patton’s shoulders began to shake under Logan’s arm, and before he knew it, his best friend was crying into his shirt.

Logan didn’t interrupt. He stroked Patton’s back gently, letting Patton release his tears. After a few minutes of sobbing, Patton hiccupped twice and began to apologize.

“Stop,” Logan murmured. “It’s not your fault. You needed to get that out.”

“I—” Patton began to cry again. “I’m being so selfish—they’re so nice, and wonderful, and they care about each other, they love each other, and I want them to be happy—they’re happy!—so why am I—why do I feel—"

“Breathe, Patton.” Logan lay a hand on Patton’s head and began stroking his hair. Patton clutched Logan’s polo shirt tighter, almost hugging him as he cried. At this point Patton was almost in Logan’s lap, curled into his chest, pressed against Logan’s heart.

“It’s okay,” Logan said, letting Patton’s curls cascade around his hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m going to ruin it for them—”

“You love them.” Logan kept his voice quiet, giving Patton a chance to back out. “Yes?”

Slowly, Patton nodded.

“Then that is not your fault,” Logan assured him. “You cannot control your feelings any more than…any more than one can stop a river from flowing. Yes, you can dam up the river, but eventually it will break through and cause more damage. The only way to deal with the problem is to go with the flow.” Logan tenderly brushed a few locks of hair from Patton’s head. “You need to ride with the current, Patton. Ignoring the problem and pushing away people you love in the process…that’s repression, and just like with the dam, it will only make things worse when emotions do break through.”

Patton gave a watery giggle. “You’re so smart, Lolo.”

Logan felt something twitch at the nickname—annoyance, probably. Annoyance that made his face burn red. But now was not the time.

“…I have to tell them, don’t I?” Patton asked quietly.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Gently, Logan took Patton’s hands and pulled them from his shirt, folding their fingers together and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Patton’s hands. “But I would recommend it.”

Patton’s lip wobbled. “What if they hate me? Or they think I’m weird, or—”

Despite himself, Logan smiled. “Any excuse you give me, believe me. I’ve heard it before. When Virgil and Roman didn’t want to confess their feelings. I think we both know how that turned out.”

He got a small, hesitant smile in return. A smile that could outshine the sun.

“They’re so wonderful…” Patton sighed wistfully, staring into nothing. “Virgil…Roman…they just—everything they do, they’re so strong, they—you know how wonderful they are, right, Lo?”

Logan thought of Virgil’s snappy retorts, Roman’s overblown theatrics, and how they seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces. Night and day, moon and sun, yin and yang, opposites that complemented each other and helped each other grow. Virgil, with his wry smile and astute observations and sewing skills. Roman, with the theater he loved so much and the friends he loved even more, always ready to seize the day and create something new. They couldn’t see the worth within themselves, the light that shone in their eyes, but they could see each other’s. And Logan could see theirs.

“Yes, I know.” Logan smiled into Patton’s hair. “At least, I’m starting to.”

Despite Patton’s worries, the conversation went well. Roman, of course, was thrilled—he’d loved Patton for months. Virgil, although he admitted he had never thought of Patton that way, was still open to the idea. And after a few months, it was clear he was falling head-over-heels.

It was the three of them now. Virgil-Roman-Patton. Virgil and Roman’s snappy banter and nervous kisses were now complemented by Patton’s boundless compassion and propensity for snuggling. It was not uncommon for Virgil to spend the night at Roman and Patton’s apartment, the three piled on the couch amidst various blankets and pillows, The Emperor’s New Groove playing as they fell asleep.

Of course, despite Logan’s new status as the figurative Fourth Wheel—a misleading term, because four-wheeled mechanisms of transportation were far more common than three-wheeled ones—they still made sure Logan felt included. They still had movie nights, one-on-one conversations, friendly walks to the park or to the store. Logan didn’t begrudge their new need for only-the-three-of-them days. It made sense—they were dating. They wanted time on their own. And it made something in his chest loosen with warmth when he saw them together, smiling and laughing, fitting together like pieces in a puzzle. They were his friends, and he was happy they were happy. Even if ridiculous levels of PDA did make his chest sting a bit.

The day things changed wasn’t a day at all. It was a night, and it was a night in the city, and it was the night Logan realized something very important.

The problem was, it would have been a great night if he hadn’t.

It was fall. The air was nippy and chilled, leaves beginning to lose their chlorophyll and reveal the fiery shades underneath. Virgil was already counting down the days until Halloween—Logan came home from school one day to see him draping spiderwebs across every available surface, bopping along to This is Halloween.

Roman had just landed a part in a local production of Into the Woods—Prince Charming. Virgil jumped on the opportunity for a nickname and soon Prince Charming, or Princey for short, was his pet name for Roman. Roman acted offended, but it was a term of endearment and a reminder of his success as an actor, so Logan guessed he didn’t really mind.

To celebrate, Patton decided they should all go out for dinner together. He recommended a Mexican place downtown, and Virgil and Roman were thrilled. Logan, assuming it was going to be a date, didn’t respond to the invite. That got him yelled at.

Princey: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T INVITED

Princey: WE MADE THESE PLANS IN THE GROUP CHAT

Princey: THE GROUP CHAT THAT YOU ARE IN

Princey: IF WE DIDN’T WANT U, WOULD WE HAVE TOLD U WHEN/WHERE/WHY IT WAS HAPPENING?

Pattoncake: Calm down Ro!!

Pattoncake: it was just a misunderstanding

Pattoncake: but you’re coming right Lolo?

Princey: You’d better

Princey: This is a night to celebrate MY AMAZINGNESS and ALL my favorite people must be there

Emo Nightmare: if u don’t come i’ll probly end up murdering princey for singing agony too much

Princey: IT IS A GREAT SONG AND I WILL FIGHT YOU WITH MY BEAUTIFULLY MANICURED SWORD

Pattoncake: okay let’s calm down, no murder on Roro’s big night!

Emo Nightmare: ok I wont kill princey

Emo Nightmare: but ill kill L if he doesn’t show up

Pattoncake: That’s not really better.

Princey: I stand with you Virgil! The nerd shall come or be PUNISHED BY DEATH!

Emo Nightmare: yep

Pattoncake: No!!!!

Pattoncake: if he doesn’t come, that’s okay

Pattoncake: I’ll just eat all his crofters! I’m sure he won’t mind!

Emo Nightmare: holy shit patton’s bringing out the big guns

Lo-bot: Fine. I will come. Please do not threaten me or my jam.

Princey: Wait that worked?

Pattoncake: I know Lolo well!! ;)

Emo Nightmare: okay that was actually kind of terrifying

Lo-bot: Also, please stop calling me LoLo.

Emo Nightmare: quiet lolo

Princey: LMAO already changed your name

Lolo: …Pardon me while I scream.

So Logan went to the date—the not-a-date-anymore, the date-except-Logan-is-here. He met up with Patton and Roman and Virgil, the brisk autumn wind making his cheeks red, wearing a woolen greatcoat and grey checkered scarf. Virgil said he was overdressed for the temperature. Patton said he looked like Sherlock. Roman said that the eighteen-hundreds called and they wanted their nerd back.

Patton was wearing a pale blue shirt and a cardigan with soft jeans. Little cat patterns were sewed on his knees. Virgil had his usual black-and-purple hoodie, and Roman had a red-and-gold jacket over a plain white shirt. They made quite the team, walking down to the restaurant, Roman waving at everyone and Patton running up to pet every dog in the vicinity.

The restaurant’s food was delicious. They got several plates of food and shared them—a pile of roasted chicken, a bean soup, a salad, a bowl of yucca fries, and other wraps and dishes. Roman only sang Agony once, and he kept his volume low.

“What else?” Patton asked as they stretched, bellies full, and made their way to the door. “It’s dark but it’s still early.”

They decided to walk around the city for a while. The lights were on, windows glowing in the dark. Streetlights illuminated their skins, creating halos of light around Patton’s curly hair and Virgil’s smug smile and Roman’s breathless grin. The sidewalk was busy, the roads even busier, but they still had stretches to themselves. It was a wild night, the sort of night that seemed separate from any day before or after it, crisp and clear and alive.

Laughing and talking, the four walked down a few blocks. They had no destination in mind, but there was something to see around every corner. Even though Logan knew this city like the back of his hand, everything looked different in the dark.

“This is wonderful,” Patton breathed. His hand was intertwined with Virgil’s, and he was leaning slightly on Roman’s shoulder. “Thank you guys.”

“No problem, Pop Star,” Virgil muttered fondly.

“Thank you!” Roman exclaimed. “It was your idea, after all.”

Logan opened his mouth to add something, but instead, he stayed silent. He had noticed, all of a sudden, that he was slightly apart and slightly behind the three of them. They walked like a single organism, intertwined and in-step. Logan was tacked on at the end, out of sync.

Not a fourth wheel, but a fourth point on a triangle. A fourth leg on a tripod. A fourth Musketeer. There was a fourth Musketeer, he vaguely remembered from English class, but he wasn’t important. He certainly wasn’t memorable.

The Rule of Three. Everything came in threes—heaven earth underworld, comedy tragedy history, reduce reuse recycle. Virgil-Roman-Patton.

So what if he was the fourth wheel? They wanted him here. They asked him to come. They were still his best friends.

Logan shook off the thoughts and walked faster, joining up with the others again. Conversation had moved on without him, and he struggled to get a sense of the discussion.

“Anywhere we want to go?” Roman was asking.

“I need more ramen,” Virgil said.

“We’re not going grocery shopping on a date—on Roman’s day,” Patton quickly amended. Logan ignored the stab he felt at those words. “And I can just cook some real noodles for you! You need to eat healthier food anyways.”

“Ramen is healthy,” Virgil grumbled.

Logan looked around and saw a bookstore nearby. It was one of his favorites, actually, and the lights were still on. They’d been there before, the four of them looking for birthday presents for each other, hiding books behind themselves and trying to clandestinely pay for them, finding strange books and funny books and books for kids and simply having fun. Patton squealing as Roman picked him up and deposited him on a beanbag, Virgil doing a dramatic reading of Fifty Shades of Grey, Logan purchasing a Ravenclaw robe and refusing to take it off. It was one of Logan’s favorite memories, and afterwards, he’d returned to the bookstore because when he closed his eyes, he could hear their laughter and watch Patton blush and Virgil smirk and Roman gasp and all of them together.

Logan opened his mouth to suggest they go to the bookstore, but Patton had already suggested something else, and Roman was pressing a kiss to Patton’s head and leading them on, and something was twisting in Logan’s throat. Something ugly, choking, white-hot. He remained silent.

Slowly, he drifted away.

Finally he was almost six feet behind them, watching them glow in the street lights, snatches of conversation and laughter drifting back to him. He watched Virgil shove Roman and Roman shove Virgil back, Patton inserting himself between the pair and chiding them.

Logan felt…he felt like something was clawing at his insides. He felt like his breath was labored, something jammed in his throat. He felt a terrible fire kindling in his stomach, and another burning sensation around his eyes. His mouth was dry and his hands were clenched so his knuckles showed white caps of bone.

This wasn’t feeling left-out. This wasn’t just feeling like a fourth wheel. It was something more.

Carefully, Logan peeled back the anger—was it anger? Just pain? Sadness? Fear? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, but something was definitely hurting, shattered and broken and piercing his veins.

It was want, crawling through him.

Of course. He wanted things to be normal, he wanted them to be friends without crashing a date every time he came with. He wanted time with them, he wanted—he wanted—

He wanted to be there, under the streetlights, as Patton shivered and Roman pulled his jacket off. Soon Patton was wearing it over the cardigan, a ridiculous combination that he managed to pull off. He wanted to be with them, not six feet behind, getting no glances or acknowledgments. He wanted to slot between them like a piece to their puzzle, feel Roman’s arm as it wrapped around Patton and Virgil, link hands with Patton like Virgil did with Roman, let Patton give a kiss to his cheek like—

Oh.

Logan stopped dead on the sidewalk.

Oh, shit.

Frantically, he tried to think of another explanation for his feelings. But now that he’d admitted even a sliver of it to himself, a figurative dam broke in his mind. Hundreds of glances, touches, flutterings in the chest, suddenly made sense. Patton, Roman, Virgil, his best friends, who he’d spent years with. Patton’s smile, Virgil’s laugh, Roman’s voice—they were as much a part of Logan as his DNA.

He loved them. He always had.

But…he didn’t just love them as friends, did he?

Friends didn’t want to hold hands with other friends. Friends didn’t want to kiss other friends. Friends didn’t want to walk down a gleaming sidewalk at night, shoulders bumping together, steps all in sync.

Logan was still motionless. Lights glowed around him, but the world seemed blurry and off-kilter. He couldn’t feel the cold on his cheeks or the warmth of his scarf. He closed his eyes and opened them. The world was still disorientating, swimming around him, lights dancing like fish in the ocean.

Up ahead, Roman-Virgil-Patton had stopped at a crosswalk. After a few seconds, Virgil looked back, probably assuming Logan was a few steps behind them. Alarm crossed his face when he realized Logan was still standing in the center of the sidewalk.

Logan tried to shake some sense into himself as Virgil approached. He couldn’t just stand there! They’d get concerned! He took a wobbly step forward, then another. His feet seemed disconnected from his ankles.

“Lo?” Virgil asked. Roman and Patton were behind him, identical expressions of worry on their faces. “Everything okay?”

Logan opened his mouth to say he was fine, they should just continue. But did he want to keep walking with them? Did he want to keep crashing their night, keep staring at what he couldn’t have? They didn’t need him here, that much was obvious. He should just make it easy on them and leave of his own accord.

“I am adequate,” Logan said. “However, I have just realized it is later than I expected. Due to my classes tomorrow that necessitate an early rise, I must ask for permission to conclude this venture.”

Here he went with the overly complex words. Although Logan had a naturally sesquipedalian nature, he noticed a marked increase in long sentences when he was nervous. Hopefully the others would dismiss the verbal tic as ‘Logan being Logan.’

Patton checked his watch and gasped. “Oh my goodness, it is late! Almost ten o’clock already! I’m so sorry, Lolo!”

“It is no trouble,” Logan assured him. “It is only natural that you lost track of time.”

Virgil shrugged. “I guess that’s it, then? We can head back.”

“Aw, come on.” Roman pouted. It looked far less cute when he did it than Patton. “Can’t Specs miss one class for me? The night’s just getting started. Who cares about proper education when you could be with us?”

“My teachers,” Logan pointed out. “And myself.”

“Boo.”

“Now, now, Roman!” Patton waggled a gloved finger at his boyfriend. “You gotta respect Lolo’s decision. He’s his own person. And he was very kind to take the evening off to support you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Roman sighed. “Let’s go back.”

Logan frowned. Something tugged at his stomach when he thought about them ending their adventure early on his account. “You can continue on without me. I do not mind.”

“No, it’s okay!” Patton smiled. “It’s about time to turn in!”

“I insist,” Logan said. “I do not want your evening to conclude preemptively due to my own scheduling.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Roman complained.

Logan couldn’t resist snapping back. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Virgil and Patton glanced at each other. Fortunately, they decided not to comment. Virgil only said “Be careful walking home on your own. Text me when you get back.”

“I will. Thank you for your concern.” Logan stuffed his fingers in his pockets and turned away. “I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“Bye!” Patton called, waving frantically.

“Farewell!” Roman proclaimed.

Virgil gave his customary two-fingered salute.

Logan simply raised a hand in return, turning the corner and walking out of sight.

And the universe granted him a small boon—it began to rain, softly and gently on the concrete. Soon Logan was dripping wet, droplets sliding down his face.

When he began to cry, he knew no one could tell. His tears were hidden by the rain.

So Logan Mackenzie let himself cry.

Logan could not avoid the others. He lived with Virgil, after all, and Roman and Patton both loved attention and were intuitive enough to pinpoint when something was wrong. So Logan knew it was fruitless to try and push them away. They would only get suspicious, concerned, and hurt.

Still, illogical as he knew it was, he tried.

For three days he didn’t answer his phone. He didn’t speak with Roman or Patton. When Virgil knocked on his door or asked him questions, he fielded them with monosyllabic replies and assertions of “Everything is fine, I am just caught up with studying.” Virgil didn’t buy it—of course, of course he didn’t buy it, he was so smart and perceptive and that was one of the millions of reasons Logan loved him, and here he went down that rabbit hole again.

It was like realizing his feelings had opened a figurative floodgate. Roman, Patton, and Virgil were on his mind all the time. He drank coffee and was reminded of Roman’s cocoa. He wrestled with math equations and remembered tutoring Virgil in high school. He closed his eyes at night and thought of Patton, curled up by his side.

Logan couldn’t take it.

Once in a while he checked his phone. The long lines of worried texts from Patton and Roman made something squeeze in his chest. He waited for them to inevitably peter out and stop. They didn’t.

They probably thought he was sick or dying or something. Hadn’t Virgil told them he was perfectly fine? Sure, they may have assumed he was suffering from some sort of emotional problem, but did that really deserve all this concern?

Finally, after a particularly desperate bout of texting around midnight, Logan wrote back. He kept it short and simple.

Lolo: In response to your queries, I am doing well. Please cease your attempts to contact me. Thank you.

Logan honestly didn’t expect them to write back. He’d given them an easy out from the situation. They no longer had to feel guilty about him and could go about their lives.

But—

Princey: WHAT

Pattoncake: Kiddo are u okay?

Princey: LOGAN WE’RE NOT GONNA STOP WHAT

Pattoncake: u know we love u, right?

Emo Nightmare: call me

Pattoncake: you’re our friend

Princey: YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT

Emo Nightmare: logan please call me

Emo Nightmare: now

Logan swallowed. Slowly, he dialed Virgil’s number.

Virgil picked up on the first ring. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I—”

“No. Shut up. I’m going to keep talking.” Virgil paused and sighed. “L…we’re really worried about you.”

“Where are you?” Logan asked.

“Ro and Pat’s.”

Logan bit his lip. “Of course.”

“I can come home.” A loud rustling sounded from Virgil’s end. “I’m putting on my jacket, I can be there in ten—”

“Not necessary, Virgil.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. He’d prefer it if he didn’t have to see Virgil’s face at all, with the soft purple bangs hanging over his dark eyes and the light freckles he pretended he didn’t have and—

Off topic.

“I just…” Virgil’s voice was soft and concerned, and Logan cursed himself for making that worry appear. “This is so sudden, L. Did we do something? Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad!” Logan hastily said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what?” Virgil asked. “I…look, L, if we made you feel—uncomfortable, or anything, I’m sorry…”

“Uncomfortable?”

“You seemed pretty out-of-it when we celebrated with Roman, I guess I just assumed.” Virgil paused. “You’re my friend too, and I care about you. No matter if I’m dating you or not.”

“Right.” Logan swallowed. “What about Patton and Roman?”

“What about them?” Virgil asked incredulously. “They’ve been texting you frantically for the past three days, Patton’s stressbaked enough food to end world hunger twice over, and Roman’s temper is on a hair trigger. You really think they don’t feel the same way I do?”

Logan ran his thumb across his phone case. “No, I—”

“You what, L?” Virgil’s voice dropped. “Please. I’m worried about you. Just…talk to me.”

What could Logan say? That he suddenly realized he had been harboring crushes on his three best friends for perhaps a year and a half? That he didn’t want to see them again because it would only deepen the infatuation and he was bound to give himself away or look like a fool? That he didn’t want to make his friends uncomfortable, because it would be nothing but awkward if the truth did come to light?

“It’s complicated.” Logan sighed. “I…I have a few things I need to figure out, Virgil. Just…can you give me some more time? A week?” That wouldn’t be enough time to suffocate his affections entirely, but it could allow him to think of a better game plan. “Stay at Patton and Roman’s apartment for a while. I know you do that often anyway. I just…I need some time alone.”

Virgil was silent for a few seconds. “Can you promise Patton’s three rules? You’re not hurting anyone, no one’s hurting you, you’re not hurting yourself?”

Logan channeled all his certainty into his voice. “No one is being harmed. This is not a matter of such grave importance. It is just an—identity issue.”

“Well, alright. If you say you need it.” Virgil didn’t sound fully convinced. “You can always call me or Pat, okay? There’s extra food in the freezer, make sure you have your full meals and go to bed at a reasonable time, okay?”

“Virgil, it is currently one in the morning.”

Virgil paused. “Huh. So it is.”

Logan clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Whatever. My point still stands. Go to bed.” Logan could almost hear Virgil’s smirk. “Always keeping me on my toes, aren’t you, L?”

“You don’t need any help with that,” Logan said.

“True, I’ve got the anxiety.” Virgil clicked his tongue. “So…well…I guess that’s that, then? Call me anytime, eat your veggies, brush your teeth, listen to your parents?”

Logan huffed. “I should be telling you that instead.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “You’ll be okay?”

“I…” Logan hesitated. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil muttered. “Because I love Patton’s baking, I promise, but I’ve eaten more cookies than should be humanly possible. I don’t think my hoodie will fit anymore.”

Logan laughed again. “I will take that into account.”

“All right.” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Love you, L.”

It was a simple phrase. They said it all the time, platonically. It was a way of expressing affection, and although Logan had trouble verbalizing feelings and Virgil had trouble showing emotional vulnerability, they had both gotten better at the phrase over the years. It slipped out easily now, with barely a second thought. Of course he loved Virgil. And Patton and Roman.

But in light of recent revelations, even such a simple phrase made Logan’s heart simultaneously speed up and stop altogether. These cardiopulmonary abnormalities were highly irritating.

“I…” Logan’s mouth was dry. “Thank you, Virgil.”

Before Virgil could respond, he tapped the End Call button and tossed his phone on the desk, closing his eyes and rubbing his hand down his nose. That was a disastrous phone call if he’d ever participated in one.

At least he got a week to figure things out. Perhaps he could find a way to hide his feelings or better yet, get rid of them altogether. Perhaps he could land a job in Tokyo and move across the world and never have to face them again.

Perhaps he was being a tad dramatic.

A week without the others. This would be good for him, he told himself. He would enjoy it. It didn’t matter that he found himself dreading a week without Virgil’s dry sarcasm and tendency to sit everywhere except on chairs, Roman’s incessant singing of Disney songs and inability to remember history if it wasn’t events in Hamilton or Les Miserables, or Patton’s favorite cat hoodie and his weekly “experiment” meals where he added lots of cumin or onion to a dish and the others had to taste the aftermath. It didn’t matter that he would eat alone, do his homework alone, watch movies alone. That was exactly what he wanted.

Suddenly, the apartment felt very empty.

Logan turned off his lights, changed into his pajamas, and tucked himself into bed. It was a long time before he slept.

He did not spend a week alone.

He spent the first four days of the week alone, burying himself in his studies and rereading Murder on the Orient Express whenever he got too bored. Despite his promise to Virgil, he stayed up later and later and mostly ate energy bars, leftover ramen, and a few strawberries from a jumbo pack of strawberries Patton had bought. Virgil did not call or text him. Roman called him once, leaving a voicemail that said “Is the Mona Lisa only famous because it was stolen? Virgil and I disagree on the matter.” Logan did not call him back.

Patton kept texting him, however. Perhaps Virgil hadn’t explained that Logan wanted to be left alone, or perhaps Patton had simply disregarded the instructions entirely. Whatever the case, Patton continued to send him Patton Texts™ at random times. A Patton Text™ was a text sent with the express purpose of cheering someone up, usually consisting of a cute animal picture, a clean meme, a fun news story, a dad joke, or, occasionally, a dirty meme. Patton Texts™ didn’t require a response, a purpose, or any sort of context. They just existed. It was, Logan had to admit, rather sweet.

On the fourth day, Logan woke up to a photo of a kitten with its head stuck inside a box, a horrible pun (What do you call a country where everyone drives a pink automobile? A pink carnation!) and a reminder that he needed to ‘TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OR I WILL PHYSICALLY FIGHT U.’ Throughout the day, Patton sent him several cute cat videos. Despite himself, Logan always paused and watched them.

One part of him whispered that Patton only watched cat videos when he was sad. Logan tried his best to ignore that part.

It was late that evening when he got a text. Assuming it was another Patton Text™, Logan paused the documentary he was watching and pulled out his phone. However, it wasn’t Patton. It was a direct text from Virgil.

Virgil Conroy: L call me

Logan frowned. Why was Virgil contacting him? He had promised to respect his wishes. He wouldn’t text him unless—

Unless something was seriously wrong.

Quickly dialing Virgil’s number, Logan sprung up from the couch and tugged on his shoes.

It took five rings for Virgil to respond. When Logan said “Hello?” he got no answer.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. Listening closely, he could hear Virgil’s breathing. It was far too fast and frantic. In the distance, there was a loud thud, then another. Virgil began to breathe even faster.

“Virgil, can I assume you are suffering from an anxiety attack?”

There was no response.

“Virgil.” Logan grabbed his keys and dashed out the door, practically flying down the steps. “Tap the phone once for no and twice for yes.”

A pause, then a hesitant tap. Then another.

“Okay.” Logan walked down the sidewalk, weaving around people and taking the crosswalks at a run. “Can you breathe for me? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8?”

A shuddering, deep breath. Logan started counting, still going as fast as he could. He barely needed to focus on the route—he knew the way to Patton’s apartment as well as the way to his own.

“You’re doing so great,” Logan said, rounding a corner. “You’re doing wonderfully, Virgil. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

“Um—” Virgil’s voice was shaky. “Uh, floor. Bed. My…my Nightmare Before Christmas posters. Window. Door.”

“Good. Four things you can feel?”

“Hoodie.” Virgil swallowed. “Floor. H-hair. Um…tears?”

“Okay.” Logan watched the traffic lights and bolted for the other side as soon as the walk signal glowed white. “Three things you can hear.”

“Traffic outside. B-birds.” Virgil sniffed. “Roman throwing stuff in the bedroom.”

That wasn’t good. Logan kept his voice level. “Two things you can smell?”

“Popcorn and burnt cookies?”

“And one thing you can taste.”

Virgil sighed. “Popcorn.”

“Great.” Logan slowed down as a mass of people crowded past him. “How do you feel?”

“N-not great, L. Obviously.” Virgil chuckled. “Um. Sorry for texting you, it was on instinct, I know you didn’t want to be bothered—”

“It is no trouble,” Logan insisted. “Your wellbeing is extremely important to me and I am glad I could assist.”

“Huh.”

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Yeah?”

“You do not have to, but…could you tell me what happened?”

Logan heard Virgil shift. “Argument,” he finally said. “Bad one.”

“Oh.”

“Ro and Pat were yelling a lot. I think Pat started crying. He’s in the bathroom now, I wanted to help him but all the yelling set me off, and—”

“Take a deep breath,” Logan said. “You did everything you could. Taking care of yourself is important, and you were very brave in reaching out. I’m—I’m proud of you.”

A siren wailed next to Logan as he jogged down the sidewalk. He was only a minute from Virgil’s apartment now.

“What was that?” Virgil asked.

“Siren.”

“Wh—” Virgil paused. “L, where are you?”

“I—” Logan looked around. “Oak Street?”

“Why on earth are you—”

“Give me a second, all right?” Logan pulled the phone from his ear. “I’ll talk in a second.”

Then he ran, leaping over cracks in the sidewalk and hurtling past trees, ignoring the confused looks of bystanders. The streetlights flashed above him, the sidewalk sparkling in the neon glow. Cars raced past him, careening through the night, headlights illuminating the haze. The windows and doors of the city rowhomes blurred together.

Finally, Logan skidded to a stop and climbed up the stairs to a brownstone at the end of the road. Slipping his hand under the small dog statue, he grabbed the key and turned it in the lock. The hallway was empty as he crept past the downstairs apartments, taking the stairs two at a time.

Patton’s apartment was unlocked. Logan didn’t bother knocking. The living room was empty, the TV still playing a paused scene from Lilo & Stitch, an abandoned popcorn bowl and pile of blankets on the couch. The kitchen lights were on, a few cookies left on the stove. The bathroom and bedroom doors were closed. A loud thump came from the bedroom on the far side. It sounded like someone punching a pillow, and indeed, that was probably the cause.

Logan pulled out his phone again. Talking quietly so as not to disturb anyone, he asked Virgil, “You’re in the bedroom?”

“Yeah—”

Logan walked forward and knocked on the bedroom door.

There was shuffling behind it, Virgil muttered “Just a sec,” and the door was opened. Virgil stood there, hoodie half-fallen from his shoulders, eyes red and hair mussed. He looked Logan up and down, mouth falling open.

“Did you—run here?”

Logan shrugged. Now that he was standing still, he realized how out-of-breath he was. “Yes.”

“I…” Virgil stared at him. “Wow.”

“You…” Logan reached out. “May I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

Logan placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” Virgil fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie, but Logan noticed he leaned into the touch. “Definitely calmer. I—hearing your voice helped.”

“I’m glad I could assist.” Logan pressed a thumb gently into Virgil’s back. “Can I get you some tea? You can sit on the couch while I make it, maybe listen to some music?”

Virgil paused and nodded.

“Good.” Logan led Virgil to the couch and gave him a few of the blankets and pillows. Virgil rolled his eyes but dutifully cozied up in the corner. Logan spared a moment to appreciate the adorableness of Virgil curled up like a burrito, pulling on his headphones, before he was off to the kitchen and brewing some tea. Chamomile, he decided, would be just the thing. As the water boiled, he pulled out his phone again and texted Patton.

Lolo <3: Patton, could you come out of the bathroom? I am making Virgil some tea and I assume you could benefit from it as well.

After a minute, his phone vibrated with a response.

Patton O’Rourke: ur here????

Patton O’Rourke: I thought u were havin alone time

Lolo <3: Circumstances change. Please emerge whenever you are comfortable.

Logan returned to the tea, finding four mugs and setting them out. Behind him, he heard a door creak open. Without turning around, he said, “Hello, Patton.”

“H-hey, Lolo.” Patton shuffled forward. “I can help with the tea.”

“That is fine,” Logan said, shooting Patton a reassuring smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather you just sit with Virgil. I’m sure he’d love the company.”

Patton looked apprehensively at Virgil, as if afraid he would deny it. Virgil gave Patton a small wave and scooted over on the couch. Patton delicately sat on the other end, clutching his hoodie.

Soon the teapot whistled and Logan poured the tea into the four mugs. Bringing three of them to the couch, he handed one to Virgil and one to Patton. The third he placed on the coffee table.

“Is that for you?” Patton asked.

“Roman.”

Virgil gave Logan a disbelieving look. “He’s been throwing shit around for the past half an hour. You’re not getting him out for tea, dude.”

“Not immediately, no.” Logan sat on the floor across from them. “Drink. It’ll help.”

Virgil sipped at his tea. Patton stared into the mug and didn’t move.

“Patton?” Logan reached forward and placed a hand on his leg. “Would you like to talk?”

“I—” Patton clenched his teeth. “No, I—I’m fine—”

“Patton.” Logan stood up again and sat next to Patton on the couch. “You just went through an upsetting situation and many harsh words may have been exchanged. It is perfectly reasonable—in fact, it is encouraged—to react and experience emotions about this event.”

Patton shivered. “I—”

“Would you like me to hug you?”

Patton paused and nodded.

Logan carefully placed an arm around Patton’s shoulders, taking the mug of chamomile tea from his hand. Virgil politely avoided staring as Patton fell into Logan’s side, burying his face in Logan’s shirt. His shoulders began to shake, and Logan heard him start to cry.

Tilting himself carefully, Logan pulled Patton into his lap and placed a hand behind his head. One traitorous part of himself noticed how close they were, but Logan successfully shunned it. Patton seemed very small in his arms.

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan murmured.

Patton hiccupped. “F-for what?”

“For crying. It sounds like you need this, and I’m proud of your ability to release your emotions.”

“Sure.” Patton laughed bitterly into Logan’s chest. “You’re proud of the fact I can cry. That says a lot about me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but that is not necessarily a negative thing.” Logan reached over and began stroking Patton’s hair. “You have struggled with this in the past, and for you, this is an achievement. That doesn’t mean you’re lesser than anyone else. Your problems are your problems. Everyone has issues with some things.” Logan smiled. “Look at me, for instance.”

“If you—” Patton sniffled. “Talk bad…I will fight…”

“I know.” On instinct, Logan leaned forward and placed a kiss on Patton’s forehead. “Why don’t we leave that for later, okay? For now, do you think you could give Virgil a turn? Though I love cuddling with you, I need to check on Roman.”

Patton didn’t move. “Virgil…don’t wanna…wanna bother…”

“He’s right here, Patton.” Logan glanced at Virgil, who was still pointedly giving them space. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“He…” Patton hiccupped again. “Is he mad?”

“What?” Virgil gave up on pretending to ignore them. “Pat, no!”

“I know we…we were really loud…” Patton began to cry again. “And you got upset, and I couldn’t check on you…and I w-would understand if you h-hated me, we w-were s-stupid…I-I…”

Virgil looked shocked. “God, Pat, are you kidding? I couldn’t hate you!”

Patton simply cried louder.

“Can I…?” Virgil motioned to Patton, and Logan carefully uncurled Patton’s arms from his torso and shifted him down the couch to Virgil. Virgil reached out and Patton immediately collapsed into him, tucking his head into Virgil’s shoulder.

“Oh, Pat.” Virgil rubbed Patton’s back. “You made a mistake, but that’s okay. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you, you’re the best fucking boyfriend ever. Don’t tell Roman.”

Patton looked up and gave a watery chuckle. “L-language, kiddo.”

“There he is. There’s my favorite Pat.” Virgil smiled softly and wiped a tear from Patton’s face. “I love you, okay?”

Patton smiled back and snuggled into Virgil’s hoodie. “Love you too.”

Logan quickly looked away, ignoring the rush of emotions in his stomach. Getting to his feet, he took the final mug from the coffee table and headed to the bedroom. The door was locked and he could hear nothing behind it.

Logan knocked on the door. “Roman?”

No response.

“Roman, could you please open the door?”

After a pause, someone mumbled “Go ‘way, Virgil.”

“This is not Virgil,” Logan said. “This is Logan.”

He jumped out of the way as the door flew open. Roman stood there, pajamas rumpled and eyes red, looking at Logan like he was the reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.

“Where—” Roman closed his eyes and opened them again. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Virgil texted me.” Logan held out the mug. “Would you like some tea?”

Roman squinted suspiciously at the tea. “What kind?”

“Chamomile. I thought it would help calm everyone down.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite—” Abruptly, Roman shook his head. “No! I’m mad at you!”

“You are?” Logan kept his voice level.

“Yeah!”

“I was unaware.” Logan glanced towards Patton and Virgil, but they didn’t seem disturbed by the yelling. Virgil had slipped his headphones over Patton’s ears and was watching him fondly. “Why are you angry with me?”

Roman folded his arms and his face flushed. “’Cause you’re a fucking asshole!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Why do you think of me this way?”

“Don’t give me that sarcastic shit.”

“I was not intending to be sarcastic.” Logan waved a hand at himself. “You know I am not the best with sarcasm.”

“Shut up!”

Logan mimed zipping his lips and tossing the figurative key.

Roman rubbed his eyes. “You just waltz in here after like eternity days and knock on my door like ‘Hey what’s up remember me I exist.’ Like, what the fuck, Specs?”

“Unless I was mistaken, you agreed to the temporary separation,” Logan said. “Could you explain why it upset you?”

“I’m not upset!” Roman snapped. “I’m pissed! Can’t you tell?”

Logan looked at the tear tracks running down Roman’s face and his angry red snarl. “The two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Get out of here with your science talk!” Roman growled. “Actually, hey, good idea! Get the fuck out in general. Leave.”

“Patton and Virgil wish me to be here,” Logan said, taking a deep breath and retaining his calm tone. Getting exercised would do no one any good. “Unless you have a solid reason for my departure, I shall remain.”

Roman frowned and violently scrubbed at his eyes. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’ve gathered.” Logan clasped the mug of tea in both hands, steam warming his fingers. “I understand your feelings about the situation. But I would like to understand the cause better. Why did my abstaining from social contact upset you?”

“’Cause you can’t just do that!” Roman burst out. “You can’t just up and walk out of the friend group! It’s not a normal thing to do!”

“Were you worried about me?” Logan asked. “Were you worried about my emotional or physical wellbeing? You should know that if something was seriously wrong, I would always tell you and the others.”

“I know, I—” Roman sighed. “I just—it came out of nowhere.” His voice tightened. “And what am I supposed to think? That you suddenly decided you wanted to be a hermit?” Roman’s hands balled into a fist. “I just don’t get it! If I did something wrong, have the fucking decency to admit it to my face!”

The last sentence was almost a shout. Virgil looked over at Logan, concern in his eyes. Logan gave him a reassuring nod before turning back to Roman, who looked about to throw something.

“Is that the problem?” Logan asked. “Do you think it was your actions that led to the situation?”

Roman glared at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Roman.” Logan took a step forward, and Roman’s hands dug into the doorframe. “It was a personal issue of mine and I should have conveyed that better.”

Roman’s glare deepened.

“Is that what led to the argument?” Logan murmured. “Because you don’t need to stake your personal worth on my actions. I currently, and have always, considered you an amiable companion and a wonderful friend.”

Something in Roman’s expression broke.

Logan carefully set the mug down on the carpet. “Roman, would you like a hug?”

Roman eyed him warily. Logan opened his arms.

Roman rocketed into his grasp, grabbing at his shirt and burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright. Alright.” Taking a page out of Virgil’s book, Logan rubbed circles on Roman’s back. “I have you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“I—” Roman’s voice choked up, and now he was crying. He cried differently than Patton, loudly and almost dramatically. “I—I th-thought you decided you d-didn’t like us anymore—I thought I—d-did something—you f-finally got t-tired of me—”

“I could never get tired of you,” Logan said. “Who else can debate about iambic pentameter with me? Patton still thinks it’s a weird flavor of ice cream.”

Roman gave a choked laugh that soon dissolved into more sobs.

“I love you,” Logan said, ignoring the flip in his stomach. “I love you, Roman. I love all of you.” His heart ached to leave it there, but his traitorous mouth added “You are my best friends.”

Roman’s hands squeezed tighter around Logan’s waist. Logan slipped one of his hands under Roman’s and grasped it lightly.

“Do you want to go to the couch now?” Logan asked. “You are rather heavy and I feel we could best continue this hug sitting down and perhaps with your boyfriends.”

Roman froze. “I don’t wanna.”

“Are you worried they’ll be mad at you?”

The way Roman pressed his face into Logan’s shoulder was answer enough.

“Virgil! Patton!” Logan called. Virgil looked over and Patton took off his headphones. “Roman has something he would like to say to you.”

“I d-do?”

“Yes.” Logan pulled his chin up. “You will apologize, and they will forgive you. Then you can cuddle together.”

“I—” Roman glanced at the others. “I—Pat? Virge?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I—” His face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, I—I got insecure and I was mean to you and I love you, I love you so much, I’m so sorry—”

Patton smiled. “I love you too, Ro. I forgive you—if you’ll forgive me?”

Roman wiped his eyes. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a half smile. “It’s alright, Princey. I’m an idiot sometimes too.”

“C’mon over!” Patton added. “There’s more than enough room.”

Logan nodded, picking the mug back up and placing it in Roman’s hand. “Go ahead.”

With a grateful glance, Roman shuffled over to the couch. Patton held out an arm and Roman fell next to him, cuddling into his side. Virgil smiled and took Roman’s hand.

Logan spared a moment to watch them curl closer—they were so sweet—then walked over to the TV.

“You’ll probably be tired,” he said, grabbing the remote and closing Lilo & Stitch. “So we should put on something relaxing so you can fall asleep. Do you want to try a nature documentary? I find them quite calming in times of distress, as long as we choose to avoid the parts about global warming. Here’s an episode about lemurs. Would you like to watch that?”

Patton nodded, already dozing off in Virgil’s arms. Roman gave Logan a thumbs up.

Logan started the player. “Okay. Since you’ll be falling asleep here, we should minimize the uncomfortable nature of the couch.” He walked down the hallway and opened the linen closet, bringing back some extra blankets, comforters, and pillows. “Feel free to use these. If Virgil wishes, I can bring him anything he needs from our apartment. I’m aware you already have your headphones, but do you want your weighted blanket?”

Virgil paused and shook his head.

“Alright, thank you for clarifying.” Logan turned down the brightness of the TV. “That won’t hurt your eyes as much—Patton, take off your glasses, there you go—and I can turn off the lights throughout the apartment and lock the door on the way out. Is there anything else you need?”

Roman took a sip of tea, pulling a blanket over his legs. “Um, I think we’re good, Specs.”

“Lolo?” Patton shifted, hair covering his face. “Can I—um, I’d like—”

Logan smiled. “Let me guess. Your panda pillow?”

Patton smiled back.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Logan walked into Patton’s bedroom and took the soft panda pillow from the bed. Patton immediately brightened when he saw it and tucked it under his head, nestling into place with a soft sigh. The three of them were entangled now, legs intertwined. Patton rested on Virgil’s shoulder, Roman curled into Patton’s side, and Virgil’s arm stretched across the back of the sofa so he could hold hands with Roman.

“Is everyone all set to go?”

Roman sleepily nodded. The TV showed lemurs hopping back and forth. Virgil’s headphones were on again, his eyes trained on the screen.

“Good.” Logan turned off the kitchen lights and closed the open doors. “Then I will be going. I hope you have a pleasant rest and you can call me if you need me.”

Patton shifted, frowning. “You’re…leaving?”

“Well, yes.” Logan pressed his lips together. “The problem is concluded to the best of my ability, so I assumed I would take my leave.”

Virgil met his eyes. “Stay? Please?”

Heat seared across Logan’s face as Patton reached out and made little grabby hands.

Sighing—he couldn’t tell them no, he knew that, it was a physically impossible concept when they were so sleepy and soft and adorable and Newton was he hopeless—Logan moved back over and carefully placed his glasses on the coffee table. Patton tugged him into the pile of blankets, and after a few moments of maneuvering, Logan was secured firmly in the middle of the couch. On his left, Patton cuddled up to him, pressing into his shoulder and humming with contentment. Roman wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Virgil gave Logan’s hair a ruffle. On the screen, the narrator talked about the eating habits of lemurs. Everything was a blur without his glasses. The blankets and pillows were soft and warm and heavy. Patton was breathing slowly, his hair rustling with each exhale. Roman was watching the lemurs, a small smile on his face. Virgil closed his eyes and bobbed his head to his music.

Logan hadn’t realized how tired he was. It was probably the lack of sleep and his ruined circadian rhythms. Definitely not the comforting weight of others near him, reminding him that he was safe, not alone, loved.

Closing his eyes, Logan succumbed to sleep.

Logan wasn’t really awake.

He wasn’t asleep either, because he could hear Virgil shift and the strains of the credit sequence for the TV show—it wasn’t the same show he’d left on, he noticed, so time must have passed. But he was tired, and warm, and happy, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He just wanted to sink back into sleep. The blankets were heavy around him, something soft was under his head, a comforting weight in his hair and oh, it was moving, someone was scratching his head, why hadn’t he tried this before it felt absolutely heavenly—

The fingers pressed into his scalp and Logan whined, leaning into the touch. When was the last time he let someone near him? He’d started refusing hugs a while ago after the three of them started dating. He didn’t realize he missed it so much.

Someone chuckled above him. “You’re so adorable when you’re sleeping.”

“Who’s adorable?” said another sleepy voice.

“Look at Logan.”

A muffled squeal came from his left. “Aww, he’s all curled up!”

“Watch this,” Roman said—that was Roman, right? Oh no, was he cuddling with Roman? He needed to wake up, he needed to stop being in this compromising position—

Roman was scratching his head again, and all coherent and rational thought flew out the figurative window.

Logan whined again. He couldn’t help himself. Patton squealed even louder. “He’s so adorable!”

“I know, right?” Roman’s voice was softer than Logan had ever heard, except maybe when addressing Virgil or Patton. “He’s the cutest.”

“And so helpful,” Patton added. “We need to thank him later, guys. Like, serious surprise party thank-you cookies and fun-times thank you.”

“He fixed everything, didn’t he? He knew exactly how to help.” Roman shifted, and before Logan knew it, he’d gotten a small kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for everything, you amazing little nerd.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. Right—Virgil. Virgil was there. His voice was hoarse with sleep. “I don’t know what we’d do without him—”

Virgil paused.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked. “You alright?”

“Shit.”

“What?” Roman asked, jostling Logan. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Virgil hesitated. “I think I figured something out.”

“What is it?” Patton asked.

And Logan tried to prick his ears for the answer, but sleep overcame him again, and he fell into darkness with Roman holding him upright.

Logan needed coffee.

Extricating himself from the blankets, he saw that Virgil, Patton, and Roman had already left the couch and were discussing something in one corner of the kitchen. Blearily, he wiped his eyes and placed his glasses on his face. The sharper focus revealed a pensive look on Virgil’s face, an excited look on Patton’s, and a nervous look on Roman’s.

Logan stumbled to his feet and headed for the coffee maker. Their conversation was none of his business. He also had a vague memory of cuddling up to Roman, which made his face flush every time he recalled it, so he would rather avoid talking to them until the embarrassment wore off.

The conversation abruptly stopped when Logan approached. That was odd, but Logan was too sleepy to remark on it. Wow, was it nine o’clock already? Good thing he had no classes until three.

Filling a mug with coffee, he downed a few mouthfuls and felt the caffeine buzz through him. Feeling more awake, he turned to the others, only to find they were staring at him.

“What?” he asked self-consciously. He touched his hair to see if it was mussed. It was. He combed it roughly with his fingers, but a few locks still stuck up in the air.

“Um—” Roman squeaked. “Nothing!”

“Do I have something on my face?” Logan looked between Patton, who had a sheepish grin, Roman, who was blushing furiously, and Virgil, who stared at the ground. “What is happening?”

“Just tell him how you feel,” Virgil muttered to himself, clenching his fists. “There’s no good reason not to.”

“What?” Logan placed his coffee on the counter. “Is everything alright? Is there a problem?”

“L?” Virgil glanced at the others, who gave him encouraging glances. “I—we. We need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Well.” Virgil fiddled with his jacket. “I guess I’ll just spit it out then? I…we…why did you make me do this, guys? I’m terrible at it!”

Roman snorted. “Well, I’m certainly not doing it!”

“You can do this, kiddo.” Patton smiled at Virgil. “We’ve got your back.”

“Take your time, Virgil.” Logan looked at him with concern. “There’s no pressure.”

“I just—” Virgil screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t want this to ruin anything.”

“I doubt it would ruin anything,” Logan said. “Unless you’ve committed a serious felony or have secretly been a flat-earther this entire time, I think our relationship will survive.”

Roman snickered.

“Right. Okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “Well. On the subject of—relationships…”

Logan nodded and ignored the jolt that passed through his subjects.

“It’s like a Band-Aid, you’ve just got to rip it off.” Virgil clenched his fists. “Weallfiguredoutwekindasortalikeyoumorethanafriend!”

Logan blinked. “What?”

“We like you,” Patton clarified. “Romantically.”

“Oh, there you are,” Virgil mumbled, eyes still closed. “You couldn’t have stepped in earlier?”

Logan’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. Logan.exe had crashed. “What?”

“I don’t know how we could make it clearer, Specs.” Roman was smiling, but his tone betrayed a hint of nervousness. “You’re cute and we wanna date you.”

“Only if you want to!” Patton added hastily. “We don’t want to pressure you into anything and I know you probably don’t think of us that way, or at least not all of us, but we thought we should clear the air and admit it.”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it.

“So…” Virgil shifted. “Yeah, L. What they said.”

Finally, Logan found his voice. “How long?”

“What?” Patton asked.

“How long have you…felt this way?”

Roman laughed. “About two years? I fell for you when I fell for the others. It was all three of you at once—a triple-whammy crush cavalcade, if you will. It was a nightmare.”

“Two years?” Logan repeated. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I felt awkward about it.” Roman shrugged, looking away. “And you made it very clear you didn’t like me back.”

Hell no. I would never want to date you. You’re just not my type.

Shit.

“I started more recently, I think?” Patton tapped his chin. “Soon after Roman and Virgil and I started dating. It was lovely, but I always felt like something—someone—was missing.” He shot Logan a soft smile. “Turns out it was you, Lolo.”

“I…er, I only figured it out last night.” Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “But yeah. For a while, probably. Maybe even before Roman. You’ve just—you’ve always been there, constant, and…I guess I never knew how much I relied on that. I—yeah. You’re—yeah.” He rubbed his blushing face. “Sorry, I’m—I’m bad with words.”

Logan tried to wrangle his thoughts into a coherent sentence, but his cheeks were burning, his chest was flaming, and his eyes were stinging.

“So that’s that, I guess?” Roman rubbed at his arm. “You don’t—you don’t have to like us back, dude. We just wanted to get that out in the open. Like you advised, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed with a smile. “Can you imagine if we just bottled up our feelings and avoided the situation altogether? You’d be very disappointed in us, Lolo.”

Logan stared at him. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he began to chuckle.

“What is it?” Roman asked.

Logan shook his head, laughing harder. He grabbed onto the counter for support as he cracked up. His eyes were leaking fluid now as he doubled over.

“What happened?” Virgil asked. “L, you good?”

“I—give me a sec—” Logan tried to pull himself together, but soon he lost it again. “I—the irony, I can’t believe this—”

“Um…” Roman frowned. “Much as I hate to interrupt a laugh session, especially because this is undeniably endearing, could you enlighten us on the cause of this ruckus? Or have you just gone full Joker?”

“I-I’m fine—” Logan kept laughing, rubbing at his eyes.

“Uh, you sure, kiddo?” Patton said, his voice far too concerned for the situation. “’Cause, um, you’re—"

A tear slipped down his face, and oh. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was crying.

“L?” Virgil asked.

Logan was crying openly now. He covered his face with his sleeve and tried to wipe away the tears, but whenever one dried, another fell. His face felt hot and sick and disgusting. He wanted to stop crying, to stop looking so foolish in front of them, but his breath refused to be caught and his crying refused to cease.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. This was good news! There was nothing to be sad about!

“Lo?” Patton stepped forward, arms open. “Do you need a hug? It looks like you need a hug.”

Logan couldn’t speak, but he managed a nod.

And Patton was hugging him, cradling him against his chest and the contact just made Logan cry harder because this is what he could have had, this is what he was missing—

“I’m an idiot,” Logan choked out. “I am a complete, foolish idiot.”

“What?” Roman asked. “How dare you slander yourself like this! I don’t quite know why you’re saying that, or why you started crying, but I can assure you that you are a very smart human!”

“You don’t get it.” Logan wiped his eyes. For some reason, he was still smiling. Was he happy? Were these happy tears? He felt terrible, but there was a glow in his chest and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“What don’t we get?” Patton asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“I—” Logan looked around at them all, concerned and compassionate and beautiful. “I’ve been in love with the three of you for more than a year.”

Roman made a noise like a squeaky toy being stepped on.

“What?” Virgil stared him down. “You’re kidding.”

Weakly, Logan shook his head.

“But…” Patton frowned. “Lolo, you got us all together!”

“Y-yes.” Logan scrubbed his face. “You seemed happy with each other, I was glad to play the figurative matchmaker if it was what you wanted.”

Patton pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

“Shit, L.” Virgil shook his head. “Shit.”

“What did we do to deserve you?” Roman mumbled.

“In fairness,” Logan said, “I only figured it out last week.”

“A-at Roman’s evening?” Patton looked about to cry as well. “I—I thought you were acting off, I didn’t realize—”

“That’s why you avoided us, wasn’t it?” Roman seemed to search Logan’s face for denial. When he found none, his face crumpled. “You avoided us because you liked us?”

“I—I did not want things to become awkward between us. I wanted time to sort things out and see if those feelings would—” Logan waved a hand. “Dissipate of their own accord. But I was too far gone, and I—then you called me, and I couldn’t leave you alone, I couldn’t—”

“Shit,” Virgil said again.

“You know,” Patton said with a soft smile, “if you’d have just taken your own smart advice, we could have started dating weeks ago. Maybe even months.”

“Doubtful,” Logan admitted. “Feelings are not my strong suit. I would not have figured it out any earlier than I did.”

“And that’s okay.” Virgil reached forward and took Logan’s hand. “You’re doing alright, L. Better than alright.”

“You got us together, after all!” Roman agreed. “Even if that was unnecessarily self-sacrificing on your part. And you helped us last night, too. I suppose only one question remains…”

“Will you,” Patton finished, “consider being our boyfriend?”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil immediately added. “If you don’t feel ready, or you want to try dating one of us at a time, that’s completely fine—”

Logan began to smile. “I—I think I can give it a shot. All of you. I want to engage in romantic relations with you. If—if that’s alright.”

Patton squealed, and Roman’s smile was wider than Logan had ever seen it. Virgil just squeezed Logan’s hand, and Logan squeezed back.

“Group hug time!” Patton proclaimed.

“Don’t we have to eat breakfast?” Logan asked.

“Oh!” Patton giggled. “Right! I’ll make us some pancakes. Then we can have some cuddles!”

“Perfect!” Roman proclaimed. “Maybe watch a Disney movie? We’ve got a lot of missed movie-nights to make up for!”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Only if we can watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. And only if Pat lets me supervise the pancakes.”

Patton frowned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Virgil said, “but Princey here would totally add like five containers of sugar or set the entire thing on fire when your back is turned.”

Roman gasped. “Rude! I’ll have you know that was one time, and the firefighters were very nice about it!”

“We can all help with the pancakes,” Patton compromised. “Lolo can read the instructions, ‘cause he’s good with books and Virge can help me mix ingredients.”

“What about me?” Roman asked.

Virgil smirked. “You can play your Disney songs and sneak bits of batter while pretending you’re helping.”

Roman opened his mouth, shrugged, and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great!” Patton grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him over to the kitchen. “Let’s go!”

And Logan spent half the morning making pancakes, getting flour in his hair, Roman placing batter on his nose so Patton would kiss it off, Virgil sitting on the counter and refusing to get off. The pancakes turned out delicious, and after eating a very late breakfast—it’s brunch, Specs, how do you fail so hard at being gay—they curled up on the couch once more and started on their Disney marathons. It turned out that Roman and Virgil shared Logan’s proclivity for discussing the movie while watching it, but Roman geared more towards insults and Virgil just threw popcorn at all the sappy scenes. Patton remained quiet, toying with Logan’s hair and snuggled into Roman’s side, smiling at them like they were his favorite things in the world.

Logan Mackenzie didn’t understand his feelings, not completely. But he did know that he loved them. He knew that they loved him back. He knew that he had never felt happier than now, sitting on the couch with his boyfriends—boyfriends! They were his boyfriends! The novelty still hadn’t worn off.

He loved them, and he could figure the rest out another day, with a little help.

Logan loved them. For now, and forever, that was enough.

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

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