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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 months

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Starved | Famished

Augh the creativitwins fic,, I loved it so so much, they'rebrothersyour honor, I wonder how would the others react when they realize what they did to Roman. Especially Logan – anon

*materializes into existence* Hi :D Idk if I've said this yet, so excuse me if I've repeated myself. Quick Note: don't have to write it if ya don't want to, btw. Take care of yourself <3 Le Request: mother hen Virgil. In any h/c situation. In any au or canonverse. (I just finished the latest addition to Code Words AND I just binged the Protector/Protecting/Protected series. Holy hell. You're one of my favorites) Anyway, hope you're doing well :D – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: starvation, cannibalism (implied very loosely)

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3502

For Logan, working with Remus can be something of a mixed bag. On one hand, it can be incredibly rewarding to work together on a project and see it come to fruition; Remus's boundless passion is inspiring and refreshing in its own unique way. On the other, however, Remus has a tendency to…craft things that then eventually become Logan's responsibility.

He's helping Remus peruse the remnants of the latest Nightmare clean-up, going over what can be broken down safely in the Imagination and what needs to be sectioned off and dealt with at a later time, preferably with at least Virgil's help but perhaps the others as well. He's just finishing cataloging a particularly fascinating specimen that originated in something closer to Janus's side of things when he hears a voice coming from…somewhere.

"Rise above," the voice is saying, "become more than the biological drives that so harness your body. You are more than those fickle urges that drive you, you are more than the slavish brute they would make of you."

Logan raises an eyebrow, turning to locate the source of the voice.

"Rise above," it says again, "you are better than insatiable beasts. You are more than your hunger. Do not let your appetite for more overwhelm your rationality."

As he walks toward it, he spots a box on the very corner of Remus's shelf, set aside from the rest of them. Most of the Nightmares come in silver boxes with two latches on the side and a sort of projection screen that shows its contents depending on the volatility of the subject matter. This one, the one the voice is coming out of, is a dark box that has no seams or doors of any kind. And yet, as he gets closer, the very center of it becomes transparent and he peers through to see the silhouette of a man in a long, dark coat, giving some sort of speech.

"We are not uncivilized," he says as Logan's hand reaches for the box, "we are not beyond reason! We are not to give in to this thing that would seek to master us."

So entranced does he become by the speech that he fails to notice the edges of the room are blurring, that his hand has begun to stretch impossibly long toward the center of the box, nor that the man is growing closer and closer.

"Hunger is a prison," the man says as Logan finds the words on his own tongue, "and we are not beasts to be caged."

The sudden roar of a crowd jolts him from his stupor and he looks around to realize he's in a square, surrounded by people, standing at the base of a stage upon which this man holds his arms out to accept the applause. He looks up at this ashen, grey-faced figure and immediately takes in how thin he is, how much the coat even around his narrow frame snaps and blows about in the wind. He pulls his arms a little closer to himself and slowly begins to take off his tie.

Everyone else is clad in thick cloaks and almost worn garments. The chill is not insubstantial but they huddle together as though it were the depths of winter. Every face is shrewd and beady-eyed, wary of their immediate neighbor as though at any moment, they might be attacked. Only a scarce few look normal: the guards around the side of the stage, clad in a dark blue uniform not too dissimilar to his own aesthetic, and another official with a flat cap and a crest around his neck.

He looks back up at the man on the stage, then around at the rest of the square. Thankfully, whatever pulled him in here had the sense to put him near the peripheries of the crowd, but not right at the edges where he could immediately be noticed. He looks to be at the base of some big official building with transit streets leading out in all directions. A veritable cornucopia for whoever this man in power seems to be. There don't seem to be any particularly modern aspects to it. Horse-drawn carts carry rows and rows of crates. Young children selling newspapers stand at the corners, though they don't seem to be trying very hard to sell their papers. Blank grey business fronts sit between cold and desolated empty spaces with covered or broken windows above them.

In short, the place feels miserable.

Someone bumps into him and he realizes the crowd is starting to disperse. Not to be caught looking like he doesn't know where he's going, he follows a larger group toward the front of another building where a large board hangs, seemingly the equivalent of a news bulletin or at the very least, something else for him to stand in front of and not be questioned for it.

The crest of a fanged crown sits at the top, under which are the words RATIONS DELAYED, SHIPMENT HIJACKED. A few people mutter amongst themselves. Logan frowns as he looks around. This place doesn't seem to be a warzone, nor does it feel as though it has the urgency of a city supporting a war effort. Perhaps a natural disaster, then? But the infrastructure is holding up so well that it's hard to see what it might be.

"My child."

It's such an unexpected form of address that it takes Logan a second to realize it's directed at him, but when everyone else starts edging away he turns around and comes face to face with the man from the stage.

"Hello. My apologies, I didn't mean to be rude."

"No offense taken." This close, the man's voice takes on a near-silky quality that nevertheless makes the hairs on the back of Logan's neck stand up. "I saw you listening to the sermon and your reaction captivated me."

Logan adjusts his grip on his notebook. "Oh?"

The man nods, clasping his bone-thin grey fingers in front of himself. "You see, it has been quite some time since someone has attended one of our little events and looked so…well-fed."

As he says the words 'well-fed,' his eyes travel up and down Logan's body.

"I must admit, I was…it was refreshing to hear such a sermon," Logan says, "I have not often heard such sentiments conveyed so eloquently. It can be frustrating, when there is so much that you wish to communicate but you can't find the words."

The man bows his head. "You flatter me."

"Your eloquence is something to be proud of."

"Come," the man says, beckoning with a single crooked finger, "walk with me aways."

Logan follows him as they turn about the square, passing another billboard stating the rations shipment has been hijacked. The man spares a passing glance upwards.

"Shame," Logan says quietly, "isn't it?"

The man shrugs. "You cannot hope for everyone to be reasonable, nor can you see reason for them. There will always be those that believe we deserve to feed."

Logan nods along to the first part of that, but then he hears the second. "Apologies, what did you say?"

"There will always be those that believe in giving in to hunger. To allow ourselves to whet that dangerous thing known as appetite." The man shakes his head. "We much be vigilant, you know."

Surely…surely this has to be some metaphor. Surely they're not actually starving themselves. But they keep walking, further and further, until Logan notices something else.

Out of all of the things he's seen posters or boards for, out of all the buildings around square, out of everything he can see, hear, smell, everything, there is not a single mention of food.

He has an awful feeling about his perceived 'metaphor.'

"What will we do," he asks after they've started down another side street, still tailed by a few of the guards, "if the rations never arrive?"

"Then we will have to source from somewhere else."

"How long will that take?"

"It's hard to say, really," the man remarks as the air begins to turn reddish-brown, the street becoming littered with trash, refuse, scraps of paper. "Perhaps a few months."

Logan frowns. "But what shall we do in the meantime?"

"We shall press on, as we always have. We have almost switched entirely over to the pills, after all, and soon we will eliminate the need for food entirely."

Definitely not a metaphor. Definitely not a metaphor.

They pass by an alley. Down a block, Logan catches sight of a massive obstruction through the fog—when did the fog get here? Now that he's paying attention to it, a thick and soupy red fog has started to swell from the bottom of the buildings, almost as though it were coming from the street itself. It doesn't rise higher than his knees before it starts to dissipate, tendrils of mist curling up almost like steam as it rises into the air, but the swirling clouds don't do anything to soothe the grip on his notebook.

"There must be something to be done," he says as they pass by another obstruction, "surely all these people can't just starve."

"Ah, but to starve is to be free," the man says, "after all, to truly allow the hunger to run its course without being affected by its lure, that is the greatest freedom of all."

"Dying isn't freedom," Logan points out, "to starve is to die."

The man turns to look at him. His eyes, sunken into his skin, jaundiced and piercing. "All things die, my child. Will you die a beast, or a man?"

"What point is there in dying faster because you don't eat?"

Behind them, the officials get closer. One of them reaches for something in a pocket and Logan tenses.

"You are well-fed," the man says again, pointing a single, thin finger at him as the officer blows a whistle, "and you will never know what ecstasy it is to be hungry."

A deep and guttural snarling comes from the other end of the alley. Logan whips around to see two horrifying spider-like monsters crawling out of the mist. Their mandibles drool black ichor, eyes blind and unseeing but trained on him. They move with a sinister mockery of life as they begin to walk toward him. He backs up automatically only to run into a bat jabbed into his spine.

The officials form a blockade behind him as the spider monsters get closer and closer. His heart pounds. They seem to sense it and one of them snarls, rearing up as its front two legs come off the ground, lunging for him—

Another roar splits the air.

From between the spiders charges a massive hulking bear, maw dripping and eyes crazed as it bursts through the middle of the alley. Logan barely has time to throw his hands up and defend himself before the bear knocks him over and seizes him in its jaws. He cries out as it picks him up bodily and turns, running away from the officials, the man, and the monsters with him held in its jaws.

Is this how he dies? Does he get eaten here? Is the bear taking him back to kill him? Frantically, he tries to remember what you're supposed to do around bears but all that comes to mind is how to get a bear to stay away from you. In a panic, he goes to hit it with his notebook, but then he catches its gaze.

Some of the mania vanishes. The bear looks at him and for a second, he recognizes its eyes. This is how Remus's Kraken looks at him, or how Roman's dragon looks, or how any of the sentient creatures in the Imagination look when he stumbles across them.

He's safe, somehow, and he's being taken somewhere better.

That being said, being carried in a bear's jaws as it runs full speed through the forest is not exactly a pleasant journey. He suffers more than a fair few scrapes and scratches as he blunders into branches and bushes, over hills and through the underbrush. Eventually, he feels the bear slow and deposits him none-too-gently in a heap in the dip of a valley.

"Oh, hey, what'd you—Logan?"

Logan looks up to see Remus and Virgil. Remus has his hands full of something Logan will ask about with the safety of rubber gloves and an apron, and Virgil's perched on a rock. A low groaning noise from behind him and he looks to see the bear shrinking, coming out of its giant and frenzied state until it's just a cub that whuffs quietly and slinks over to Remus, lolling on the ground.

"Hey, buddy, is that why you ran off so fast?"

The bear huffs again and Remus leans down to rub their heads together.

"You're such a good boy."

"What're you doing in here, L," Virgil asks, getting up and pulling a first-aid kit out of his hoodie, "and why do you look like—well, why do you look like you've been carried through the woods by a bear?"

He crouches down and starts cleaning some of the scratches on Logan's arms.

"You know you gotta have one of them when you come in here, buddy, even when you think you know where you're going. And look at this—you gotta be more careful, you know there's some shit in here."

Logan finds himself oddly recalcitrant as Virgil starts tending to his wounds, even though he knows he should just let him. Sure enough, the moment he starts trying to pull away, Virgil looks up and raises an eyebrow and immediately he slumps and lets Virgil do what he wants.

"What's going on, bud?"

"I wasn't trying to come in here," Logan says mulishly, "I didn't even come here. Not really. I didn't use the doors."

"So then how'd you get here?"

"Don't move so much," Virgil scolds as he turns to face Remus, "you're gonna rip this one open again."

"The box on your shelf. The dark one."

Remus fully stops what he's doing to look at Logan. The bear cub growls. He vanishes whatever he's working on and grabs a rag from his pocket to wipe off his hands. He leans down to scratch the bear cub behind the ears and takes a deep breath.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Logan recounts the story, from hearing the voice, to finding himself in the square, to being in the alley when the horrific spider things came out, to being rescued by the bear cub. Remus listens attentively as Virgil finishes tending to his wounds.

"You went into someone's intrusive thoughts," Remus says when once again, Logan asks what happened, "sometimes they're strong enough to manifest into actual places in the Imagination."

"Thomas doesn't have a history of eating disorders, and it isn't as though he hasn't been eating lately—"

"Not just that kind of hunger, L," Virgil says quietly, going back to the rock as the bear cub sits up, "and it's not…fuck, I'm not gonna be good at explaining this without violating someone's privacy."

Logan frowns. "What?"

"Those aren't Thomas's intrusive thoughts, they're a Side's."

"Who's hungry?"

"I don't know, Logan," Remus says in a voice that communicates that he does know, and so should Logan, "who do you think is hungry?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes, you do."

"What else did they say," Virgil says quietly, "in that place, what else were they talking about?"

Logan frowns, thinking hard. Something about being more than just beasts, something about rising above, something about being more than…than base desires, that was it. More than hunger.

Base desire, base desire, why does that ring a bell?

"Is it Patton?"

"Why Patton?"

"He out of all of us is the most connected to things like emotions, or shame, or guilt."

"It's not Patton."

"Janus, then? He—well, no, that wouldn't be it either."

"You're unbelievable," Remus growls, even as Virgil quietly says his name. The bear cub snarls at him too.

"What? What did I do?"

"Really? You can't fucking figure it out? They literally talked about suppressing base desires and not giving into stupid basic needs and all this stuff about being too smart for it, too good for it, how awful it is to spend time feeding the basic part of you that just wants to feel and you're having a problem figuring out what you did?"

"I don't know what you're talking about! I don't—when have I ever told anyone it's okay not to eat?"

The bear cub nearly lunges at him but Remus catches it by the scruff of its neck. "Here, then, here's an easier question. The crest. The insignia. Did you see it?"

"Yes, I saw it."

"What did it look like?"

He frowns again, trying to conjure it up. It was…it had something to do with teeth, didn't it? Yes, it was teeth around something else. Something…something metal, wasn't it? A fanged metal something…a fanged…

"A crown," he says slowly, "it was a crown surrounded by teeth."

Remus stares at him. So does Virgil.

Oh.

Oh, no.

***

Roman wakes up cold. He curls up under his blankets, trying to find a little bit of warmth, before he sighs and drags himself out of bed toward the door to the Imagination. It swings open and brings him to a quiet grove in the middle of the forest, under the branches of a tree sparkling in the starlight with drops of dew. Moon lilies and other night flowers glow gently as he sits down with the blanket, curling up to lean against the soft mossy rock. A warm breeze blows across his cheeks as he tries to get warm again.

He hears a quiet snuffling sound and turns to see Remus's bear cub walking up to him, curling up at his side with its head a comforting weight in his lap. One shaking hand carefully brushes the rough fur and the cub growls contentedly, shifting Roman's hand to where it wants it.

"Roro?"

"Re?" He turns to see Remus walking toward him. "Are—did I wake you up?"

"Nah. I'm—well, I'm technically asleep right now, I guess." He gestures down at himself. "Astral form."

"Oh. Uh—"

"You're fine," he says, sitting down on Roman's other side, "nightmare again?"

"Not really. I just felt off today and I got—my room got really cold so I came in here." The bear cub presses its nose against his knee. "Hi, buddy."

"I, uh—" Remus leans up against his shoulder— "I might know why you felt really shitty today."

"Really?"

"Logan—so Logan helps me do stuff sometimes, right?" Roman nods. "Well…he found the place I'd been keeping your intrusive thoughts to deal with their byproduct later and he fell into it."

Fuck. Fuck, oh no— "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Remus says as the cub growls, "and we—Virgil and I may have knocked some sense into him."

Roman frowns. "Meaning…?"

"Meaning that I owe you quite the apology."

Roman startles and the cub growls louder as Logan walks out of the forest too, standing a respectful distance away. Remus excuses himself and Logan slowly takes his place, a little further away when the cub starts to growl at him.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "I never…I never meant for you to feel like you had to starve yourself. You're not just some base desire to ignore, you're a lovely and priceless part of Thomas. You…you deserve to feed too, Roman."

"L-Logan, I—"

"Can I hug you, little one?"

Roman just sniffles and holds out his arms and Logan wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. The cub allows it, its nose still pressed against Roman's knee as Logan cards his fingers through his hair.

"I'm here for you," he whispers, "I will be here for you. I'll do better."

"I'm not trying to be needy, I'm just—"

"You can need things," Logan interrupts gently, "you can need things. That's being alive, that's being us, that's…that's okay, Roman."

The cub snuffles in agreement.

"Will—can we stay like this for a while, please?"

"Of course."

***

"So," Remus says, clapping his hands, "what should we do this time?"

"Logan," Virgil asks, "any ideas?"

"How would you feel about blowing up a government building?"

"Excellent."

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #fic

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anothertimdrakestan · 3 years

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Dying In The YJ Boy's Arms

i got so many requests for this after the first one which you can find it here (also i reread it and it's pretty scuffed so i'm shocked y'all love it so much) anywho, enjoy!

also tw // blood and gore and death (duh)

bart allen:

- "bart, bart, breathe." you dug your elbow into your wound trying to breathe through the searing pain. bart stood in front of you, hyperventilating at your current state

- "i-i-i wasn't fast enough, i should've been faster theres gotta be something oh my god, a hospital! lets get you to a hospital you're gonna be fine it's okay!" he reached to pick you up bridal style like all those other times he'd carried you around the world, but for the first time you pushed him away with a wince

- "bart you know this is no good, it's too late for me but that's alright. i'm okay." you suppressed a shudder, your nerves crying and screaming at ever movement.

- "no! there has to be something! cmon, we can just-" you cut him off, "Bartholomew Henry Allen you will not drag me anywhere, i will not let you waste your last new minutes with me."

- you watched him go through about 200 different thoughts in a matter of seconds but that was pretty average for him

- in a zip he was seated next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while his arm draped around your shoulder

- "does it hurt?" he whispered, linking your free hand in his. as he rubbed light circles on your hand you found a smile through the pain, "just a tad, it'll go away soon i'm sure."

- you didn't exactly know what to expect, but as death wraps its cold fingers around you there was your speedster to keep you warm

- "i'll find you again you know, multiverse, gates of hell, white picket fence of heaven i'll be there." bart said, determination wiping away the grief.

- "just don't forget my okay? know that i'll be with you even in spirit." you tried to cool his flame, knowing him he'd be running himself out in just a couple hours

- he gave you a nod, pulling your lips to his with a heartfelt goodbye

- as the pain increased tears prickled from your eyes, trying to stay strong in the last moment you had

- "i can make it painless you know, vibrate your molecules so fast it doesn't register" bart whispered, cradling you in his arms as you let out a wimper and a nod

- with a promise of your rescue, bart let out a sob, knowing that he had to let you go, that you were in an debilitating amount of pain, but his selfish side wanted to relish in every ounce of life you had

- ultimately he let you go, clutching to the last moments of your warmth until you were truly gone

- he wouldn't be okay. hair grown out, eyes dull, speed practically useless, a mental block would appear- why does he need to be fast if he wasn't fast enough to save the one thing he cared about? it would take month, multiple failed rescue missions that almost cost him his own life before he'd get the help he needed, and who knows maybe one day he'd find the key to brining yoy to his side once again, god knows he'd never truly let you go.

wally west:

- wally is the speedster that is known for outrunning it all, so i doubt he'd ever let you die unless it was long and impending

- for an enevitable death wally would show you the world, you'd be ran from the top of the eiffel tower to the smooth sandy beaches of hawaii and every place inbetween

- you'd take pictures of everything, hundreds of candid photos of you kissing wall on the cheek or laughing at some funny face he's making

- on Tim's credit card the two of you would eat the best food around the world, staying up way too late in hotels with suites fit for a king (thanks Wayne Ent)

- as much as Wally loved to speed around, there would be night when you had to slow him down, reminding him what was really happening and that he couldn't run away from this one

- after a whirlwind of a few months you'd end up in a hospital bed, Wally would be glued to your side, bringing you the finest of cuisines and the best of jokes trying to make you ~situation~ more manageable

- there was one day when you woke up and you knew, Wally felt it too- he met your eyes that morning and saw the last grasp of life fighting for release

- you spent the last few hours curled into his chest, it started with him trying to come up with insane ways to bring you back to life, but it ended with him crying in your shoulder as he realized it was the end

- just minutes before you let go you gave him a box of all the printed pictures, "something to remember me by" you gave him a soft smile but soon his lips crashed against yours

- "there's not a chance in hell i forget you, not a chance. but thank you, i just wish we had a little more time."

- once you're gone i think Wally would have a newfound perspective on time, forever the speedster who lost the one thing he loved- from a reason he couldn't outrun or fight or solve. his only reason for continuing on is knowing that when he does meet you years and years into the future you'll greet him with open arms and be proud of all he had accomplished

gar logan:

- when you jumped in front of gar to save him you didn't really think about the aftermath, you'd assumed it would be a one-and-done situation: you get shot and die he lives on and is an amazing hero

- it was so much more heart wrenching than that

- the guttural roar that escaped his chest when you took the grim reapers grasp in his place ripped through the earth's core itself

- almost instantly whatever foe he faced would be dead, and he'd rush to pull you into his arms for your last few moments

- his visions would be cloudy with tears as he wiped the blood from you lips

- "don't cry gar, you've got so much to do" you'd whisper, nestling further into his embrace. there's a point before it all ends where it doesn't hurt anymore, what a brilliant decision by the creator of human kind - you felt on top of the world and simultaneously so weak

- "i don't want to do it without you" he whined, watching the color drain from you face

- "you're gonna do such big things my love, i had to get you the chance to thrive, now it's starting to hurt again so hold me close and tell me you love me while i go alright?" gar was never great at knowing what to do, his entire body was basically shutting down in shock but he held you nonetheless, gently swaying back and forth; periodically he wiped the tears trickling from the corner of your eyes

- "see you soon gar, i'll be your guardian angle now i suppose" you smiled into the darkness fading into the warmth of his embrace

- only once you were gone did he let it out, screeching, crying, begging, just letting the universe have all the anger pent up inside of him. he left with more than a promise, an oath to do the guardian angel on his shoulder proud. i like to think he'd frequently shift to your favorite animal of his almost to imagine the smile that used to light up on your face

hope u liked it! comments mean the world to me n i check the reblogs haha <3

#young justice #young justice headcanons #bart allen #bart allen x reader #bart allen headcanon #wally west #wally west x reader #wally west headcanon #gar logan #garfield logan #gar logan x reader #kid flash x reader #impulse x reader #beast boy x reader #wally west angst #dc fanfic #young justice fanfic

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Vaincre

Part ii: August

For the hope of it all

The river was crowded, but the pier was their own.

Happy Birthday Harzy, was spelled out in big balloon letters, turning in the summer breeze, backwards and bumping.

Logan stood at the waterfront and looked at Leo’s—as it was mostly Leo’s—handiwork. Lobster rolls and soft-shell crab buffet, corn bread and iced tea. Chilled white and orange wines. Summer dresses fluttered and crossed each other as people talked, making new patterns, and Logan let himself settle into the laughter. He had a bad habit of taking peace and worrying it away. He didn’t want to do that today. He wanted to watch Finn enjoy himself, his team, his family. Logan had spent every one of Finn’s birthdays with their Harvard team, and then there had been that one, horribly absent year when Finn had been in Gryffindor and he hadn’t—not yet. He wanted to watch the way Leo put his long arms around his friends, in the same way his mother did, warm and strong. Logan wanted to watch without feeling that sharp tug of worry. He couldn’t have even said what he was worrying about. It was vague.

He’d done a lot of watching this summer. He loved it to the point of never wanting to do anything else. Finn and Leo were alike to each other in more ways than Logan would ever be. Whatever rapid-fire conversation they were in the middle of would often quickly leave Logan behind, but Logan didn’t care as long as he got them stumbling and laughing over each other to try and explain it to him—a book, a TV show, some sort of video game. He knew they liked telling him about it, and Logan loved watching them love things—including himself. Logan had never thought of himself as acting as a grounding point before. That had always been Finn or Leo. He always felt too wild in his own head, unsure, reserved. Vague. But Leo had said it to him this summer.

“When me and Finn lived together, we stayed up so late just talking,” Leo had said one early morning on the beach when they had left Finn sleeping. Logan wouldn’t be quick to forget the feeling of just being able to hold Leo’s hand for so long, in such an open space.

Leo had kissed the back of his palm too many times for Logan to think he’d be forgetting it, either.

“And you and I did the same thing, you know?” Leo continued. “On roadies.”

“Playing cards,” Logan smiled. “And our sundaes.”

Leo nodded, and his smile grew a little softer. He stared at his toes digging into the sand. “And I knew how connected you two were. Well, I guess not how connected, but I knew you two were better friends than anyone on the team, even Sirius and James. Even if you didn’t always act like it. I feel like good friends can do that, handle distance and snap back into place.”

“And?” Logan remembered asking playfully. “Which long talks were better?”

Leo just laughed. “No, no. Not better. Finn talking is like…wild. Like wind. Talking to you is stillness. I love both. The point is, that was…that was my connection. To both of you.” He had cleared his throat then, and given Logan’s hand a squeeze. “My mama always says if you can talk to someone forever then—“

“They’re yours forever,” Logan finished. “My maman says the same thing.”

Leo’s answering smile had been blinding.

An arm circled his waist, another pressing right over his heart.

“Nice party,” Finn said softly into his ear, and Logan only had a moment in that warmth before it was gone, wary of prying eyes. It made Logan miss France, and their brief stay at his mother’s family home that summer.

No one had known them there, and Leo had adored the markets, cooking elaborate meals while Finn and Logan had sat on the counter, watching him and loving him. They’d eaten out on the stone patio, overlooking the sea.

Finn looked a little like he had there, cheeks sun-hot. Logan wanted to reach for them, as he had then, cool them with his thumb. Finn smiled, making the sun-kissed skin crease a little.

“What?” he asked.

Logan shook his head. “Remember that picture?” he asked. “The one of us. It was on your wall at Harvard, you were standing behind me, hand on my chest.”

Finn’s mouth quirked, and he nodded. Logan hesitated for a moment, realizing that Finn was wearing his NASA t-shirt, the same one he had worn the day he’d left Harvard for good, leaving Logan behind. Logan stared at the logo, then looked away, back up to his brown eyes. Bambi, the boys at Harvard had called him.

He took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know where it went. I know you packed it, took it with you, but I can’t find it. Do you know…”

Logan trailed off, as Finn had taken out his wallet. He set his beer on the pier ledge, flipped the worn leather open, and slipped out a folded piece of paper, thick, and well-loved. He held it out to Logan, biting his lip, and then leaned back against the railing, as if waiting.

Logan let the photo fall open in his fingers, and exhaled a shaky, steadying breath. There was a laugh in it somewhere.

“Oh,” he said.

“Didn’t know you were looking for it,” Finn replied, and trailed his fingers, cold from his beer, over Logan’s wrist, then reached up to fiddle briefly with his necklace.

Logan traced his eyes over the same, gaudy string lights in the photo, their same smiles—the one Logan knew he wore more freely these days.

Logan folded the picture closed again, and slipped it back into its place in Finn’s wallet.

“You want it, Lo?” Finn asked.

Logan shook his head. “I like that you have it.”

Finn stretched out a foot, ankle hooking around Logan’s, pulling him a little closer again, to stand nearly between his legs.

“I had it all that first year,” Finn smiled. “On my own.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Finn grinned, singing off-key. “Pretending he’s beside me—”

Logan groaned, shoving his shoulder a little. “Okay, D’accord, I walked into that.”

Finn laughed loudly, and then swung his arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Let’s go find Le, get more food.”

They strode towards the tables.

“Hey!” Evgeni called out. He was standing with Olli and Jackson, his looming form leaning over the pier. “Ten bucks I jump!”

“Kuns, you don’t want to swim in this river,” Finn said.

“He’s going in whether you pay him or not,” Jackson shook his head. “At some point tonight.” He grinned, the scar that ran down one of his cheeks dimpling when he smiled. “Bet you twenty.”

“Nado,” Evgeni gasped, slapping his arm. “We split. Even.”

“No fucking way.”

Logan let Finn lead him away from their bickering, towards where he could immediately spot Leo, standing with Remus and Thomas. Logan felt everything just—soften.

“Do you ever think you could just find him?” Finn asked softly, the hand around Logan’s shoulders gesturing in Leo’s direction. “I mean, even if you couldn’t see him. You know?”

“Ouais,” Logan said, voice just as soft. “I know.”

Leo was mid-laugh when he spotted them, too.

“I gotta say,” he said as he met them halfway, hand on his hip, sunglasses in his hair. “I did a pretty damn good job.”

Logan huffed out a laugh. “You did. Really good.”

Finn snorted. “Way to take the credit, Nut.”

“He deserves it,” Logan said. “I was just here.”

“Lo’s the gift master,” Leo swung his arm around his shoulders. “And I’m the food master. Sounds about right?”

Logan patted Leo’s chest. “Are you going to jump in?”

Leo raised his eyebrows, squinting out at the water. “Do I want to swim in this water?”

“I’d swim if it was with you two,” Finn said. “I’d risk the murky monsters of the deep.”

“You gotta wait twenty minutes after eating,” Leo said. “And I haven’t tried the soft serve yet. They have swirls, they have mango, I mean, come on. I did so good.”

Finn laughed. “And I’m going to kiss you stupid later.”

“And I’m going to hold you to that,” Leo leaned in a little. “Birthday boy.”

They found Sirius holding a cone out to Remus by the machine, and Remus wrinkling his nose.

“C’est la vanille!” Sirius was laughing. “Quoi? Really? You don’t like vanilla?”

“You do?” Remus shook his head.

“Y’all we’ve caught the couple splashed on the front of every magazine in a, dare I say,” Leo paused, “fight?”

“First it’s pineapple pizza, now it’s vanilla,” Remus reached up, pushing Sirius’ chin length hair out of his eyes. “What did I sign up for?”

“Carrying his hair ties for him, apparently,” Finn reached out and snapped the tie around Remus’ wrist.

Remus rolled his eyes, and Logan thought Sirius might have blushed. When Logan reached up to poke at his cheek, he slapped his hand away and Logan laughed.

Sirius dragged Remus away towards where Julian, Remus’ little brother, was calling them over to the beanbag toss, and, momentarily tucked behind the shade of the soft-serve station, Logan felt Leo pull the both of them closer.

“Pretty good beginning to the end of the summer,” he sighed, licking his own cone.

“It was a damn good summer,” Finn grinned. “Hey, give me.”

Logan watched Leo hold out his cone to Finn, and agreed. It had been more than a good summer. It had been a perfect summer, and something in that made Logan stupidly worried. Sun and salt, and cold wine, and hot bodies pressed together as the moon rose. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, tucked between the two of them, and tried not to ruin this peace by thinking about all the times peace hadn’t been there.

This was Finn’s day. This was their season. Logan tilted his chin up and let the sweet mango of Leo’s ice cream sweeten his thoughts.

Noelle wasn’t at Finn’s party, and Thomas could feel it. He fiddled with the new, thin gold hoops she’d gifted him, barely circling away from his ears, the left one with a pearl strung along.

I’m the lucky one who found you, she’d said.

And he’d had to go and ruin it by trying to be funny, even while tears were pressing up as close to him as she was.

What does that make us, oysters?

She’d laughed, looked happy, but Thomas wished he’d said something else. He wished he had gotten something for her. He wished she wasn’t so far away.

I miss you, he tapped out on his phone, and that felt perfectly honest. Simple. Enough.

The three dots popped up and then went away. Thomas tried not to let it mean anything. She deserved to be busy. She worked just as hard—harder—than he did. Still, something like relief flooded through him when a long string of pink hearts answered him.

I miss YOU, T baby. Good party?? Tell Harzy happy bday for me.

Thomas blew out a breath. Will do. Say hi to the girls for me.

“You look like sad sunshine,” Natalie’s voice came, and he looked up to see her walking towards him, taking a sip from a honey colored beer with a lime wedged into it.

“I’m a little sad, Sunshine, like it or not,” Thomas laughed softly, pocketing his phone. “Where are the boys?”

“Canoodling,” Natalie sighed, hopping up onto one of the stools beside him under the umbrella. She had her long blond hair swept up into two french braids. “We’re both getting in our last drops of Alex, I think.”

Thomas nodded. “Hey, I never really asked, Nat. That just…happened this summer, or what?”

Natalie smiled. “Well, when I met Kasey, he hadn’t made it big yet, still on the Rangers farm team, but Alex had been on the Rangers for…maybe about a year? I can’t quite remember. I think Kase had only gotten called up a few times, so they’d met. But anyway, we start dating, two years later he gets a big boy contract with the Rags, and we get to know Alex. I saw him at team dinners only at first.” She smiled. “I was like, cutie, look at those freckles. But I had Kase, you know? I was pretty confused when I started looking a little closer. I mean, I was so happy.”

She pushed her sunglasses into her hair, leaning an elbow on the table and fiddling with a gold necklace at her throat that had the number 30 strung across the leather cord. Thomas wondered if she was going to add a 28 to that, Alex’s number, or if she’d get another one. He wondered if Noelle would want something like that. Maybe they could wear each other’s. He liked the thought.

“Well,” Natalie said. “I was confused until I noticed Kasey looking, but he wasn’t pulling away from me and I thought, hey…maybe this is something?”

“But that was how many years ago?”

Natalie took another drink. “No, yeah, nothing ever happened. Actually, I think they kissed once or twice. Roadies, you know? But Kasey gets traded, and then Finn arrived and we were like, wow, cruel joke.”

Thomas laughed. “I bet. But it meant Alex comes around again.”

She grinned. “That it did.”

Thomas held his drink up for a cheers. “Guess we owe those Cubs a lot.”

She clinked their bottles together. “Life’s weird. But, yeah, it happened this summer officially. Went to the O’Hara Hampton house, and I think we just loved being together. I forgot a little, how wonderful Alexander is. But,” she was smiling wildly again. “I woke up one morning and the boys had gone on a walk, they got back three hours later holding hands, Alex kissed me, and something changed. Maybe they worked through some history of theirs. We’re his now, he’s ours, whatever you want to call it.” She laughed. “Pretty good for a morning’s work.”

“Pretty good,” Thomas repeated.

“I’m worried it’ll be hard, though,” she sighed, chest rising and falling dejectedly. “He’s all the way in Florida and we’re here, together.”

Thomas glanced back down at his phone. “Yeah.”

“I bet that makes me sound like a snob to you,” she reached out and squeezed his hand.

He waved her off. “No, no, I just…we’re new, me and Noelle. Sometimes I worry that we’re too new for…for this.”

Natalie shook her head. “I think distance is distance. And, if it doesn’t work, it isn’t the physical space between two people. It’s a different sort of far away.”

Thomas tapped his fingers against his glass. “You just have something to say for everything, huh, Nat?”

She grinned. “Pretty mouth, gotta use it.”

Thomas snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’m going to whip your ass a ring toss.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

“Apparently they closed down a bunch of streets,” Remus was saying, still bleary-eyed and waking up as Sirius made the coffee. “That’s awesome.”

“It’s a parade. Of course,” Sirius said as he pushed the lid of their french press down.

Remus looked up to see him smiling and rolled his eyes, laughing, “Okay, sure, but it’s still crazy. They say it’s going to bigger than the Cup Parade was in June.”

That made Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Remus hummed in agreement, clicking his phone off and popping his back. “Well. I know Pride is in June, but I’m happy we get to do this, too.”

Sirius nodded, sliding onto the stool beside Remus with two waiting mugs. “Captain gets the Cup last. I don’t make the rules.”

Remus just yawned and let his temple fall against Sirius’ shoulder, closing his eyes as Sirius’ warm palm came to brush over his hair and neck.

“September is in two weeks,” Remus mumbled. “How the hell did that happen?”

Sirius poured their coffee and pressed a kiss against Remus’ hair. “You’ll be fine.”

“Hm?”

“I know you’re nervous for training camp. You’ve seen it a million times, though.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed and sat up pulling his steaming mug close. “Seen it.”

Sirius laughed, going to the refrigerator for the milk. His hair was in dark, glorious tangles, and Remus vaguely wondered how much time they had before they needed to get ready.

“I meant,” Sirius leaned over the island and poured them both milk before capping it again and going for the brown sugar. Remus smiled when he realized that Sirius had picked that up from Remus’ mom, Hope. “I meant that you know it never comes across like…like some insane competition for spots.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It is, though. I mean, not for the Sirius Black, but…”

“D’accord,” Sirius nodded. “Okay, okay. But you know what I mean?”

“I’m not worried about the team,” Remus said as Sirius came to sit down again. “I’m worried I’m not going to make the team.”

Sirius shook his head, set his mug down, and all but pulled Remus off of his stool to gather him close. Remus mumbled something about cold coffee, but smiled as he let himself be kissed good morning, kissed calm, kissed loved.

“I’m not worried,” Sirius whispered, and kissed him some more.

Remus had barely shut his car door—having opened it to cheers—before he was getting an armful of his little brother.

“Oof,” Remus grunted, but squeezed him, lifting him off of his feet. “Nice outfit, Jules.”

Julian jumped back, his Lupin Lions Pride jersey actually fitting him for once. “Thanks, dad found it for me.”

“He insisted on wearing it,” Hope Lupin smiled as she walked up. “But you’re going to roast so tell me when you want your t-shirt, baby, it’s in my bag. Hi, Re.”

“Hi, mom,” Remus let her kiss his cheek a few times.

“Salut,” Sirius grinned from beside him. Remus watched them hug, warmed more deeply than by the heat. Hope patted Sirius’ chest where a faded rainbow twelve was printed on his t-shirt. Remus was going to steal that thing as soon as he took it off.

“What a party!” Hope grinned. “Is someone grilling? Thought I smelled it.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they got this restaurant downtown to bring BBQ.”

“Is there ice cream?” Julian said, huffing. “I’m hot.”

Sirius plucked at his jersey jokingly. “Mais, ouais, it’s almost ninety!”

Hope laughed, and put a hand on Julian’s back. “I’ll get him cooled off. Your dad’s around here somewhere with Pascal. Meet you on the float in ten. And make sure you’re wearing sunscreen!”

Remus watched his family wind their way through the colorful, crowded streets, felt Sirius’ fingers lace through his own, and smiled.

The sun did beat down hot, but Remus didn’t mind so much, not when they were filed onto the float that was equipped with a red and gold Lions head roaring at the front and rainbow streamers at the back, like an extension of the mane. The Cup sat on a high pedestal between them, strapped in shining.

The crowd was wild. People were hanging out of the tall parking garage that lined one side. The pavement was painted in thick strips of rainbow in some places, and red and gold in others.

Gryffindor loved their Lions. It almost made Remus want to cry, seeing how happy Sirius was. Half of the team was on their float, some of them walking beside. Remus spotted Logan sporting a rainbow brimmed hat walking with Kasey and returned the peace sign Logan sent up.

“Everyone is decked out, man,” James shouted in Remus’ ear from beside him, Harry on his hip. He and Lily had returned in time for Finn’s birthday. He was wearing a Lions Pride shirt, and Harry had a tiny one to match and a sunhat that practically covered his entire body that Lily kept coming over to adjust. James grinned. “Damn. Good Cup Day.”

“It’s not my Cup Day,” Remus laughed. “But I do sort of feel like this is my day.”

James just smiled, pointing at people for Harry to wave at. “Maybe won’t have to make that distinction next year, eh? Look, Har, see the flags? You want one, bud?”

“Re,” Sirius leaned in, and Remus felt his hand on his back. “Want to walk a bit?”

Remus nodded, eyes finding where Leo, Jackson, Evgeni, and Olli were walking together, keeping time with the floats and talking to the crowd. Leo had a rainbow flag painted on one cheek, Natalie’s work.

Remus felt for his own hat, flipping the colorful brim backwards as he hopped down.

“Hey,” Jackson grinned, throwing an arm around Remus’ shoulders. Evgeni had one of Sergei’s daughters in his arms, chatting with the crowd. He wasn’t wearing Jackson’s rainbow-striped shirt, but it looked like one of the kids had stuck two stickers on one of his cheeks that he wasn’t bothering removing. Remus wondered if he was worried, about his family, or his country, like he had told Sirius. It sent a wave of thankfulness through him, the fact that he was here.

“Nado,” Remus hugged Jackson. “Jesus, seriously, what did you do this summer? You look fit, man.”

“You see him,” Evgeni called over, handing a sharpie back to someone wrapped almost entirely in a flag covered with glitter. “Stare in the mirror, in love.”

“I don’t,” Jackson protested.

Evgeni just shrugged, spinning Sergei’s daughter around. “I’m see you.”

“Well, hand some over,” Remus said.

Jackson just gave him a shake. “You’re going to make the team.”

“Maybe,” Remus groaned out a laugh, knocking him away.

“No maybes,” Sirius said, sidling up to Remus’ side and replacing Jackson’s arm.

“Sirius! Cap!” someone called, and Remus felt Sirius tense a little, as he always did in crowds, or media.

The person calling had short brown hair and seemed to have tailored a loose jersey of Sirius’ into a form-fitting dress. The sleeves were cut and hemmed by the twelves on the sleeves.

“Salut!” they said, accent stiff, and laughed. “I tried.”

That seemed to ease Sirius a little, and Remus tugged him to a stop.

“Salut,” Sirius smiled. “Wow, that’s my jersey?”

They nodded, eyes sliding over to Remus. “It is. My girlfriend was hoping to have a Lupin one so we can match, but…”

The girl beside her, black hair tucked up in a bandana, smiled and threw her hands up. “When are they stocking those! I have two hundred bucks I’m ready to drop, I mean, let’s go before I second guess myself!”

Remus laughed. “Oh man, I’ve been there.”

“With my jersey, ouais?” Sirius grinned was teasing as he signed an autograph and Remus blushed.

“Here,” Sirius took out his phone. “You can give me your phone number, if you’re okay with it, and I’ll get you one? Yeah?”

“Oh…are you kidding?” the girl put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I…yes, Cap, you can have my phone number, sure fucking thing.”

They moved along the crowd easily. Sirius grabbed the Cup at one point, walking it along for people to touch just as their entire team had in June. Remus stayed well away.

“No jinxes here,” an older man in a Lions Pride shirt laughed, his arm around his son. He held out his hand. “My entire family’s been Lions fans for generations. Glad to have you on the team.”

His son, the very image of his father, smiled and tentatively held out a sharpie. “Would you sign my shirt? I’ve seen your tapes and everything, I…you’re my favorite. I was thinking about getting out of hockey before you.”

Remus blinked. “I…” he took the sharpie, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. “I’m glad you’re staying. Are you a defenseman?”

He lit up. “How’d you know?”

Remus shrugged, smiling. “You hold yourself like one.”

“I hope that’s a good thing!” Remus heard Olli call from a little ways down.

He laughed. “How did you hear that?”

Remus signed the boy’s shirt, thanked him, and jogged a little to catch up with Sirius.

“I’ll take that,” Jackson grinned, and plucked the Cup from Sirius’ grasp.

“It’s my Cup Day!” Sirius laughed, but wrapped his arm around Remus instead. “Hi.”

“That was my first signature,” Remus said softly, to Sirius only, and Sirius squeezed his shoulders.

“The first of many.”

It was a bit of a blur after that. Natalie brought them ice cream and cold lemonade, which turned Sirius’ kisses even sweeter when they made it back home, out of the heat and stumbling, happy and sun-kissed. Sirius’ entrance hall was dark to Remus’ unadjusted eyes, and he focused on his palms, splayed over Sirius’ broad back. He yelped when a voice rang out from the living room.

“We’re on the couch!” Regulus shouted. “Just so you know!”

Sirius broke the kiss, looking flushed and dazed. “What…why?”

“I live here!” Regulus’ voice called back.

Remus suppressed a smile, and leaned his forehead against Sirius’ chest, trying to calm his breathing and any flush of arousal that had been beginning to stir up.

“Fuck,” Sirius swore. “How did he get home before us?”

“Who’s we?” Remus called out.

“Howdy,” Leo’s voice came.

Sirius sighed. “It’s my Cup Day.”

Remus gave his hip a short pat before walking down the hallway and rounding the corner to find Leo and Regulus slouched on the couch, AC on full blast.

“Right,” Remus nodded. “You’re suppose to be helping Reg pack for school.”

Regulus glanced up from his phone. “There’s twenty different gifs of you jumping down from the float and turning his hat backwards on Twitter.”

Remus blinked. “What?” He didn’t even remember doing that.

Leo nodded, crunching a potato chip. “And we’ve only been looking for ten minutes.”

“Huh,” Sirius said, turning towards the kitchen. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, and turned back. “Let me see.”

Remus huffed out a laugh. “I need water.”

“Donne-moi!” Sirius demanded of Regulus, grabbing for his phone.

“You have your own phone!” Remus made out Regulus’ reply in French.

Remus filled his glass, downed in, and was filling it again when Leo came into the kitchen, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“Thought I’d leave the brothers to fight. Can’t believe I used to be scared of both of them.”

Remus laughed, too. “Right?”

Remus watched Leo grab a glass, spinning his own slowly around on the counter. “Are you…”

Leo glanced up. “Hm?”

Remus took a breath. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but I know today must’ve been a little…” he took his hat off, the colorful bill bright against the dark stone of the counter.

Leo nodded in understanding, sliding onto a stool. “It wasn’t…hard. It was actually good to see all of the support. I could see it in Finn and Logan, too. Logan is nervous.” He nodded to himself. “More nervous than me and Finn. Understandably. I mean, you know how long he and Finn…” Leo shook his head. “I was happy he got to see that. And Finn was happy, I know, too. Maybe we’ll start making plans. I mean, this summer was just fucking heaven. Just being together. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

“Me too,” Remus sat on the stool beside him. They smiled at each other, then laughed. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“I am, too,” Leo grinned. “All right, I think me and Reg have to actually put his clothes in suitcases now.”

“Good luck.”

“That boy owns, like, five t-shirts,” Leo drained his glass and put it in the sink. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Remus grabbed a third glass and followed Leo back into the living room where they found Sirius leaning over the back of the couch, squinting at Regulus’ phone. He did a double take when he spotted Remus.

“Hey, where’s your hat?”

Remus snorted. “I’m not a twitter gif. C’mon, I need a shower.”

Regulus raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you need him for that?”

Remus stuck out his tongue. “Yeah.”

Sirius flicked the back of Regulus’ head. “Go pack.”

Remus tugged his t-shirt off on their way up the stairs. “That was wonderful, but fuck do I wish it wasn’t a thousand degrees.”

“I don’t know,” came Sirius’ reply from behind him as they entered their bedroom, followed by his hands on Remus’ hips and his lips against his neck. “When it’s hot, your hair sticks to your neck just…” he kissed just by Remus’ ear gently. “Here.”

Remus bit back a smile. “With sweat.”

“It’s handsome, I think.”

Remus laughed, turning in Sirius’ arms. He was summer tan and happy. Remus didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that grin, one that was more and more present lately. Sirius laughed and made small talk with fans who asked for pictures—even today, he had seemed to almost enjoy the crowds and the media. Remus touched his number twelve necklace. He brought it to his lips. “You’re handsome.”

They stepped into the shower together and stood in the peace and quiet of the beating down water, turned cool against their heated skin. Remus rested his head against Sirius’ chest, and smiled when he felt Sirius lace their fingers together. It wasn’t exactly a new thing anymore, but it still felt new. It had been that way when James, Lily, and Harry had first arrived home and Sirius had done it on the table between them at the restaurant, just as it had been early in June, when Sirius had done it while they waiting in line to board their plane.

Remus looked up, squeezing his hand, and Sirius bent to take Remus’ mouth against his own again. It was softer, but Remus felt just as giddy from the day’s events. A parade. A Cup Day.

He wanted one of his own.

“Love you, mon loup,” he smiled. “Thank you for today.”

Remus ran his hand over Sirius’ broad shoulders. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything,” Sirius whispered back. “You are part of me allowing myself things.”

Remus felt his expression soften.

“Heather explained it that way,” Sirius said. “I thought it was well put.”

Heather, the team’s sports psychiatrist. Remus had only actually met her a few times, but Sirius valued her highly, had called her a few times during the off season.

“I like it, too,” he said, and let Sirius pull him close again.

They threw the windows open to let the cooling breeze in once they were back downstairs, and Sirius put steaks on the grill for the two of them.

“Where’d Reg and Nut go?” Sirius asked.

“I think out with some of the boys,” Remus said, and followed as Sirius went back out to the patio. He notched his hip against the door frame. “Hey, do you want to go to the rink tomorrow? All this Cup talk has got me wanting to skate, like, now.”

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed. “With you? Always.”

Remus grinned and padded back over to the counter where the salad was waiting for dressing.

“I’m glad we didn’t end up having everyone over,” Remus said as he tossed it. “As much as I love them.”

Sirius hummed, sliding the screen door of the deck closed. He set the plate and tongs down before wrapping his arms around Remus.

“As much as I love them,” he repeated quietly, lips brushing against Remus’ neck. “I want you all to myself right now.”

Remus leaned back against him. “My thoughts exactly, baby.”

Sirius smiled against his skin. “Glad we’re on the same page. Vanilla hater.”

Remus pinched his arm. “Pineapple hater.”

Cole woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting down to his room from the kitchen—and Katie Dumais curled up at the foot of his bed.

He jumped a little, and then sat up slowly. It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t asleep, but that she was fiddling with a little charm bracelet, her eyes down.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, Katie.”

She looked up, and a grin lit up her face. “Mom says breakfast is ready. I didn’t want to wake you up, even though she told me to.”

He sat up a little more. “How long ago was that?”

Katie wrinkled her nose. “Maybe four hours?”

Cole blinked, and picked up his phone from his nightstand. It was eight-thirty. He glanced back at Katie.

“Can you tell time?” he asked slowly.

“Not really,” she sighed happily, and kept fiddling with her bracelet. “You still have rainbow paint on your face.”

Cole laughed, rubbing a hand over his cheek, where Lily Potter had painted a flag the day before, for the parade. Where the Stanley Cup had been.

It still all felt surreal to say.

“Okay. Um, tell her I’ll be up in a second, okay?”

Katie nodded. “Okay!”

Cole listened to her footsteps scamper all the way up the stairs before he flopped back down on his pillows and chuckled to himself. He gave his teeth a quick brush and followed.

“Bon matin,” Celeste smiled as she flipped a few more pieces of bacon onto a plate. “How did you sleep? I think that heat yesterday tired everyone out.”

Cole slid onto a stool beside Marc and Louis, Katie to his right. “Really good, thanks.”

“The air conditioner isn’t acting up again?” Celeste asked. “Logan was always having trouble with that thing.”

“It didn’t turn on right away, but I fixed it,” Cole smiled when she set a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and fruit in front of him, and then another plate with toast. “My mom’s big with her tool kit, so, I mean, if you ever need anything around the house, I know some stuff. Just so I can…help out. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Celeste beamed. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re not just letting you stay. We’re very happy you’re here. Someone your age shouldn’t be alone, especially with all the pressure that comes with this job. But I will absolutely take you up on that. You wouldn’t know how to build me some planters, would you? Pascal bought the wood ages ago,” she turned back to the sink, waving a spatula. “Always saying he will take care of it, and yet there it sits!”

Cole laughed softly. “Yeah, I can do that. Sounds good.”

“Well, good,” Celeste smiled, pulling her purse over her shoulder. “Now, Pascal is with Sergei for an ice session—which you’re always invited to, he says, by the way—I’m taking Louis to tennis, and Marc to space camp. Layla will be here soon, but do you mind looking after Katie until she gets here? Adele’s up in her room if you have any questions. She’ll know.”

Cole nodded, trying to swallow the eggs quickly. “Of course. No problem.”

Celeste smiled. “She loves you enough already, she’ll be no trouble.”

“She’s always trouble,” Louis mumbled.

Celeste tisked, but kissed his head. “Come on, up. Cole, you have some of the boys’ numbers, too, right?”

“Um,” Cole thought of Sirius Black’s number in his phone from when he called him. “Yes?”

“Good. I know you don’t have a car yet, and you’re always welcomed to ours when it’s available, but if you ever need a ride anywhere, I’m sure any one of them will drive you.”

Cole, for the life of him, didn’t think he would ever be able to bring himself to call Sirius Black up and ask him to drive him to, what, Target? Jesus.

“Right,” Cole tried for a smile and knew it came out nervous. “Thanks.”

Katie did turn out to be a pretty easy kid. Even if she did seem to switch activities at a rapid pace. She drew, and then she watched half of a TV show, and then she was hungry, but she did all of it herself. After less than 30 minutes she had parked both of them on the couch where they were stringing beads for necklaces.

“I’ll make you Lions colors,” she said seriously.

That had been Cole’s best—and only—idea. He glanced at the multi-colored kit. “What colors do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Cole smiled. “All right. What’s your charm bracelet?” He nodded to the small silver ring around her wrist.

“It’s from Tremzy,” Katie thrust her wrist forward. “He gets me one every one of my birthdays. There’s a hockey stick, because we love hockey, and an ice cream cone, because we love ice cream, and this is a book because we read together, and—”

There was the ding that told Cole that Layla had arrived, coming in from the garage, and Katie was off again.

“Hi,” Cole said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

Layla looked up from trying to put her things down and hug Katie at the same time. “Hey, Cole.”

“How’s it going?” Cole asked, feeling decidedly more prepared this time. Layla was in a green tank-top today, but her same shorts and gold rings.

“Busy,” she laughed. “I actually have my first orientation this evening, at the rink.”

Cole nodded. “Nice. I’ve never actually been inside. Well, not yet, I guess.”

Layla straightened at that. “Well…I’m driving over once Celeste gets home, just to see the place first.” She seemed to take a breath. “Do you want to come with?”

They didn’t have full gear, but the chilled rink was a relief against the sweat they worked up anyway. Remus borrowed a helmet—his own hadn’t been sent out yet—and used his old, worn in CCM skates.

“I can still beat you in these,” Remus panted as he skated backwards, tapping the puck back and forth and trying to gauge which way Sirius was going to dodge first.

“Oh, I know,” Sirius said, then lifted his right foot and went left.

Remus knocked the puck out of his stick towards the boards, and it sent them both chasing it.

“You use that trick too much!” Remus laughed, it echoing across the empty rink, as he shoved Sirius against the glass, the puck trapped between his skate blade and the foot of the boards.

“What about this one?” Sirius said, and turned to press their mouths together. Remus smiled into it, and it was enough to allow Sirius to steal the puck back.

“No!” Remus laughed as Sirius carried the puck expertly across the blue line, winding his stick up and taking a deadly slap shot, notching it perfectly in the upper left corner of the empty goal.

He dropped to a knee, sliding into a celebration before wrapping around the goal with a final whoop and crashing back into Remus for another kiss.

“Wanna run plays?” Sirius asked. “I’ll be your center if you’ll be my winger.”

Remus smiled as they reset themselves, pushing the used pucks towards the boards. “That might not happen.”

“Maybe I have more pull than you think.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Not that much, baby. What’s going to happen is I’ll start on the fourth line, go from there. Anything else and every journalist in the city would go batshit crazy.”

Sirius just scooped another puck into the goal, then hooked his arms over his stick, the body behind his neck. “Wouldn’t be our first time causing that.”

Remus smiled. “True.” He nudged Sirius towards center ice. “Face-off.”

Sirius took his helmet off to push his hair back. “Let’s do it.”

Remus was just tugging off his shirt, smiling as he listened to Sirius rattle of plans for the season, when he heard two voices laughing from the hallway. Sirius’ smile dropped, and he narrowed his eyes at the door.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said. “Hey, where are we meeting the guys for—”

“Should we check out the locker room?” one of the outside voices said—higher. “Do you think it’s open?”

“Non,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, grabbing for the back of his own shirt.

The door opened hesitantly at first, then wider, revealing Layla and Cole.

Cole flushed, and Layla’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Sorry, we didn’t think…”

Remus glanced at Sirius, but when he didn’t say anything, just pretending to fiddle grumpily with his bag, he waved them off.

“Hey, we were just swinging by for a quick skate. It’s not our locker room,” he smiled. “Well, not only ours. You guys have the same idea?”

“Not skating, maybe,” Layla replied, twisting one of her braids around her finger. She looked up at Cole, who still looked like he thought he was in the wrong place, and smiled. “But neither of us have really gotten to look around yet, so, we thought we would.”

Remus smiled, using his dirty t-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. “Nice. Well, maybe Cap and I can give you a tour or something some time.”

Sirius glanced up. “Marls does that.”

Remus tried to send Sirius a look with his eyes, but Sirius just glanced mournfully towards what Remus thought might be the video review room.

“Well…” Remus said hesitantly.

“We’ll keep looking around,” Layla said quickly. “See you guys around.”

Remus watched them to make sure the door was closed, then turned and punched Sirius in the arm.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked.

“Grumpy.”

“I liked it just us,” Sirius mumbled. “I thought we could plan plays or—or watch tape.”

Remus laughed, pressing his forehead to Sirius’ chest. “You’re such a baby.”

One corner of Sirius’ mouth raised. “So?”

“You wanted the rookie to stop making moon eyes at you,” Remus said. “Here’s your chance.”

“D’accord,” Sirius’ grin spread as he gathered Remus closer by his hips. “But will you keep making moon eyes at me?”

Remus leaned up for a gentle kiss. “I’m going to ask them to lunch. Wait here, Captain, you scare the rookie.”

“I don’t,” Sirius sighed, and Remus pushed out the locker room door.

“Hey,” Remus jogged to catch up as Cole and Layla turned at his voice. “Us and some of the other guys are planning to get lunch. How about it? You, too, Layla.”

Layla blinked. “Seriously?”

Remus laughed. “Team lunch isn’t a team lunch without the PT. Or, one of them, at least.”

Layla grinned. “Right. Well, I’d love to.”

Cole nodded quickly. “I—yeah. Yeah, cool. That rooftop place again?”

“You’re already picking up on team favorites, I see.”

Cole smiled sheepishly. “Kuny makes us go there every time.”

“It’s the sushi,” Remus laughed. “He’s a man obsessed. Well, cool. Meet you there in twenty?”

Layla jingled her keys. “See you there.”

“Sushi,” Evgeni all but moaned as he picked up a piece of yellowtail.

“Jesus, Kuns,” Jackson said. “You can’t eat all of that by yourself.”

Evgeni was chewing with his eyes closed. “You don’t know.”

“All right,” Thomas leaned forward, folding his sunglasses into his shirt in the shade of their umbrella. “What do we think this season, boys? Predictions, let me hear them.”

They all looked to Sirius first, who leaned back in his chair, one arm over the back of Remus’. He took a sip of his iced tea.

“Rangers,” he said finally.

“Uh-huh,” James nodded.

“Same,” Layla said, taking a spoonful of her miso soup.

“Caps, maybe,” Sirius continued.

“Definitely,” Remus said.

“I’m feeling Avs?” Thomas offered. “And I don’t want to say Snakes, but…yuck.”

“More like Vegas,” Remus said.

The table paused, and Remus just shook his head.

“It’s true,” he said, glancing at Cole and Layla, trying to decide if they’d noticed the shift in the air. He had to be able to talk about this. About him. "They’re deep this year.”

“Yeah,” Cole said softly. “Greyback’s killer.”

Remus felt the entire table tense and felt immediately guilty. Cole didn’t know what he had said, and Remus all but watched him wonder if he’d said something wrong.

“And us,” Thomas grinned, slapping Cole on the back. “We’ve got Lupin now. We’ve got Reyes.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but laughed. He tried to express his thanks silently, and Thomas winked at him.

This felt different. He had known it would. Team dinners would be his dinners now, not a friendly tag-along invite. Driving to practice with Sirius, they would go through almost the same routine, not split off for his office and the locker room. These were his teammates. He’d win and lose with them, and they with him, in a way they hadn’t before. Sitting there, in the sunshine that was going to turn colder, Remus looked forward to a year of this.

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roanniom · 3 years

Note

This made my day seeing your requests open!!

I’d like to please request some hot dominat Clyde action. We all know he’s a softy, but we all also know he’s capable of being a big and scary if he needs to. Thoughts on Clyde protecting you from something and then still being riled up with you after, in all the best ways? :)

Hiya anon! I was happy to write this for you. Fun story, what Clyde does (re: the beer bottle) in this story is actually something a bar tender did when defending me from a creep back in my college bar hopping days lol. I WISH it was Clyde who had done it. I would have loved to thank him. 😉

Out of Trouble

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, possessiveness, dirty talk

You reassess the situation you find yourself in – by no means an unfamiliar one, but definitely out of the norm these days and wholly unpleasant all the same. The man currently harassing you at the bar is clearly not a local. First of all, you don’t recognize the handsy son-of-a-bitch. And secondly, everyone in town knew that you were Clyde’s girl.

You two had only recently made things official, but in a way, hadn’t you always been Clyde’s girl? Your best friendship had always been tinged with a sweetness that surpassed the roles of mere pals. Sure there was flirting, how could you resist with the way a properly timed tease or suggestive comment could make Clyde blush and stammer as if on command? But even more prevalent, and more obvious to the patiently waiting members of the town, was the ownership you both had of one another. People knew better than to hassle either of you, verbally, hypothetically, or otherwise, in the presence of the other. You had Clyde’s back and he had yours, each of you displaying a possessiveness that made others smirk and roll their eyes while hiding their jealousy. You had what they did not, and now that the two of you were finally dating, envy was a common emotion amongst regular Duck Tape patrons.

Something this creep clearly was not privy to it would seem as he reached out to caress your forearm, an action which you flinch to avoid.

“Come on, baby. Let me buy you a fucking drink,” he was saying at this point. He was getting more forceful and though you had previously been courteous in your refusals, you realize that it might be time to fight back. He swayed on his barstool before continuing. “Stop being such a bitch. What could one drink hurt?”

“Every bone in yer fuckin’ body,” comes a low, deep growl that makes both you and the creep look up to the swinging door behind the bar. Your heart swells with relief and other, undefinable emotions as Clyde stalks up, his massive body an intimidating figure as it looms over the other, weasel-y man, threatening even with the bar between them.

“W-what’s your problem?” the creep practically squeaks before clearing his throat and jumping up, trying to draw himself up to his full height, which just comes across as laughable. Of course, next to Clyde, any height would be laughable.

“My problem is yer comin’ onto m’girl. That’s my problem.” His tone is deadly quiet. That’s your Clyde, soft spoken, even as his flesh hand clenches and murder simmers behind his eyes.

“Look, she was sitting here all alone. In my book that makes a bitch fair game - ” the creep begins, but he doesn’t get much farther with his misogynistic diatribe because Clyde reaches over, grabbing a nearby customer’s almost empty beer. Grasping the bottle around the neck, Clyde smashes the bottle down against the edge of the bar. The barrel shatters with a loud crash that silences the din of the room and causes the neck of every patron to whip around for the source of the sound. Clyde stands before the creep brandishing the remaining shards of the beer bottle like a shiv.

“Here’s what yer gonna do,” Clyde says calmly, the violence of his actions not succeeding in raising the volume of his voice. “Yer gonna apologize t’ the lil lady fer troublin’ her, understand?”

The creep stares at Clyde, wide-eyed and panicked before nodding and turning to you hastily.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry –”

“Good,” Clyde says, cutting the guy off so that he can no longer address you. You eye Clyde as he waves the shattered bottle menacingly. He’s never looked bigger. Never looked darker. Never looked hotter. When he speaks again his voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “Now yer gonna get the fuck outta my bar.”

The creep is gone in a matter of seconds, running out the front door so fast you almost imagine his skeleton being left on the bar stool in his wake like some frightened cartoon character. Before you can look back up at Clyde, his large hand is encircling your wrist and yanking you toward to door to the back of the bar. You let yourself be pulled, barely registering how the conversation kicks back in, customers already basking in the aftermath of Clyde’s rare emotional outburst.

Once the door to Clyde’s office is safely shut behind you, Clyde pushed you to sit down on his couch while he paces back and forth in front of you. You’re bewildered by this response, unsure if you should say something so you remain silent, watching him. After a moment Clyde yanks a hand through his hair forcefully. You swallow and decide to finally speak up.

“Are you okay, Clyde?”

“I’m NOT fuckin’ okay,” Clyde replies and you’re shocked at the way his voice raises with his words. You’re suddenly worried he’s gotten the wrong idea and you’re quick to fold your arms defensively across your chest, your own voice rising.

“Hey, if you’re mad at me you should know it’s not like I encouraged that asshole.”

Clyde is quick to round on you, looking panicked.

“I didn’t say ya did. I know ya wouldn’t…ya’d never…” Clyde trails off into a growl and resumes his pacing, flesh hand clenching and unclenching.

“It’s over, Clyde,” you soothe now, switching tactics and lowering your own defenses. He’s clearly distressed and you’re not sure how to calm him. “He’s not the first and probably won’t be the last guy to bother me.”

“That’s what’s killin’ me, darlin’. What if I hadn’t walked out? What if ya were alone an’ this happened?”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know ya can,” Clyde says, voice more characteristically quiet now but frustration no less palpable as he waves his prosthetic arm distractedly. “I dunno what’s gotten intuh me. I saw him touch ya an’…an’…” Clyde reaches out and swipes across a table, throwing everything to the ground. His chest heaves with his outburst. Yours is rising and falling rapidly now, too, but for you its stemming from the realization that this man. This sweet, beautiful man is losing his cool over his desire to protect you. To defend you. You’re a modern woman. As you’d just told him, you can take care of yourself and you are very proud of that fact. But something about the dark look in his eye and the way his muscles shift tensely beneath his shirt and the way he stomps before you makes you feel like you want to disappear in his arms and never resurface.

“You’re a good man, Clyde,” you say softly. He shakes his head and gives a humorless laugh.

“Not tonight, I’m not, darlin’. Not with these thoughts. I haven’t felt this way since…”

“Overseas?” you ask. He nods, trying to take a deep breath but releasing an even angrier exhale.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m just so fuckin’ mad.”

You watch your big bear, usually so gentle, wrestle with his emotions before you. Immediately you have an idea, standing up and moving to him. Using one hand to peel open his fist and interlace your fingers. He grips you too tight but you just bite your lip. Your other hand slides over his bicep and shoulder, kneading into the tense muscles there as you press your face into his chest. His prosthetic arm winds around your waist, pulling you into his body naturally. This does nothing to slow his breathing, which picks up more speed. Feeling you against his body is reminding him of how small you are. How vulnerable. He feels another surge of rage and desperation course through his veins.

“I don’t know why I’m feelin’ this way,” he mumbles but you reach up and grab his face to force him to look at you.

“Feel whatever way you feel,” you reassure him. You lift up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, but the force with which he responds steals your breath. His arms wind around your body and crush you to him as his tongue ruthlessly explores your mouth, as if searching for solace can only be done in the space where you are most conjoined. The aggression is dizzying and his fingers are bruising on your frame but you love it. Used to light touches, soft caresses, you feel a hunger burn beneath your skin, as if your every muscle is rejoicing at the deeper pressure, the deeper friction.

When Clyde finally pulls away you are winded and dazed, now breathing just as heavily. His eyes look no less wild but now there is a tinge of concern.

“M’sorry, darlin’. We should stop, ‘m too worked up. Can’t be sweet to ya the way ya like.” His words are husky and rushed but you’re just as rushed to shush him. You’re already working at his belt and pulling him back to the couch.

“I like you in whatever way you’ll have me, baby,” you mumbled against his flesh, kissing down his throat as you pull him down to the cushions. “Take it out on me.”

“What if I’m too rough with ya?” Clyde asks, but his hands are already ripping your shirt over your head and his mouth latches onto your throat, your collar bone, your breast through your bra.

“I want you to be rough with me, Clyde. I’ve wanted you to be rough with me since the moment you walked out and gave that asshole what-for.” You’re pressed down, back against the couch now, with your legs tight around the wide barrel of Clyde’s body.

“Did ya like that, darlin’? Yer Big Bear defending ya?” He’s no longer hesitant in his movements and no longer trying to stop himself. Instead he takes a handful of your ass, pulling your pelvis up off the couch so that your clothed pussy presses fully into his erect and waiting cock. You moan, both at the sensation and at him calling himself Big Bear for the first time. You’d only been dating for a few weeks and things were still new, including shyness around pet names. You’d called him Big Bear the night before in the teasing lead up to some love making and he’d only flushed and stammered in response, busying himself by burying his face between your thighs.

But right now he’s gazing down at your face with an air of intensity and you feel saliva pool in your mouth and wet slick your quivering heat.

“I liked my Big Bear defending me. So strong and big.” You say the last word as you close your hand around his enormous cock through his unzipped jeans. Clyde bucks into your hand and hums from where he’s suckling at the underside of one of your breasts, curved down into you despite your differences in height.

“Nobody else can have ya,” he grumbles before hoisting you higher on the couch so he can position his cock at your entrance. You gasp at the feeling of his member sliding between your folds, getting covered in your waiting slick.

“Nobody. Only you, Big Bear.” Before you can say anything else Clyde has speared into you in one swift motion and taken up an unforgiving pace. There was the aggression he’d been worried about and boy was it rough. You cling to him for dear life as he fucks you into the couch cushions. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

It hurts – he’s much too big to be going this hard this fast – but his grip on you is so tight it melts your aching muscles. The desperation of his thrusts make you hiccup through your inhales and you feel surrounded. Crushed. Filled. All in the best way possible. You love the darling Clyde who coaxes your orgasms with caresses and honeyed words and languid strokes. But this Clyde – this is your Big Bear. His eyes drink in your bouncing breasts as he’s not able to clutch them with the way he has to support his own weight with his good arm. Your back arches deeper from the effects of a particularly deep thrust, bringing your chest up to press against his and he groans.

“This body. No wonder people’re comin’ on to ya, darlin’. This body’s too perfect,” he practically growls, burying his face into your throat. “Maybe I should just keep ya here on my cock. Stay inside ya. Keep me warm and keep ya outta trouble.”

You moan loudly as his dirty words are accentuated by a change in angle that lets him pound into a particularly sweet spot. Your walls pulse around him.

“Oh god. Oh Clyde.”

“Back to callin’ me Clyde already? Am I not bein’ rough enough for ya?” Clyde asks, biting down into the sensitive flesh of your throat. You cry out, hips gyrating against him, legs and walls clamping down around him with an unconscious need to keep him buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck, oh fuck me, Big Bear. I can take it!” you practically whine.

“Yes ya can. So good, takin’ yer Big Bear.” His trusts begin to bottom out harsher, faster. The pressure and the speed have pulled your muscles as taut as they can go and you know you’re seconds from snapping. It was all so sudden. You’re both so worked up, not only from the experience out in the bar, but from the headiness of being this way with one another for the first time. He may be the one pounding into you, but you’re giving as good as you’re getting, rolling your hips up to meet each thrust. Pulling him down into you and raking your fingernails up and down his back.

It’s desperate and needy and possessive – equally so. He is yours and you are his and ownership never tasted so sweet.

Just as you’re about the cum, Clyde seems to sense it and shoves your legs up by the back of the knee, ensuring his next few thrusts rub up against the spot inside you that makes your eyes cross and makes your moans turn into desperate whimpers. You have the vague thought that this proves how well Clyde has come to know your body, what a great student he is of your orgasm, just as said orgasm crashes over you.

You know for sure that the Duck Tape customers heard you. Your belief in your audience becomes even stronger when Clyde lets out a delicious moan as he cums, too, painting your insides with spend made just for you. You’re sweaty and it’s only 7 pm on a Tuesday. Clyde’s going to have to go back to tending bar and you’re going to have to slink out, so clearly ravaged and thoroughly fucked to the likely amusement of a roomful of people who’d been rooting for your coupling. You chuckle to yourself, as Clyde drops the weight of his whole body on you, crushing you. Those people outside definitely got a chance just now to hear your coupling firsthand.

“That…was amazing.” It comes out breathless, as though you’ve just run a marathon. And because you have the mass of a large man pressing you into the couch. When Clyde finally lifts his head from its resting place at your neck he looks sheepish and embarrassed and pleased and winded.

“’M sorry if I was too much for ya, darlin’. Once ya started touchin’ me I couldn’t think straight.”

You silence him with a kiss, grabbing his face to make it deep. When you pull away your smile is ear to ear.

“If you make me feel like that, baby, there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Clyde moves to pull out of you, his cum now seeping out around his softening cock, but you tighten your legs around him suddenly.

“What happened to staying inside me, mister?” you tease.

Clyde stands abruptly, pulling you up with him still seated in your dripping cunt. Your gasp and scramble to hold onto him. He takes a few playful steps towards the door and you swat at him.

“No, I think yer right, darlin’. What better way tuh make cocktails than with my lil cockwarmer?”

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore

#anon #request #Clyde Logan x reader #Clyde Logan x you #Clyde Logan/reader #Clyde Logan/you #Clyde Logan smut #clyde logan fanfiction #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky smut #Out of Trouble #smut #writing #roanniom

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Logan's Invention Trouble

Logan had created a new machine that could grip and tickle you if you step up to it. But, faulty wiring leads to Logan getting stuck in his own invention! And due to an unlucky break, Logan has to rely on some not-so-reliable people to save him from his own foolishness.

This fanfic was suggested by @gamequeenanya. I hope you enjoy, Violet!

His new invention had been a wonderful success. He had tested it on a dummy, and had tested it on the air to see the controls without a person in the machine. To Logan’s happiness, it worked like a gem. Logan had originally set it up to be button activated. However, that was only for the testing. So, Logan decided to make it motion controlled instead, to guarantee a surprise for everyone that walked into it.

After finishing up the motion sensor, Logan threw the dummy down in front of the machine. Quickly, many pairs of hands gathered the dummy’s hands and feet, and started doing its expected thing. Logan smiled at his own success and clicked the button to shut it down. Slowly, the hands slowed down to a stop and let the dummy go.

He planned to gather the dummy. But before he got even remotely close, Logan had switched the motion sensor off so that he didn’t end up caught in the machine.

However…

Logan didn’t really know this, but the wiring had been done incorrectly, making the button completely useless. The button didn’t shut off the motion sensor. If anything, it alerted the sensor that something was gonna be coming to it very soon.

Confident that the button had turned it off however, Logan walked up to the machine to retrieve the dummy.

Suddenly, the machine grabbed Logan’s hands! Logan yelped the moment his hand was grabbed, and immediately made the realization that the button was faulty! It was way too late for that though, and Logan’s bodily functions took over as about 15 hands tickled his armpits, sides, ribs, belly, feet, back of the knees, and the shoulderblades.

OH NO!

“GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHO GEHEHEHEHEEEZ! WHAHAHAT HAHAHAHAPPEHEHEHENED?!” Logan asked.

Logan realized something even worse than the tickles:

Logan hadn’t added a proper timer to the machine yet! He had planned to add the timer after he had gathered the dummy!

That means that the machine was gonna tickle tickle tickle him forever! Or, until someone clicks the button that he had foolishly dropped during the attack! And the other unfortunate part, was that the remote was JUST out of reach of his foot! But the hand that had grabbed his foot, would automatically lift his foot back into position if he even tried to reach out to click it!

The only way he’d ever get out, will involve getting one of the sides to help him out!

This was a nightmare come true! Or...Well, Logan would say a mixed emotion-kinda dream. It was a nightmare in how he was gonna get out, but it was a dream that Logan could experience the machine first hand.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHELP! SOHOHOMEOHOHONE!” Logan called.

This was gonna be so embarrassing to explain...But dammit all, Logan needed out!

Logan looked around and tried to get out himself. But each time he would pull on the restraints, the hands nearby would tickle harder for a few seconds each, to further weaken him! Logan knew this was a thing that came with installing the motion sensor...He knew that he added this due to his intense ler mood...But this just gave fuel to the fire!

Logan growled as he felt powerless against his own machine. What a joke...Of course the inventor will get stuck in his own invention! It’s bound to happen! But this is just too much!

Finally, after what felt like hours, someone followed his laughter to the laboratory.

“Logan? Are you...laughing?!” Someone asked.

“HEHEHEHELP MEEEEHEHEHEHE!” Logan begged.

The person peeked his head in and widened his eyes. “Holy Zeus...What is thihihis?!” The person asked.

As you could tell by the reaction, this intruder was Roman.

“HEHEHEHELP! IHIHIHI’M STUHUHUHUHUCK!” Logan shouted to him.

“Ihihi can tehehell!” Roman reacted, giggling. “What in the name of Peter Pan did you get yourself stuck in?!” Roman asked.

“IHIHIT’S AHAHA MAHAHACHIHIHINE! PLEHEHEHEASE HEHEHELP!” Logan begged.

“Well...How do I turn it off?” Roman asked.

“BUHUHUTTON! BEHEHELOHOHOW MYHYHY FEHEHEHEET!” Logan replied, pointing to the remote that laid on the floor.

Roman looked up and immediately noticed the cameras. “Uh oh...It’s motion censored?!” Roman reacted. “Now why would you make a tickling machine motion sensored?” Roman asked.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP AHAHAND GEHEHET MEHEHE OHOHOUT!” Logan begged.

Roman gasped and grabbed the remote. But he didn’t press the button...not yet.

“Now you listen here, you son of a sword! You, as the damsel in distress, are relying on me, the hero, to save you from the eeeevil tickle machine of your own invention!” Roman explained. “Perhaps you should treat the hero with a little more respect?” Roman asked.

“JUHUHUST PREHEHESS IHIHIHIT!” Logan begged.

“No way! Not yet. I wanna hear more of your cute little laughter.” Roman told him.

Out of all the people to call his hero…

Logan tried to get out himself, but winded up causing the hands at his feet to tickle more. “eeEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHE TOHOHOHOES!” ogan begged helplessly. “PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHARRYHYHYHY!” Logan told him.

He was gonna need some wine after he’s done this…

Roman smiled at the apology and clicked the button. Slowly, the hands started to slow down and stopped tickling the man.

Logan let out a long breath of relief and gasped for air while the hands lowered him down and let go. “Th...Thank you.” Logan told him.

Roman nodded in response and immediately noticed a button that was labelled on the remote:

[CAPTURE]

Roman smiled and clicked the button.

Quickly, the hands grabbed Logan’s hands, feet and torso, and held him up again. “eeEEK! Um...What are you doing?” Logan asked.

“Tell me: Why did you create an invention for tickling people?” Roman asked.

Logan face blushed almost immediately after hearing that word. “Uuuuuuh...Well…” Logan mumbled.

“Welll???” Roman teased. “A little reminder that I have the remote~” Roman added.

Logan growled and pulled on his hands. “Just let me out, you mischievous beast!” Logan shot back.

“Ooooh! Refusing to reply to my message? And calling me names?!” Roman reacted.

Roman clicked a couple buttons on the remote. “You just earned yourself some more feet tickles, sir.” Roman decided.

Logan squealed as the hands touched his feet and started tickling. But not just any hands...Roman’s hands! Roman had knelt down and started tickling Logan’s sensitive feet! Logan giggled at the tickles and laughed as the inner arch, the balls of his foot and the heels were tickled bit by bit.

“Rohohohoho cohohome ohohohon! Whyhyhyhy?” Logan asked.

Roman smiled. “Why did you make the tickle machine?” Roman asked. “I know you’re hiding something.”

Logan refused to answer. “Ihihihi’m nahahahat tehehellihihing yohohohou!” Logan shot back.

“Oh? And why is that?” Roman asked.

“Nohohone ohohof yohohohour beeeheheheezwahahahax!” Logan replied confidently.

“Oooooh! Looks like I’m gonna keep on tickle tickle tickling you then!” Roman decided.

Roman had moved up to Logan’s kneecaps, when someone else walked in.

“Oh? What’s this?” someone asked.

Roman turned around and brightened up. “Hello little stormcloud! You just caught me in the middle of a ticklish interrogation! Logan got himself stuck in this machine he made, and I’m trying to find out why he made it.” Roman explained to the man.

As you could tell by the nickname, the third person who walked into the room was Virgil.

“Oh? Huh...What have you found out so far?” Virgil asked, growing curious.

“None of your beeswax, was Logan’s sacred answer. So, I guess I have to keep going till he answers me.” Roman replied.

Virgil chuckled. “Mind if I have that remote?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “Sure! Thankfully, all the remote buttons are labeled, so it’s fairly easy to figure out how they work.” Roman explained.

“Looks like it. I see I can choose the amount of hands I want to tickle Logan.” Virgil explained. “How about...2 to start? And...On the hips.” Virgil decided.

Virgil clicked the buttons [2] and [HIPS], and watched as the fingers squeezed and tweaked Logan’s hips.

Logan’s laughter grew a little louder as he laughed, and grew higher in octave as well. “VEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! MEHEHERCYYYHYHYHYHY!” Logan pleaded.

“Are you gonna tell us? Tell us the reason behind such a funny invention?” Virgil asked.

“NOHOHO! IHIHIT’S EHEHEMBARASSIHIHIHING!” Logan told them.

“We don’t care. We’re not gonna tell.” Virgil told him. “The only person we might tell is Patton. But that’s only because he’d love to hear it.” Virgil added.

Logan mentally sighed. He really had to tell them, or else he wouldn’t be freed. Logan finally gave in.

“OHOHOKAHAHAY FIHIHIHINE! IHIHI’LL TEHEHEHELL YOHOHOU!” Logan told them.

“Promise?” Roman asked.

“YEHEHEHES! IHIHI PROHOHOMISE!” Logan replied desperately.

Roman smiled confidently and stopped tickling. Virgil also smiled and clicked the [STOP] button to stop the machine.

The machine took a moment or two to slow itself down, before letting the Logical side go. Logan sighed and breathed somewhat heavily to recuperate his lungs. Logan found his lungs to be heavy after being tickled so much.

Logan soon looked at Virgil and Roman. Roman was holding a bottle of water for him, while Virgil was holding a wet cold wash cloth for him. Logan smiled and happily took both items. Logan took a drink of water to help his throat, and dabbed off his face with the washcloth to help cool down. “Thank you, you two. I appreciate the care.” Logan told them.

“No problem.” Virgil replied.

“You gonna tell us now?” Roman asked.

Logan almost choked on his water. Damn...He forgot he had to tell the boys about why he made the invention.

Logan cleared his throat and put the lid onto his water bottle. “Well…” Logan took a moment. “I find that I have been growing more and more touch starved. Basically, I miss being touched, loved, and...tickled. So...I thought I could create a device that gives me what I desire for 5-10 minutes if I need it.” Logan told them.

Roman was about to cry. “Awwww, you poor being! I had no idea you felt that way!” Roman walked up and gave him a hug. “Sacred Wilbur, I would be dying if I were in your shoes.” Roman admitted.

Logan took the hug rather awkwardly, and looked to Virgil.

“I understand where you’re coming from. But, I didn’t expect...this to be a solution you would go for.” Virgil admitted. “You must’ve been desperate.”

Roman giggled. “I see you made a dummy of Thomas’s little Orange side.” Roman teased, showing him the somewhat decently made dummy.

Logan chuckled. “I think he deserves some love.” Logan admitted.

“Agreed.” Roman replied.

Virgil walked himself closer to the machine.

“VIRGIL WAIT-”

Virgil stopped, and yelped as the machine gathered Virgil’s arms and legs into the hands’ grip, and started tickling the key spots that Logan recommended it go for.

Logan bit his lip. “I...Forgot to mention that the machine is now motion sensored…” Logan admitted as he picked up the remote.

“WHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIT’S SOHOHOHO EHEHEHEFFEHEHECTIVE!” Virgil reacted.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Logan told him as he clicked the [STOP] button. “I need to program a timer into the machine to let people got after 10 minutes or so...And I need to fix the [MC OFF] button.” Logan admitted.

Virgil was a giggly mess as he was let go. Noticing Virgil enjoyed it too, Logan clicked a couple buttons on the remote. The hands moved up to Virgil’s sides, and started to tickle and skitter.

Virgil squeaked and giggled helplessly, wiggling around and liking some of the tickles it offered.

“Thihihihis ihihis fuhuhuhun!” Virgil admitted.

“Oh oh oh! I wanna try!” Roman admitted, running to the camera. The sensor sensed Roman immediately, and eagerly watched as the machine gathered Roman into a little grip and started attacking his armpits, feet, and belly.

Logan widened his eyes. He did not know that the machine could tickle two people at once! Roman was lucky he didn’t get caught in the machine earlier…

And so...Virgil, Roman and Logan all enjoyed the machine...And before Logan could get the timer installed, they always made sure that someone had the remote.

Otherwise they would be stuck in the tickle machine forever…

#ticklefic #tickle machine #switch!logan #switch!roman #switch!virgil

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girl-with-cat-eyes · 3 years

Text

Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

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eliemo · 4 years

Text

Living in Denial

Janus’s pov in “Waiting Arms”

Summary: Janus had been a careful observer lately, noting with a sort of sad fondness how the other sides treated Virgil. He'd never seen him so content.

TWs: mention of past abuse

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 (let me know if you want to be added or if I missed you)

To his own credit, Janus had been piecing things together before Roman even walked in the room.

He’d been a careful observer lately, noting with a sort of sad fondness how the other sides treated Virgil. They were careful around him, but not overly so. The four of them were clearly close, a tight knit “family” as they called it.

It wasn’t Janus’s department, but he could see the love and adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other. He’d never seen Virgil so...content. It was a bittersweet feeling.

So the idea that Roman, Patton, and Logan had been physically abusing Virgil this entire time didn’t quite add up. In fact, it seemed a rather ridiculous conclusion to come to.

If Virgil hadn’t been trembling on the floor, begging him and Remus not to hurt him (hurt him again), and shakily confessing that he had been hurt before, it never would have crossed Janus’s mind as a possibility.

And so, it wasn’t hard to come to the realization that Virgil probably hadn't been talking about to light sides.

By all logical reasoning (Logan would be pleased) he’d been talking about the Others. The less prominent, sometimes cruel parts of Thomas that would never fully manifest. The sides he, Virgil, and Remus had unfortunately spent a lot of time around for quite a few years.

Virgil’s behavior, his words, his panic, the way the light sides acted around him, it all pointed to the glaringly obvious conclusion that Virgil was recovering from the treatment the others had put him through.

Janus put the pieces together in a matter of seconds. He’d then promptly shoved it aside and jumped on board with Remus’s assumption as he stood in front of his brother, keeping Roman away from the anxious side falling deeper and deeper into panic on the kitchen floor.

Maybe it was selfish, but he could blame it on the fact that he wasn’t thinking very clearly at the moment.

He’d snarled at Roman, demanding the Prince explain what he’d done to Virgil, despite being almost entirely convinced at this point that Roman had done nothing but help him feel safe. Possibly for the first time in Anxiety’s life.

He denied the truth, despite how plainly it was laid out in front of him, because it was easier. Because accepting the truth meant accepting the fact that Virgil had undergone horrible treatment and Janus had done nothing.

All the nagging doubts he’d brushed aside, all the little white lies he’d caught onto and ignored, all the shaking hands and wide eyed, haunted looks that he’d chalked up to just another one of Virgil’s eccentricities. (He was Anxiety, after all, he was bound to be a bit jumpy by nature) All of that had been years of abuse, neglect, and mistreatment hidden in plain sight.

That little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong had been right. And that...that was terrifying.

So in the moment, he’d denied it. That was what he did best, after all.

But denial would only get a person so far. Denial would only crash and burn and spread into a devastating fire.

Because despite how hard he was trying, very little was going to be able to convince Virgil that Janus’s intent wasn’t to harm him. Not until he calmed down.

And then Virgil was gone, sinking out away from the noise in the kitchen, and Janus couldn’t honestly say he was surprised, alarmed as he was.

“Get off me, you idiot!”

Janus glanced behind him, shoulders sagging at the sight of the brothers. Roman had tried to push past Remus, the Duke grabbing the Prince’s sash and shoving him back, and Deceit knew if it was only a matter of seconds until someone threw a punch.

But in the moment, Janus couldn’t move, the loathsome truth fighting its way to the surface no matter how much he hated it, still kneeled on the kitchen rug.

The rug...the rug that definitely hadn’t always been there. The rug they’d placed beneath the cabinets seemingly out of nowhere one day. The rug that didn’t particularly go with the rest of the room.

Janus had once made a snide comment he didn’t really mean to Logan, offhandedly mentioning that they should get rid of it. He’d never seen the logical side grow so righteously defensive so quickly.

There had been a similar occurrence when he’d brought up the cups the light sides used. The plastic cups…

The truth was piecing itself together, and Janus thought he might be sick.

“What’s going on?”

Patton’s voice, frantic and confused, was flooding the kitchen before Deceit could pull himself together and reign in the chaos, the moral side skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway.

And before Janus could stop him, Remus was releasing his hold on his brother and whirling around to face Morality.

“What the fuck have you done?”

The moral side paled, eyes going wide, and Janus wondered if anyone had ever had the audacity to swear at Patton before.

“I- what? Remus, calm--”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Remus was still clutching his Morning Star, and Roman was carefully moving to put himself in between the two sides. “Tell me what the fuck you’ve done to Virgil!”

It was like a string had been cut. Patton’s face dropped, something dangerous hardening in his eyes. His gaze went to Janus on the rug still stained with spilled water, then to Roman shakily hovering in the middle of the chaos.

“Where’s Virgil?” Patton asked, and Janus had never heard Morality sound so cold. “Roman--”

“He sank out,” Janus said, finally finding his voice for the first time since Virgil had disappeared. “I was...attempting to calm him down.”

“Oh god.”

Remus reached for Patton’s arm as the moral side turned away and Janus quickly forced himself to speak again, beyond grateful for the way his words didn’t tremble.

“Let him go, Remus,” he said. “It wasn’t them.”

Remus turned to him, incredulous, but dropped his hand all the same, Morning Star still held tight in the other. Patton threw him a questioning glance, but was hurrying through the doorway without another word.

He nearly ran right into a slightly disheveled Logan’s chest.

“What on earth?” He frowned when Patton didn’t answer, barreling past the logical side and out of the kitchen. “I heard yelling, is--”

“What do you mean it wasn’t them?” Remus was spinning around to face Janus, completely ignoring Logan’s tired confusion. “Virgil just said--”

“You're not listening! ” Roman jumped in, and Janus watched Logan quietly take in the scene. “If you would just calm down and let us explain--”

“Roman.”

Janus didn’t jump- not quite. He would never allow himself to so visibly lose his composure, never in front of so many people. But Logan’s voice, the look in his eyes, was more than enough to bring silence to the room.

When Deceit looked up at Logan, it was like reading an open book. Janus could pick up on lies, read between lines like a second language, but with the logical side there really was never any need.

Logan, for all the times he claimed not to feel, felt more clearly, more strongly than even Patton. He felt and expressed his emotions more intensely than any of them, all while adamantly denying their existence.

And right now, Janus only needed a single glance to see Logan’s anger.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes on the Prince, voice steely calm. “Where is Virgil?”

There was worry beneath the anger, but not nearly enough at the moment to grant them any mercy.

“He was having an attack,” Roman explained, defenses dropping, and it was clearly a frequent enough event that Logan instantly knew what he meant. “I was trying to help him but they wouldn’t let me!”

Janus would never admit it, and he wondered if Remus felt the same, but something about Roman’s aggression sent a pang of...something though his chest. Something that hurt.

He deserved it, he knew. He wasn’t even close to being one of them. He might never be. But he’d been making strides lately, small as they were.

Now, it was like being back on the outside looking in.

But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered is that Remus was quiet, and Janus needed to keep it that way before someone threw a punch.

“I think it is safe to assume,” Logan was saying before Janus could gather his thoughts. “That Janus and Remus have no knowledge of Virgil’s previous treatment. They were trying to protect him.”

“All I know,” Janus said, the bite to his words the last defense he had left. “Is that Virgil was convinced he was going to be beaten. Again. We were a bit caught off guard, so forgive us for taking initiative, Roman.”

“And look where your initiative got you!”

“So what you’re saying,” Logan snapped, turning back to the twins before Janus could retort. “Is that Virgil had already been triggered into a panic attack, and you two decided to have a shouting match five feet away from him?”

Roman had the decency to look guilty, the fight deflating completely from his stance, but Janus couldn’t find it in him to be relieved. Not when Remus was looking progressively more and more panicked beside him.

“I was- I was just trying to help! I thought you--”

“Living room.” Logan’s voice was cold, and even Janus couldn’t shut the Duke down that easily. “All of you. Now.”

Janus, for once, didn’t argue, and he suddenly realized he still hadn’t moved from his crouch on the kitchen rug.

Regaining what little dignity he had left, Deceit quickly picked himself back up, absently brushed off his clothes like he wasn’t just barely numb enough to avoid breaking down completely, and stalked right past the others, all while ignoring the death glares Roman and Remus were sending each other.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately- he really wasn’t in a headspace to have his worst fears confirmed), the dreaded conversation wasn’t yet ready to happen.

“Logan!”

Patton was barreling down the stairs, eyes only on the logical side, trembling and frantic, and Janus felt something uneasy clawing at his tightening throat.

Remus had moved to the couch, perched on the arm with his legs crossed, watching the others uneasily. He kept glancing at Janus, but Deceit couldn’t bring himself to look over.

“He’s not there,” Patton hissed, voice laced with panic as he gripped Logan’s sleeve. “He’s not- he’s not in his room, I can’t find him I can’t--”

“Patton, please attempt to calm yourself.”

“He’s gone again!” Patton’s voice caught, eyes welling with tears, and Janus quickly turned away. “It’s happening again, he...what if he- Logan I can’t let this happen again!”

There it was, once more. Again. It was going to happen again. Virgil didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

All of it. Over and over again for god only knew how long. And Janus, priding himself on being a silent observer, on always knowing more than he let on, had just...he’d just…

Janus was sinking out of the living room before he really had time to wrap his head around where he was going, He tried not to think about the irony of following in Virgil’s footsteps.

But if Virgil wasn’t in his room, something that was clearly alarmingly familiar to the others, then Janus was almost positive he knew where he was.

He’d practically said it himself in his panic, a shred of safety he’d desperately clung onto.

“Hey, you’re ok.”

The words were already filtering in by the time Janus appeared beside the staircase in Thomas’s living room, dread already lessening at the apparent lack of panic in the host’s voice.

“You’re ok, bud. You’re safe. It’ll be ok when you wake up.”

Virgil was on the couch (Janus hadn’t quite expected to feel the relief that strongly, legs threatening to give out beneath him), eyes closed and breathing beginning to slow.

Thomas was kneeling on the floor beside him, one hand carding through Virgil’s hair, the other carefully interlocked with the anxious side’s, speaking soft reassurances as he slowly drifted off.

Thomas was a good person. Janus knew that, despite any arguments he may have made in the past for the sake of proving a point.

Thomas was compassionate. He cared, more than anyone. And yet it still caught Janus off guard to see him act so gentle towards Anxiety.

With theories of what had happened to Virgil in the past forming in his head, Janus decided that was for the best. Virgil needed people to be gentle with him.

He wished he’d been able to offer that.

Janus was taking a step forward before he could stop himself, voice much smaller than he would have liked. “Thomas?”

Thomas froze and fell silent, shoulders tensing slightly, but he didn’t turn away from a now still and quiet Virgil.

For a moment the living room was quiet, and Janus wondered if he should just duck out, hurry and tell the others that Virgil was safe.

But he couldn’t move, completely frozen once again, and Thomas let out a quiet sigh.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, and Janus did not care for being thrown off by his own host. That was his job. But Thomas was continuing before he had the chance to come up with an answer. “Can you grab me a blanket from the closet?”

Janus opened his mouth to respond, something sarcastic and witty automatically at the tip of his tongue, but then his eyes fell back onto Virgil, the guilt flooding back, and any usual snark died in his throat.

“Of course.”

Thomas had a few blankets folded up on the closet shelf, and Janus carefully took the softest one in there- a dark gray comforter he thought he might have seen Virgil use before.

Wordlessly, he handed it over to Thomas and watched as he draped it over Virgil, careful not to wake the anxious side.

“He’ll be ok,” Thomas said, and took a shaky breath. “Did you...did you know?”

“Oh yes.” There was no use in even trying to control his own response. “I was fully aware that Virgil was being horrifically abused every time I had my back turned. I stood there and did absolutely nothing to stop it. Is that what you want to hear?”

Thomas was staring at him, probably watching Deceit with that unbearably gentle gaze, but Janus refused to look. He kept his eyes on Virgil, gloved hands clutching his own sleeve, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he’d started to shake.

As awful as it was, as selfish and cruel as it was, he wished the light sides had been the ones hurting Virgil. He wished this was something recent. He wished there was an excuse for not noticing.

“Janus?”

It took him a moment to realize that wasn’t Thomas speaking, Patton now beside him in front of the couch. Thomas was nowhere in sight, and Janus had no idea how long he’d been standing here.

“Can you head back to the mindscape, please?” Patton asked, a hand coming to rest on Janus’s arm. He didn’t pull away. “The others wanna talk to you.”

Janus scoffed, still frozen in place. “You all must be thrilled. Finally an excuse to send the dark sides back where they came from.”

He didn’t spare Patton anything more than a cautious glance, but it was enough to see his eyes filled with a disgusting amount of sympathy.

“We know you would never hurt Virgil,” Patton said. “Remus wouldn’t either. We all know that. I trust you, Janus.”

Janus shook his head, throat far too tight to form a coherent answer, taking a moment to breathe. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet,” Patton said. “I...think I need to stay with him. Just for right now.”

And Janus supposed he understood that. A part of him wanted so desperately to stay, to never let Virgil out of his sight again just to be absolutely sure he was safe.

But he didn’t have the right to make that request. Not when he’d clearly failed so spectacularly at keeping him out of harm’s way before.

He sank out without another word, trusting Patton to do what he couldn't.

The living room in the mindscape was almost exactly the scene he had expected. Logan and Roman were on the couch, the Prince scowling at Remus who was pacing the floor, whatever rant he was going on falling silent as soon as Janus reappeared.

The Duke’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw him, brimming with unabashed hope and desperation, and Janus’s heart sank when he realized what Remus wanted.

Remus was waiting for a better explanation, for Janus to assure him that what the light sides were saying wasn’t true. That Virgil hadn’t been beaten behind their backs for years.

God, Janus wished he could offer him that.

Instead, he moved over to the empty armchair, sat down with his hands folded in his lap, and steadily met Logan’s gaze.

“Tell me what they did to him.”

He didn’t look away. Not when Remus stormed out of the room and a door slammed somewhere in the mindscape a few seconds later, not when Janus’s gut twisted in anger and disgust when Logan told him details.

He did, however, begin to feel like he might throw up when they explained that Virgil had been taught that it was normal.

“Janus.”

Janus hadn’t realized he’d stood from the chair, already moving towards the stairs until Logan was suddenly following him, voice curt and pained. Deceit forced himself to turn back around.

“I can’t say that I fully trust you yet,” Logan said, and Janus almost laughed at the logical side’s bluntness. “And I have my differences with Remus. But I know you two would never hurt Virgil. I know you would have stopped it if you’d known.”

Of course he would have. If he’d ever caught one of the others in the act, ever seen the abuse in action, it never ever would have happened again. No one would dare.

And they’d known that. So they’d hidden it. And Janus had never thought to look deeper into the little, seemingly meaningless lies. The way sometimes Virgil would be limping…

God, what the fuck was wrong with him? How on earth was anybody willing to accept him when it had all been his fault?

But he didn’t say any of that. There was no excuse, no reason to drag this on any longer than was needed.

“Alright,” he said instead, continuing up the stairs. “Tell me when he wakes up.”

Janus thought briefly about checking in on Remus, but quickly decided he couldn’t bear to see his own guilt mirrored in the Duke’s horror.

Later. They would talk about this later.

Instead he locked himself in his room, doubting anyone would come looking for him but fully prepared to turn them away if they did. He didn’t want to face anyone right now. He didn’t plan on leaving until Virgil was awake.

He stayed there in silence until Patton softly knocked hours later, the sky dark and his head heavy, nervously informing him through the door that Virgil was awake and up for visitors.

And in those hours, if he’d let his walls down and privately lost his carefully upheld composure, well...no one needed to know.

All that was left to do was move forward, and make sure Virgil knew he would never be hurt again. Janus wouldn’t let him. Not again.

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

Hiii could you rec any fics where Erik or Charles or both are vampires and or werewolves?

Thank you so much dear lots of love

I'm so sorry for being so late with this, but in compensation I do have tons of fics that should quench your thirst for some vampire/werewolf cherik. Enjoy!

Vampire

And the Gunslinger Followed – musical_emjay

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hunts the things that go bump in the night.

He’s done so since he was a child, since the first time his mother put a knife in his hand and told him how to use it, told him why he should.

But ten years alone on the road has caught up to him, left him wrung out and longing for a place to rest, recharge, get his head back on straight. Though nowhere has ever truly felt like home, he heads straight for New York City, a place that’s always had more to offer him by way of warmth and comfort than any other. What he finds when he gets there, however, is several miles south of anything approaching restful. Old acquaintances, old memories, and a mysterious stranger who has him forgetting all his rules — Erik soon realizes there are decisions he needs to make, before circumstances intervene and make them for him. Otherwise, he might not like the result.

An Accident of Circumstance – manic_intent

Summary: Secret Santa, for azryal00, prompts: virginity, stalking or vampire AU. Decided to attempt all, in one fic. As part of a reward for his successes in border skirmishes, Sebastian Shaw allows Erik discretion to create a childe of his own, within reason. Erik rebels.

B-Negative – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the 5 Acts thing on livejournal, for toestastegood's 'Vampire AU' Act. This was originally going to be some sort of True Blood parody, but it somehow became a bit more serious. :/

Bloodbound – ikeracity

Summary: Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Old Metal (Blood, Memory and Rubber Ducks) – pprfaith

Summary: Erik is a vampire. Sookie, err, Charles is a telepath. Any questions?

Food Allergies – madneto

Summary: A bout of insomnia one fateful night leads Erik to Xavier's, the late night bookstore near Columbia University, whose owner Erik quickly decides is the best thing since... well, since maybe ever. Charles is brilliant, funny, passionate, handsome, and every other good adjective Erik can think of, and even though they've only been on three dates, Erik is convinced this is the start of something perfect.

Then Charles has a bad reaction to the food Erik cooks for them on their fourth date, leaving Erik to wonder if maybe he's completely botched his one chance at true love.

Series

The Price for Eternity – madneto

Summary: Erik and Charles are relaxing in the park when Erik decides to ask Charles a question that has long been on his mind, re: vampires. The answer is unexpected.

Series

The Boy with the Sigil Tattoo – keire_ke

Summary: Buffy AU. The story of a boy and his vampire.

Love and Other Secrets – Microsaur

Summary: Erik is a vampire that would much rather be left alone, Charles is a baronet that can't seem to accept that.

The First One – SassyDuckQueen

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a vampire living in a peaceful life in New York City, where he works as a night time security guard at the Pentagram. He's in a relationship with Charles Xavier, a young professor at a private university. However, his life is thrown upside down by the return of his wayward son, Peter, who informs him that an old enemy has resurfaced.

Series

Blood Bound – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: Charles is sick. Again. He decides to do something drastic about it and take a Blood Contract with a Vampire who turns out to be dangerously attractive.

Night Holds No Redemption – isabella

Summary: Vampire Hunters AU

When vampires roam the city at night there are also those who will hunt them down.

Charles Xavier and James “Logan” Howlett are vampire hunters part of the NIB – Night Investigation Bureau, in New York. When Erik, a vampire Charles failed to kill, comes back to haunt him Charles finds he no longer can run from his past and has to face the truth about the monster he created.

Pairing info: Flashbacks are Charles/Erik, present focuses first on the growing relationship between Logan/Charles, then on Charles/Erik.

Endgame will be Charles/Erik.

Night Life – Ook

Summary: he young journalist, or researcher, or whatever he is, is going to get himself in trouble around here. Erik can tell.

A researcher who doesn't know when to stop.

A man who doesn't take no for an answer.

A vampire that doesn't give interviews.

Werewolf

Dancing in the Rain – Pangea, velvetcadence

Summary: Werewolf alpha Erik found a human pup Charles alone in the forest and took him back to his lair. Erik protected and cared for the boy, though he was barely a mature wolf himself.

A few years passed, Charles grew up so pretty, and Erik was afraid he would miss his kind and go back to them, leaving Erik to be alone again - but Charles stayed and chose to be Erik’s mate.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

Loyalty and Obedience – Ook

Summary: A human rent boy working the streets gets rescued from a pimp by the Lehnsherr Pack Head and his Second on a recruitment trip. Werewolves, huh?

Who knows where this one's going?

Skin Deep – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the kmeme, Everyone-is-a-werewolf AU. Erik happens upon a seemingly abandoned mansion in Westchester during a full moon and finds an insanely clueless werewolf living in isolation.

In Escrow – manic_intent

Summary: Same 'verse as Skin Deep, between the final part and the epilogue. Charles abruptly realizes that he's unable to shift forms after a full moon. Which can only mean one thing.

Supernatural and the Scientist – Caradee

Summary: Charles Xavier is a upcoming geneticist and wildlife biologist who’s next big thesis reveals a little to much about the hidden werewolf community. Now Erik Lehnsehrr is suppose to figure out who it is feeding Xavier the information and put an end to it.

However, things are not what they appear.

Open Season – Caradee

Summary: Charles is a adorable omega wolf who has no sense for pack dynamics and wanders on his own. Erik is the exhausted Alpha of the pack who is unfortunately smitten with him. Its hunting season, nothing can go wrong. Right?

Only Hope – onaxe

Summary: According to werewolf law, an unwed Omega cannot legally hold custody of a child. When Charles is challenged for custody over his 17 year old sister, Raven, he desperately turns to the only solution available. He marries a complete stranger, Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, who is haunted by a mysterious past.

Note: Unfinished but a fun read.

Tooth and Nail – TurtleTotem

Summary: Erik is no longer part of Charles's pack. It's none of his business who he takes as a mate.

Vampires and Werewolves

For you, Eternity – gerec, lachatblanche

Summary: Erik still remembers the day he lost everything to a pack of werewolves; his family, his village, and the love of his life. Left with nothing but regret and pain everlasting, he turns to Sebastian Shaw - who promises revenge in exchange for loyalty eternal.

For centuries, he leads his clan of vampires in a war against their hated enemy, the same werewolf pack responsible for the slaughter of Erik’s village. But now Logan - the pack’s new leader - wants to make peace with their age old adversaries; an act that neither side particularly cares to pursue.

Adding to this volatile mix is one Charles Xavier, scientist and academic, drawn to the continent by his fascination for the supernatural and the locals’ tales of love, betrayal and never-ending war…

On the Scent – dedkake

Summary: The full moon is nearing and Charles decides to visit his neighbor.

Does not ebb – StarkMad

Summary: prompt: "...I would love a fic with Charles and Erik in an Underworld AU basically with Charles as Selene's character and Erik as Michael Corvin's character

and/ooor nonnie could do an Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and Charles as Sonja's character and Erik as Lucian (feel free and make me cry, dearest nonnie) feel free to do whatever you want as long as the AU still remains identifiable (and just kill me with tons of Chares and Erik drama and lurve and heartache and whatever.

Dear Neighbour Mine – issabella

Summary: Fill for the prompt by Lonelyparts: Charles is a telepathic werewolf living next door to a vampire who favours severe black turtlenecks and metal coffins.

Of course they have to annoy each other first, before dangerous circumstances bring them together.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #werewolf AU #vampire art #there are surprisingly more vampire fics out there than werewolf fics #thought it would be the other way round #asks #earnestly answers

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Turns of Phrase

Prompt: I'd like you to consider: all the sides in the mindscape have the "way too literal" problem, like for example, Virgil actually grows taller when his anxiety is heightened, Patton actually grows wings when Thomas has a 'heart aflutter', e.c.t. But Roman just has a huge stack of negative ones. Creative block, bruised ego, shackled creativity, e.c.t. And then there's h/c when somebody (Logan) sees 👀👀

Thanks for the prompt babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, Roman whump

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5722

This is Roman’s fault. Really. It is. He’s the one who works the closest with the Imagination, which means he’s got control over how Thomas interacts with his own imagination, which means that he’s got control over how Thomas sees the Sides.

So yeah. This is his fault.

‘Heart all aflutter.’ ‘Heightened anxiety.’ ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ All the little innocuous phrases that are just turns of phrase, not supposed to be literal, well…they got into Thomas’s head when he was younger, and since, the Imagination has never quite gotten rid of them. Shouldn’t be too bad, right, this should be something they can deal with.

And for the most part, they do.

Patton wears the hoodie tied around his shoulders to block the chill from the slits sewn in the back of all of his shirts in case the wings decide to pop out again. When they do, everyone crowds around to make sure he doesn’t fly off into the sky or accidentally twist one. The feathers are the softest things you can imagine and work great for stuffing pillows or plushies.

Virgil’s clothes are made of stretchy, baggy material and the doorways are much, much higher than they need to be. There’s a special cupboard tucked high up in the pantry that just has Virgil’s comfort foods in them so he can reach comfortably when he’s tall.

And, well…there’s a reason Janus wears such a long cloak.

For the most part, these are just minor inconveniences. Listen, when you live in a completely imaginary world where you can summon anything you need and change anything you don’t like with a snap of your fingers, things like new clothes or snacks are easy.

Then there’s Roman.

Roman, who is tied most closely to the Imagination.

Roman, who represents not just Creativity, but romance, motivation, desire.

Roman. The Ego.

The problem with throwing around these types of phrases is how easy it becomes to dismiss them. And for Thomas, who has a creative profession, that’s good. For Thomas.

Not so good for Roman.

“Hey, you’ve been having some trouble getting ideas out lately, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just going through a bit of a creative block at the moment.”

Roman’s fists ache as he pounds on the door, heaving sobs trailing off into hitched gasps as he slumps against the unyielding wood. As a desperate last resort, he throws himself at the door, barely making it shudder in its frame. It’s as if he weighs nothing, not an ounce, unable to make so much as a goddamn dent in the world around him.

“Let me—let me out, please, let me out, I gotta—I want out,” he sobs, over and over, as his room grows smaller and smaller, the walls pressing in around him, blank, sterile, cold, “I wanna—out, let me out, let me out, let me out please—“

He’s not even in his room anymore. He’s in a pure white cage, on the wrong side of a door that will not open.

“Dude, like…reign it in a little bit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. That’s…like, way too much.”

“I dunno, I think it feels weird if we weren’t doing this.”

“C’mon, it won’t kill you to shackle your creativity a little.”

Roman wakes up to the quiet clinking of metal against metal. He goes to wipe his face and a bolt of pain shoots through his arm. The shackles spread him so far his chest aches, wincing as he tries to turn just a little to avoid the rush of agony that would come from having his arm trapped in the wrong position. At least he was lying down this time, and he’s on his bed. He isn’t being forced to stand the whole time, strung up on the ceiling.

They’re so cold.

The shackles sap the warmth from his body bit by bit, draining it until the weight of the cold pressing down onto his chest is enough to make him gasp. On instinct, he pulls, trying to get a little more of himself wrapped up, warm, safe, but the chains barely make a groan as they wrench him back apart. He grits his teeth and holds still.

He learned not to try and break these. He used to rage and slam against them like a brute, trying to pull their fastenings out of some mystical holder, embodied in his wall, only to come away with bleeding and scraped wrists from his pains, rubbed raw and chafed horribly by the cruel shackles.

For the most part, he’s able to keep the others from noticing. They can’t hear a thing when he’s trapped in the creative block. He’s careful to always wear long sleeves to hide the scrapes and burns from the shackles. They don’t know the true extent of what happens to him when Thomas decides he doesn’t want his creativity.

But he can’t hide all of them.

‘Bruised ego.’

Patton knows. Patton somehow always figures things out and doesn’t tell anyone, least of all Roman. But sure enough, after the audition, Patton showed up outside of Roman’s door and knocked, quietly asking to be let in.

Roman had let him, splattered as he was with blues and purples and greens and yellows, all the colors that didn’t belong to him, and yet here they were, painted on him. He’d kept his undershirt on, letting Patton feed him the soup that was sure to end with Roman lying on his back in the bathroom, panting, until the bowl had run dry and Roman’s smile had come back.

After Patton had gone, the smile had slid off, the paint cracked and chipped. Roman had stood, leaning against the bed for stability, and made his way slowly, oh, so, slowly, to the bathroom.

Getting his shirt off had been agony. Every time he moved skin had stretched, bruises had protested, even his muscles cried out. The undershirt was soaked in sweat and a light sheen had clung to Roman’s body as he stood there, panting, wincing in the mirror. He couldn’t look.

That had been the last time it had gotten very bad. Very bad.

They only ever seemed to notice when it was very bad.

His prince costume hides the shackle marks. His undershirt hid the bruises. No one cared to look for him when he was trapped in the creative block. No one could see. No one wanted to see.

No one knew.

Roman’s been lucky lately.

They’ve all been happening one at a time. The block never has shackles strapped to the wall. The shackles are never clasped around bruises spilling beneath his skin. The bruises are never from both beating on a door and from the outside world. He can deal with them if they’re like this. One at a time.

He’s had a few close calls, though. He almost missed a meeting with Logan because the block had him trapped. It squeezed him so tight it felt as if he hadn’t any room to breathe, not until the door and opened a crack and he’d hurled himself out, panting harshly, rushing to Logan’s. He was caught at his desk recently too. The shackles had formed and dragged him over to the corner where he’d bitten his lip to try and stay quiet as he desperately tried to draw himself away. He’d accidentally made too grand a gesture and his sleeve had ridden up, exposing the edge of a mark or bruise and he’d have to pull it back down quick enough so that no one would notice. And so far, it’s worked.

No one has noticed.

And what would he say? That this is just some dumb stupid thing he has to deal with? The others know about this whole ‘taking things too literally problem,’ look at Patton, look at Virgil, look at Janus. They all understand and they receive the same amount of attention Roman does. Honestly, they’ve been receiving what they’re entitled to. Their stuff actually runs the risk of harming Thomas. Fire, wings, banging your head, sure, that’s fine, but they—look.

Having your heart flutter signifies great emotions, the potential for love, you should pay attention to your emotions!

Heightened anxiety? It’s not great! It means we should be listening to Virgil and what’s going on, what’s upsetting Thomas, how to help.

And everyone should always be worried about spontaneously combusting pants.

And even if they did find out, what is Roman supposed to say? That it’s his fault they all have these issues? That Thomas’s psyche takes certain liberties with the hard-and-fast rules of what happens to metaphysical people? It’s his fault, after all, he’s the conduit. It’s fine. He can handle this stuff. It’s all fine.

He should’ve known his luck would run out.

Roman blinks awake to feel the walls pressing in on him, tighter, tighter, tighter. His breath catches in his throat.

No.

No, no, no, he’d been doing so well, so well, they’d just had a conversation about how he’d been so good, the ideas had been good, he’d had—he’d had so many he was ready to work on, he just needed to—

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, racking his brain. He knows he has ideas. He had them a little while ago. It wasn’t that long. They can’t have vanished so quickly. Wait, what time is it? How did they—how long has he been here? What is—how long has it been? Have the others realized he’s here yet?

What if they look for him and they think he won’t come out? What if they start to hate him because they can’t find him? What if he can never get out again? What if they realized they never needed him in the first place?

He—he’s not wrong, he can’t be wrong, he has to be right, he has to—he has to find a way out of here.

Quickly, Roman squeezes his eyes even tighter, mouth making random shapes as he tries to think. If he can just think of a really good idea, he’ll get out. If he just thinks, if he just does his job, if he’s really good he’ll get out. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this. He can—

Clink, clink, clink.

No.

No!

Roman snarls as the shackles encase his wrists, forcing to his knees, still crouched in this room that is too small, too pale, too awful. He lunges for the door as he hears the chains slowly start to tighten, their long lengths slipping over and over each other in coils.

The chains pull taut and he’s suspended there, in the dank air, snarling like a mad dog at a door that is just out of his reach.

For the first time in a long time, he slams against the chains, raging and bloody as he thrashes back and forth trying to just get to the door—

Roman, you’re on thin fucking ice.

Look I don’t wanna just hate a side but roman you royally fucked up bud

Yeah I’m definitely mad at Roman

Roman barely suppresses a whine when he realizes where the comments are coming from.

His nose breaks open and blood pours down his face. His eyes swell and darken until he can only squint through it. One of his fingers breaks and the shackle pinches.

Roman I have revoked your rights.

Roman shut the FUCK UP challenge please

After one line making fun of janus is enough to be cancelled, Roman

Even without looking down, he knows red and purple are blooming across his ribs. Roman winces pain as he howls again, trying frantically to get to the door, he’ll wrench his arms out of their sockets if he needs to—

I just hate roman!!! i don’t need a deep reason to hate roman, or anyone else

oh boi did Princey drop to least favorite side REAL FUCKING QUICK

It’s not that I don’t despise Roman he’s just never been my favourite. He’s too prideful, rude and while he does have his insecurities the way he hides them makes me uncomfortable since it’s at the expense of other characters. His treatment of the other sides is so awful.

…is he really that awful? Is…does he…is this…

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

I'm gonna spread my anti-roman doctrine. Fuck Roman. Hate that man

I genuinely hate Roman so. Fucking. Much. Like, can't stand him. Fuck him, I hate him

It’s always roman-hating hours.

A dry sob chokes its way out of Roman’s throat as he curls in on himself, another bruise leaving him gasping on the floor like a gutted fish. The chains let him fall to his knees, chest bared to the merciless door. He coughs. Blood flies out of his mouth and spittle drips down his chin. He coughs again. And again. And again. It hurts. Everything hurts.

He coughs.

The room presses in on him.

The shackles trap him.

Bruises bloom over his body.

He coughs.

This is all his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one in charge of the Imagination. He’s the one who makes sure the sides exist and can interact with Thomas. He’s the one who controls how they respond to turns of phrase.

He’s the one who’s awful to the others. He’s the one who didn’t tell them the truth. He’s the one stuck in this room, in these chains, taking a beating from words and thoughts that he can’t see.

This is his fault.

And he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

Roman gives up.

———————————————————

“Has anyone seen Roman?”

Patton looks up from the floor as Virgil rolls over. “No, I haven’t. Virgil?”

Virgil sniffs and shakes his head. “You asked Remus?”

Logan frowns. “I can’t find them anywhere. Do you know if—“

“Where the fuck is my brother?”

“Nevermind, I found him,” Logan mumbles as he turns just fast enough to avoid Remus barreling into him. “I was just coming to ask you.”

“He was supposed to meet me by the Imagination,” Remus says, bouncing up and down, “we were gonna go exploring. He hasn’t been by all day. Where are you hiding him?”

“I’m not hiding him,” Virgil yawns, “and neither’s Pat.”

“Nope! No princes here!”

“Pocket Protector?”

“No, I need to ask him about tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” Remus throws himself down on the couch. “Where’s Snakey? Maybe he knows.”

“What do I know?”

“Ah.” Logan turns to see Janus striding out from the shadows near the staircase. “We seem to be unable to locate Roman.”

Janus raises an eyebrow and flicks a speck of dust from his gloves. “What an unfortunate situation. My deepest apologies.”

“So you don’t know where he is.”

“Of course I don’t, why would I?” Janus rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve checked everywhere for him.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Janus…please.”

“Have any of you even tried his room?”

“Of course we have, that’s where I looked first.”

Janus shrugs. “Then I guess our little prince has wandered away. What a shame.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Maybe he just stepped out for a minute. Why don’t you go look again, L, we’ll check down here.”

“Oh, will we?”

“J, I swear—“

Logan quickly heads back up the stairs as Virgil and Janus start bickering. He turns the corner and is soon faced with Roman’s big red door. He reaches out to knock.

“Roman? Are you in here?”

Silence. Logan sighs and goes to turn away when he hears it.

He stops.

Goes back.

“Roman?”

He puts his ear to the door.

A soft gasp.

“Roman, can you open the door please?”

“L-L—Lo—“

Logan swallows heavily. “Roman, I’m coming inside.”

“L-Logan…”

Logan pushes open the door.

He can feel his face go sickly pale.

Roman is lying on the ground, collapsed in a pool of what looks like blood. His face is swollen, his nose broken, his mouth barely forming the shapes to say Logan’s name. His prince costume is mangled. His wrists are rubbed raw. Even from this far away Logan can see the bruises forming all over his body.

“Roman!”

There are shouts from downstairs. The others are worried. Good. Logan’s going to need all the help he can get. He just has to move first.

Oh, Roman…

“L? L, what’s going on up there?”

“First aid,” Logan gasps, then clears his throat, “we need the first aid kit! Roman’s hurt!”

“What? How’d he—he hasn’t even been in the Imagination yet today!”

“We can figure that out when we’re up there, Remus, go go go!”

By the time the others are already rushing up the stairs, Logan has already crouched down next to Roman’s head, trying to figure out the best way to get him up, off the floor, or at the very least figure out what happened.

“Stay with me, Roman,” he murmurs, petting Roman’s head as his other hand starts to carefully test where it might be hurting, “stay with me, come on…”

“Lo? Lo, are you in here?”

“No, wait, don’t—“

Patton’s cry of dismay quickly followed by Virgil’s curse means he’s too late to warn them. Logan looks up to see their faces drop in absolute shock.

“Where are the others?”

“Uh…” Virgil tears his gaze away from Roman’s crumpled figure. “Remus said he…he has some stuff that would help.”

“And I am of course more than eager to see what our favorite little prince has gotten himself into this time,” Janus drawls, still out of sight, “I’m positively brimming with anticipation.”

Patton still hasn’t recovered. Virgil carefully takes the first aid kit from his hands and rushes it to Logan. An instant later, Janus appears in the doorway.

“My, my, Patton, you look so startled, what could possibly…”

Janus trails off as he finally spots Roman. His eyes widen as he takes in the bruises, the blood, the marks of what look like prison cuffs?

“Oh, god…” Logan blinks and Janus is crouched beside them, his hands hovering over Roman’s broken form as he starts crooning to the prince.

“Oh, honey, what happened to you,” he murmurs, his hands starting to pull away the fabric cutting into Roman’s throat, “you poor, poor thing…”

“Got it.”

Remus appears in a flash, crouching down as well as Janus and Logan start to help Roman unwind from the bloody mess he’s in. Logan glances over; it’s a kit that has more medical supplies than the first aid kit. Bandages, he can see antiseptic, surgical towels…

He catches Remus’s eye and they exchange a nod.

“Where does he need to go,” Janus asks as they start to get Roman upright, “you want him downstairs?”

“Let’s get him to our bathroom, J,” Virgil suggests, carefully getting his arms around the prince’s shoulders.

“Do you think it’s safe to sink with him?”

“Presumably he had to sink out to get back to his room, but I’m not sure it would be wise.”

“So we’ll carry him,” Virgil says firmly, “all of us.”

As it turns out, Remus and Janus can help Virgil just fine. Logan snatches up Remus’s kit as Patton grabs the first aid kit, hustling down the corridor to keep up with the others.

“Lo, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Logan mutters back, “but I…I don’t think it was…the Imagination’s been closed all day, hasn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought too. You don’t think—“

“I don’t know, Patton, I…”

Patton’s firm grip on his arm speaks volumes as they finally get to the bathroom.

The tile is already warm as the others carefully lay Roman down in the big place near the edge of the shower. Logan takes a moment to check what they might need.

The bathroom is one big open space with a tub in one corner, a large walk-in shower area at the other, and two sinks with a wide counter. Patton and Remus have already started setting up the first aid kit as Janus pulls on a different pair of gloves. Virgil still has Roman’s head in his hands, murmuring softly to him.

“Is he awake?”

Virgil shakes his head as Logan sits down. “I can’t tell. He’s looking around but I—he’s not saying anything.”

“That is not completely unexpected,” Logan murmurs, “we have to get him out of his clothes. They’re making it harder for him to breathe.”

“Someone needs to stay by his head,” Remus calls, “in case he wakes up and starts freaking out.”

“I’ve got him.” Sure enough, Janus slips two of his hands gently under Roman’s head as he unclips the back of his collar. “Shh, shh, easy, sweetie, you’re safe now.”

Virgil scoots back and starts tugging on his hoodie strings. Patton, still hovering by the medical supplies, catches it.

“Hey, Virge,” he says, shooting a quick nod at Logan, “why don’t we go make something to eat? Something small, and something to drink.”

“Yeah…yeah that’s a good idea.”

As the two of them leave, Remus kneels by Roman’s feet and curses. “We’re gonna have to cut them off.”

“You mean cut the rest of them off,” Janus mutters, “what happened?”

“You think I’m not beating myself up asking that same thing?”

“We have to get Roman stable,” Logan says quickly, “and that means we have to see what—“

“The damage is,” Remus growls.

“Quite.”

“Alright. Be careful by his wrists.”

“We will.”

“Jan if you drop his head I swear to—“

“I won’t, I promise.”

“…I know.”

“You’re worried about your brother,” Logan whispers as they start peeling the clothes away, “we understand.”

Janus keeps his promise, cradling Roman’s head as the work to get the rest of his prince costume off. Under any other circumstance, Logan admits this might actually be read as amusing. Peeling Roman out of his clothes, however, has never been less devastating.

Every inch they pull back reveals more bruises. Roman’s torso is warm, throbbing, carpeted with horrible wounds. Every so often a piece will stick and Roman winces, prompting Janus to stroke his face carefully, murmuring reassurances that they’re here, everything’s okay, Roman’s safe now.

Remus chucks bruise cream at Logan and they start, methodically applying the cream and bandages. Janus gives them an extra hand where they need it, while keeping up the constant litany of reassurances. Logan comes away confident that nothing is broken, just very badly bruised.

“So what now?”

“He has to rest.” Logan pulls off the gloves, running his hand over the ground to make sure they haven’t spilled anything. “I…I don’t know how long that will be.”

“I don’t want to leave him.”

They look around, eyes wide at the strangled whisper coming out of Remus. Remus stares down at Roman’s bruised form, thankfully clear of blood now, his hands trembling as they rest on his knees. Remus looks up at them, his eyes glistening.

“The last time I left him like this it was bad.” He swallows and looks back down. “I’m not leaving my brother.”

Logan looks at Roman. Brave, strong, sweet, kind Roman. Bruised, scared, exhausted, broken Roman. His hand tightens and without thinking he tucks a stray hair behind Roman’s ear.

“He hates it when his hair is out of place,” he murmurs as Janus raises an eyebrow at him.

“We’re not leaving our prince,” Janus says firmly, glancing back at Remus. “Would you like to come sit up here with us?”

Remus shakes his head. “If something comes through that door trying to get him,” he says in a low voice that Logan has never heard before, “it’s going to have to get through me first.”

Logan nods. They take up their watch. Remus’s hands twitch every so often, and Logan sees him lay his hand on an unbruised part of Roman’s ankle when they do with a tenderness that takes him a little aback. Janus can’t seem to stop running his hands through Roman’s hair, making comforting noises every time Roman winces as he breathes.

Logan, well…Logan is trying desperately to figure out what happened.

Roman hasn’t been in the Imagination today. Remus was waiting and he hadn’t seen him.

Roman hasn’t been seen by anyone else all day.

The last place Roman was seen was in his room.

No one else has been in Roman’s room today.

“Logan,” Janus calls softly, “Logan, you’re shaking.”

Logan looks down. Oh. So he is. He takes a deep breath and takes Janus’s offered hand. “I’m…thinking.”

“About…?” Janus indicates Roman.

He nods sharply. “I’m having trouble coming to anything but a most troubling conclusion.”

“What?”

Logan explains. Janus goes pale.

“You don’t think…”

“I don’t want to think that, no.”

“R-ro-Bro,” Remus whispers, “oh, Ro-Bro, you gotta tell us something when you wake up.”

He sniffles.

“Please wake up, Ro-Bro. I gotta…I gotta kick your ass for blowing me off and getting into a fight without me, I gotta—you gotta tell me what kicked your ass so I can go put it in the fucking ground…” He sniffs again, his whole body tense, even as his hand remains gently on Roman. “You just gotta wake up, Ro.”

After a little while longer, Virgil and Patton return carrying snacks and drinks. Remus doesn’t even look as Virgil sets his octopus water bottle at his elbow. Janus murmurs a thanks and eats a little. Logan eats and drains about half of his bottle. Virgil sits at Remus’s side, Patton at his other.

“Has he woken up yet?”

Remus shakes his head.

“He’s probably just sleeping, Remus, he needs to rest.”

“I know.”

“Do we know what happened,” Virgil asks quietly, “at all?”

Logan winces. “Well…”

“…don’t like the way you said that.” Judging by Virgil’s expression, he likes it even less after Logan’s finished explaining.

“Oh, shit.”

Everyone’s gaze instantly snaps to Patton. Listen. Patton doesn’t curse. It’s a thing. When Patton curses it’s bad.

“Patton?”

“Roman…Roman has a thing,” Patton explains, “you know like…like my wings? Or how Virgil gets taller?”

Virgil nods. “Yeah, okay, but those don’t…hurt us, why would Roman’s…”

Janus is the next one to curse. “Of course…the bruised ego.”

Patton nods sadly. “Roman takes, well, it’s not really his choice, Roman is forced to take the brunt of the negative reactions Thomas has. That’s part of his thing.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Wait, but if this has been happening since…well, since Thomas has had an ego, and we didn’t know about this, then…”

How many times has this happened?

Remus growls. “New rule: no one is allowed to fuck with Roman.”

No one dares disagree. Logan scans over the injuries again. He frowns.

“Hold on…some of these seem…consistent with that judgment, but then why…”

A faint groaning sound snaps him out of his musings. A tense silence falls in the bathroom as Roman starts to stir in Janus’s hands.

“Roman,” Logan calls softly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“L’gan?”

“Yes, Roman, I’m right here. Don’t try and move too much right now, you’re very hurt.”

Roman blinks up at them, his eyes focusing glassily on Janus, who smiles. He tucks another piece of hair away from Roman’s face.

“Shh, shh, my prince, hold still,” he coos, “you’re awfully banged up, sweetie, just hold still…shh…”

“J’nus? What’s…where is…” Roman’s face swivels back to Logan. “Where am I?”

“You’re on the bathroom floor, Roman, we had to see to your injuries.”

Roman’s eyes go wide and immediately all of them reach out to hold him still as he tries to move.

“Shh, shh,” Janus shushes, “none of that now, sweetie, you’re hurt, calm down…”

“I’m—I have to—“

“You’re not going anywhere,” comes Remus’s voice from behind them.

“Remus!”

“What? He’s not!”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason to scare the shit out of him.”

“I can’t see,” Logan hears Roman’s frantic whisper as he turns to glance at the others, “I can’t—let me—“

“Logan, is it safe for him to sit up?”

Logan nods. “Just take it slow, nothing too fast. It will probably be the best if he can lean against someone.”

“Jan—“

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.”

When Roman is upright, his back against Janus’s chest, only then do Virgil and Patton relax the slightest bit. Remus doesn’t. Logan’s gaze switches anxiously between the two.

“Remus—“ Roman swallows— “Re, are you—are you mad at me?”

“A little.”

Roman shrinks under Remus’s glare. “I’m sorry.”

“Jeez, Ro, it’s not—I’m not mad at you like that,” Remus mumbles, “it’s mainly just—well, our thing is…you know, cat pile.”

“You’re—you’re mad because you can’t lie on top of me right now?”

“Yeah! It always makes you feel better! And now I can’t help you feel better!”

“R-Re—“

Remus lets out a wounded noise and surges forward, careful to avoid barreling into any of the others as he wraps his brother in a protective hug. Janus huffs lightly but stays upright. Roman’s eyes close and his head drops to rest against Remus’s.

“I’m the only one allowed to fuck with you,” comes Remus’s muffled voice, “no one else.”

“I know,” Roman whispers, “I know.”

Logan swallows heavily. “Roman,” he prompts softly, “we aren’t mad at you. We won’t get angry with you.”

“...promise?”

“I promise.”

“Promise.

Janus just squeezes Roman’s shoulder gently. “I promise too, sweetie. Now, will you tell us what happened?”

“I, um…” Roman’s gaze flickers over to Patton. “Have you—um…”

“I’ve told them a little, sweetheart,” Patton says when Roman can’t finish his sentence, “we’ve figured out the ‘bruised ego,’ is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

Roman nods. He turns his head back towards Remus, his face contorted. Logan carefully reaches out to ruffle his hair.

“Take your time,” he whispers, “we’re not going anywhere.”

“I have three,” Roman blurts out after a moment.

“…three, honey?”

“Patton has…the wings, Virgil has the height, Janus…Janus…”

“Has the pants.”

Janus lightly flicks Remus’s head, shaking his head fondly.

“Are you saying you’ve got three turns of phrase, Princey?” Roman nods. “Okay. Is one of them ‘bruised ego?’”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay. Are you comfortable telling us the other two?”

Goosebumps rise on Roman’s arms and Janus carefully positions them so Logan can help rub them away. Remus growls protectively and huddles closer.

“…creative block,” Roman murmurs, only for Remus to tense. Remus raises his head slowly.

“Ro-Bro?”

“I, um, my room—my room shrinks and I—I can’t get out the door, I can’t move anything, I can’t breathe, I—“

“Shh-shh-shh,” Janus soothes instantly, “you’re safe, my prince, you’re in the bathroom with us, you’re not there, you’re not there.”

There are a few tense seconds of deep breaths.

“…what’s the third one, Roman?”

Roman looks at his wrists, turning them over as if he doesn’t recognize them. “…shackled creativity.”

Patton clenches his fists as Virgil muffles another curse. Remus follows Roman’s gaze, the line of his shoulders growing tenser by the second. Janus carefully laces his fingers through one of Roman’s hands, Logan lacing his through the other.

“Thank you for telling us, Roman,” he murmurs, “and…I do not know how much this is worth to you, but…we are so sorry this happens and that we could not do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Roman murmurs, “it’s my own fault.”

The bathroom falls silent.

“…Roman, it’s not your fault.” Virgil scoots closer. “How—this isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one that’s the closest to the Imagination,” Roman says softly, completely convinced of what he’s saying, “I’m the one that makes it possible for Thomas to see us…the Sides, the Imagination…isn’t that my job?”

“Not like that,” Logan says firmly, “never like this.”

“Logan’s right,” Virgil says when it looks like Roman’s about to argue, “you’re the conduit for the Imagination, but you’re not responsible for everything that this place does, let alone how Thomas interprets and internalizes stuff.”

“None of this is you, Roman.” Janus rests his cheek against the top of Roman’s head. “None of it. It’s not Patton’s fault he grows wings, it’s not Virgil’s fault he grows taller, and it’s not your fault that this happens to you.”

“You’re missing someone off the list there, Jan-Jan.”

“Remus, I swear to god—“

Remus cackles, throwing his head back as Janus swats at him. Of course, the problem is that they all try and look mildly annoyed at Remus, and yet the instant it makes Roman giggle, even a little, they all have to break character because Roman’s smiling again.

“Seriously, Ro-Bro,” Remus says after a moment, “this isn’t on you. You don’t deserve this or some other fucked-up shit. This is fucked up all on its own. You’re not responsible for this.”

“We’ll talk to Thomas,” Logan says, “about…negative feedback and internalizing things, alright? This isn’t healthy, Roman, it’s not—it’s not supposed to be like this, and it’s definitely not your fault.”

“…okay.”

“Can you say that for me, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, reaching around to cup Roman’s face, “that it’s not your fault?”

“I-it’s not—“

Roman stops. Swallows heavily.

“Go on, my prince, you can do it.”

“…I-it’s not my fault.”

“Good.”

“It isn’t my fault.” Roman’s eyes go wide and something hitches in his throat. “It is—isn’t—I—oh, god—“

They catch Roman as he starts to cry.

“You did so well, sweetheart, so well, I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s okay, Princey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you, my prince, I have you.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Ro-Bro, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, Roman.”

Roman rests there, in the arms of his family, bruised and exhausted, but not broken.

Not anymore.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious ��@firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @private-snippers @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @such-a-dumbass

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

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rebloged-content · 3 years

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Recommended Sanders Sides creators

Marry Christmas, everyone! And a wonderful December day to all of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, too. Let’s be honest right off the bat, though: I’m only using the date as an excuse to do this list anyways.

So. Throughout the time I’ve spent as a part of this wonderful corner of the sanders sides fandom over here on tumblr, I’ve often found a new creator and wished I’d found them sooner. It kind of makes me wonder who else I might miss. If you do to, here are a few creators I’d love for you to check out. You’ll probably recognize some of the names, if not all, but maybe you’ll find a new favorite creator here?

And to the creators in question, I really love your content. If you’ve made it onto this list, you’ve definitely cause one or two sleepless nights of reading for me, because who needs sleep if I can have this, right? XD Whatever you’ll find written next to your name is the impression you’ve left on me and… Well, just know that you’ve made some days of my life at least a little happier, all of you. And I hope to repay the favor by telling you how much I appreciate you releasing your content into this world… Well, repay the favor at least a little, I suppose.

Let’s begin, then, shall we?

@5am-the-foxing-hour Because this? This is who you go to if you want to read good Janus-content. You are in a mood to read sympathetic Janus? Wanna see the danger noodle just casually interact with other sides? Go to their short stories. I mean, “the cult”? Prime example of how to tell a story with impact in just a few words. 8 paragraphs, but boy did I read that one on repeat. Or “water spray bottle”, this one is fun, short and will make you laugh. An energy drink for the fander heart, so to say.

Then there’s their mafia-au, “there’s more in me than precious metals”. Six are out so far, and I adore every single word of every single part of this. Protective Remus, sassy Janus, angst, comedy relief, destruction, Roman-Remus-sibling-rivalry, braincell Logan, survival instinct Virgil, working together over a common enemy… This fic has it all, believe me. Take your time and read it, because you will read the entire thing in one go once you start. At least I did, and I didn’t even notice.

And their advent writings? Those had me squealing and jumping around in a way I will deny if anyone ever sees it. I don’t even know what else to say, they are fucking fantastic and that’s that.

So, yeah. Go check them out, before I start fangirling about them even more. You know my personal favorites now, so just go there. You won’t regret it.

Next up is @coconut-cluster. Ah, yes, Lexi. Lexi, whose uni-AU started as self indulgent and has become the loceit story on tumblr. We all know her, or at least most of us do, and we all love her too. And while I also drop everything I do at any point of time I possibly can once I realize the uni-au has any form of new addition, there are a lot of other fics created by her that you should check out as well.

Did you, for example, ever want a sappy prinxiety one-shot with the sappiness only being implied, a mutual understanding of “we’re-not-saying-we-care-but-we-both-know-we-do” born from joking reassurances and a not-a-date-nope-only-a-break? While that may seem to be a tall order, that is exactly what “before the sun goes down” is. Plus there’s ice cream. Or maybe you’re more of a logince fan? Do you want a fic where Roman isn’t the prince but serves His Highness? Do you like sincere talks while you’re procrastinating showing your face to the subjects you don’t really want to rule over? In that case, you really should read “Viva la Vida”. Careful, though, this one is so sweet you’ll probably get a toothache… There also is an analogical fic that I’ve enjoyed very much: “Cracks in the Ceiling”. I love it, because it’s just calm. Fears creeping up on you, thrown away by a trusted friend with a few words, just by being there and playing into the metaphors you head created this time around. It’s calm, and there’s not really a climax or anything, but it doesn’t need one. Because it’s just a glance into everyday life. It’s beautiful in its own right, really.

What I’m saying is, Lexi has a lot more wonderful stories to tell than the uni-au. It’s the most popular one, sure, and it’s one of her best works. But you really should check out her other fics as well. Lexi herself once said that she writs fics she’d like to read. I would figure it’s because of this, but her stories are mostly things you don’t really find anywhere else. Dynamics, stories, world building, all of those are aspects you may find somewhere else. But Lexi is just one of those people who see what they miss in a fandom and create it themselves, and among these creators Lexi is my favorite. She just has that certain skill that makes that approach to writing result in the most enjoyable reading experiences. Lexi’s fics are special, because they’re different, because they are authentic and you can feel that when you’re reading her work.

@djpurple3 is another talented individual I want to talk about. I have to confess, DJ is, as far as original content goes, almost exclusively locked in my brain with the fiction “I just keep loosing my beat”. 23 Chapters so far, one better than the last. It’s a bitter-sweet story following Remus and his children, after the bitch of a mother has been brought behind bars. Abusive piece of shit. Yeah, I don’t like her much. But the story is so full of love and support, everyone trying their best, everyone seeing how much the others deserve the world and wishing they could give it to them… Roman and Remus have a sibling-dynamic I would die for here, too. Patton is just the most adorable friend to Deceit - here Damion - Virgil is a precious bean, Logan is cute and the teacher we all wish he’d had ourselves and… god, I could keep gushing about this fic forever. I’ll stop now, though, before I’ll start spoiler things. Wouldn’t want to do that, especially since I really, really, really want more people to give this a go. It’s not underrated, I just think everyone who doesn’t is missing out by a lot, so… Go over there and read DJ’s fic right fucking now, if you haven’t already read it at least once. Thank you.

@delimeful, our wonderful lime-friend with a cute cat making a terrifying face in his header. First of all, there is the WIBAR universe, short for “Watch it burn and rust”. 5 chapters in act one, 4 intermissions (one of those with three chapters), one chapter of act two, as well as three extras and an au of this au called “the end of being alone”, and I’ve lost count of how many nights I spent reading those instead of sleeping like I should. (Or interacting with family. Or being productive. Or… It’s really a good story, okay?!) WIBAR is a deathworlder au. So a space au in which humans are regarded as dangerous deathworlders who can survive on a deathworld like earth. In other words, Virgil is the only human, and boy does that scare everyone around him. And the best part? You can feel the development, the shift in mentality regarding Virgil, feel the moment approach in which he isn’t a threat but a companion instead.

And, apart from the fic that inspired me enough to start writing “TINND!R?” over on my writing blog, there are a lot more amazing fics to read on lime’s blog. He wrote “How easy you are to need”, for example. It’s soft, it pulls at just the right heartstrings, it’s achingly hopeful and, god, the ending still has me in tears, even after the fifth - ? sixth? something among those lines - reread. This one’s a werewolf au, actually. Virgil is the werewolf, Logan, Patton and Roman are the humans.

Do you want yourself some of that pre-AA dynamic? I’d recommend “to taste your beating heart”. In this, Virgil gets separated from the rest of his group of vampire hunters and gets turned into a vampire himself, loosing his memories. And he’s “Anx” now, not “Virgil”, goddamnit! He isn’t their friend anymore, why don’t they understand that? Well, probably because they can still see Virgil’s old habits shining through. There’s a lot of tension, a lot of angst and a whole lot of frustration involved in this.

He also wrote some amazing one-shots. They’re mostly so well written that I’m almost sad not to be waiting on a continuation. There’s “the littlest mermaid”, in which Virgil goes to investigate a noise, finding a scared, tiny mermaid in need of help. In “community gardens” we have Remus being Remus, gaining the interest and friendship of the forest’s giant Logan. “Magical mutualism” tells the tale of a witch and a demon making a pact beneficial to both parties and opening the doors neither could have gone beyond alone. The way we’re all confused about our ships not actually having set sail yet comes to a hight in Virgil in regards to his friends in “amateur matchmakers”. And this is the point at witch I stop talking before I actually recommend every single one of lime’s fics instead of just my favorites as I had planed because I started to gush too much… XD

Let’s move on to @muppenthings. Mupp is an amazing artist and she created a giant mermaid au. There’s this one orca who’s just… We love her, but I actually don’t think she’s the brightest. I really, really love her, though. Virgil himself is being a little protective over his human friends and casually so. I love this comic series for the art style, but I also love the way it makes me crack a laugh at least once per work. Or appeal to my mother-instincts, if it’s about baby Virgil. Too cute for his own good, I tell ya! And the facial expressions! The detail, the jokes, everything about this is wonderful. You should at least take a look.

@whenisitenoughtrees. Cat got me with “This cup of yours tastes holy (This lie is dead)”. “A slow voice on a wave of phase” was next, later “Infinity and beyond”, “we are not alone in the dark with out demons” and “changing of the guard”. And then, suddenly, the night was over. I’ve read almost all of the fics in one go, and I’ve been semi-frequently visiting her master post ever since. When “There’s an endless road to rediscover” came out just a little while back, that lead to me re-reading through almost the entire list. I don’t regret it, my plans for that weekend would like to disagree.

These six fics I mentioned here are, by no means, the only ones I enjoyed. Those are just the ones I’ve found myself opening up again and again in sleepless nights. Those are the ones that pop up in my head and have me smiling to myself in the middle of god-knows-whatever-I’ve-been-doing-at-the-time.

Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, you’ll find everything in that list. And something I’ve grown to like about Cat’s fics even more than anything else is the quick change between feeling perplexed, a startled laugh at certain wordings (you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it) and apprehension. These fics will have you at the edge of you seat, swooping you away on an emotional roller coaster. And, god, the way Cat writes from Remus’ perspective? The introductions of her stories and the way she redirects to the main topic after going into detail on something? I saved a few paragraphs as screenshots on my phone because I love them and I want to read them again when I’m down. I just… Cat’s great.

Next up is @eliemo. Because Elias Virgil is the royalty of Virgil angst. From the touch-starved Virgil we’ve all had a head cannon of at one point in “Heart of Ice”, over ace Virgil panicking over telling his boyfriends that he his ace and didn’t think to tell them before in “Love our way” to so, so much more.

Mostly EV follows the story arc of an underlying feeling of dread at the beginning, which slowly grows into panic, exploding in a storm of angst and concludes in everyone, or at least whoever is around, coming to the rescue and helping to calm down, with the end being the hope for getting better in the future. They always manage to convey the confusion, fear or just the general thought process so well that you can’t help but get absorbed in the story. They know exactly what to say and what to leave between the lines to get the maximum effect. And, your heart will definitely be shattered after their angst. Still, the way the sides comfort each other and support each other so well every time is just… I love their stories, a lot.

I want to make two more suggestions if you want to check out this creator. A Janus angst fic, which can only be described as “ouch” you’ll find under the name “snake bite”. It hurts in the best way possible, because Janus gets the comfort he deserves.

The other suggestion gets a lot darker. It’s about Virgil having been abused by the “others” before he got accepted into the light side. The others are shocked to find out what has gone on behind their backs and they help Virgil in every way they can to recover. Of cause it’s a rocky path, though. This would be “Learned Behavior”. The series/au has twelve stories so far, one of which has two parts. You’ll find the master post for this pinned to the top on their blog.

If you like angst, you should also give @maybedefinitely404 a look. Ly has a soulmate-au going, in which they use the concept of “you hear the music your soulmate listens to”. "Music in my head” is a prinxiety fic, but the two of them have yet to meet. Four chapters and two mini-fics in. The reason I mentioned angst is because in this - spoiler alert for the first few chapters here - , Virgil gets put through conversion therapy. Luckily Janus and Logan are better foster parents than the ones who did that to him.

They also have a master list for all their soulmate stories, featuring different ships. Apparently they participated in soulmate month, if I understood that correctly. And to be honest, that was how I even found their account. I absolutely adore their anxceit fic, which takes place in a human au. It’s starting off pretty sad, but the bonding moments are absolutely wonderful. It’s a lovely story, and the ending is one of the best ones I’ve yet to read. Their logince fic took my breath away, too. A flower shop/tattoo artist au, and Logan is the tattoo artist. Stunning writing, wonderful world building, just the right amount of backstory to have everything make sense without overwhelming/drowning the reader in unnecessary details. Their moxceit fiction… Well, this one had me in tears within the first few paragraphs. It’s terrible and you feel for Janus, whose perspective this is written from. The ending, though… Gods! The ending was so indescribably cute. To be honest, all of the soulmate stories are great, these three are just my personal favorites.

Concerning their one shots, you’ll probably have to figure it out on your own concerning this. I haven’t been able to read all of them yet, as sad as that makes me. Definitely palling on doing it in the future, though. I did read two of them, though. “Pippity poppity” really was amusing, and I am so looking forward to the second part of “The Boy who sings next door”. The way they write the dynamics between the sides? I live for that.

Another creator I would like to recommend is @maybe-im-tired.They don’t have a master post, as far as I could see, but they only post their content anyways, so… “Can’t take my eyes off of you” is my favorite out of their fics so far. I mean, the way they managed to fit the sheer chaos that is intrulogical into this one short fic is amazing. And you could take about two thirds of what Remus said and put it up on your wall as out-of-contexts-quotes. Don’t worry, he says them out of context anyways, and they will definitely make you laugh.

The series of short stories for the human au that starts with “Glowing stars” is another au by them that you will almost certainly like. We have Logan and Virgil as kids (about 7 I think), Remus and Patton as single parents, Roman as the most adoring uncle, Emile as babysitter and Remy as his amazing partner. Remus is a great father, wonderfully chaotic as well. And a teacher! Imagine that, Remus as your teacher... He’s great with kids though, as long as they aren’t entitled villains come to make his precious Virgil feel bad, that is.

They also wrote a bunch of “random one shots”. They are all amazing, but my favorite has to be this one. It’s a logince one, once again human au. Patton may or may not tell his big brother’s crush about the feelings he wasn’t prepared to share yet. You know, as small kids do. It’s soft, it will make you smile as much as Logan does, and I love Remus in it. I generally like how they write Remus, okay? I know how much I’ve said it, but I’m not even exaggerating. They always write him differently, and all versions they write him as are so, so lovable and just… I wanna hug the life out of all Remus versions they wrote, okay? Take a look, you’ll know why.

Anyways. Let’s continue with @figurative-siren-song. This is the last account I’ve followed and I’m still sad about it having taken me this long to find them. Little salty, to be honest. (I’ll stick to they/them because they said just not to use she/her, and, well… consistency, you know? Don’t have much, so I have to get what I can XD). When I finally did find them, I went through their entire master list (at least all of the ships with characters I actually know. I’m kinda bad with the shorts characters, so I usually just… avoid them? Idk. Personal preference, I guess), and, well… I would honestly recommend every single fic on that list. They call themself “Repair Fluff King™️” and they deserve that title. But when they warn you that a fic will be angsty, it will be angsty.

I found them through the anxceit fic “A Deal”. Well, through an animatic by their friend on youtube that had linked the fic, but details. I’ve been reading this fic up and down again and again. It’s just so good! And when they talk in the second part and Janus explains why he proposed that deal. Or in the continuation, which i can’t talk about because I will probably spoiler things! So wholesome!

Also, their losleepxeity fic “We’re worth it”. So soft! The nicknames, the plot, the everything. It’s softer than clouds look, and we all know that means something.

But, really. Everyone will find something for them by this creator. So many ships, all incredibly well written, and soft and fluffy without getting boring in the slightest. It’s as energizing as coffee, actually. And, let’s be honest, this whole fandom drowns itself in angst most of the time. Take a break from that, repair your broken hearts with goof fluffy content that you’ll want to read over and over again. Go check this creator out. You will love them.

Last but not least… @myfriendsasthesides A blog by a creator who just takes the wonderfully chaotic dynamics of a friend group and using that to give us content of incorrect sides quotes. Maybe it doesn’t fit with me going on and on about fics here. I don’t care. Follow them and turn on those notifications, please, because seeing even one post of theirs on your dashboard will make your day. It’s funny, it’s absurd, it’s chaotic, it’s making you jealous of them for having friends like that. Believe me, you will want to see those posts. It’s just… the random shots of serotonin and dopamine out generation needs really fucking desperately 100% of the time.

That’s it with the list! Eleven creators I absolutely adore, and I’m sorry I was babbling so much all the way through, but… Well, actually I’m not sorry. And actually, half of the reason I even made this post is to tell them how much I love them and fangirl about them a bit. So… Yeah. Well.I love you guys and hope you’ll have a wonderful day! And to everyone else reading this: I hope this helped you ind some new creators you can enjoy. And a good day to you too, of cause.

Sincerely, Joy 🖤

(@joylessnightsky/@sanders-sides-fic)

#I hope it's okay to you I just went ahead and did this #if you don't feel comfortable with this or anything written in here feel free to let me know #also no I didn't check the spelling #I'm too tired to do that anyways #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #recommendations #list

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Previously On Relic Keel:

Remus, Saint, Sirius, Leo, and Logan have woken Luke in the dead of night and convinced in to take them into his father’s study to look for the treasure map he had supposedly taken out on loan before he was sent to jail. They explain to Luke what they need, but Luke has no knowledge of it. Tensions are high when Saint finds a hidden safe behind a frame and opens it to reveal an envelope addressed to Luke in his father’s handwriting. They only get higher when Logan snatches it from Luke’s hands and uses it as leverage to convince Saint to help him break Finn out of Saint Clair. Saint agrees and Luke is left alone with his father’s letter, and the memories of talking about the treasure with his father before he was taken away.

We meet Remus the next morning on the docks, ready for his morning sail, only to find Sirius waiting there for him. Sirius agrees to go sailing with him. It’s a little awkward, and Remus can’t stop wondering about Sirius and Saint’s relationship. As they ride the wind and waves together, some of the wariness is relieved and Remus learns how Saint escaped from Saint Clair: an accident. Sirius doesn’t know how he plans to do it again.

And Saint won’t tell him. Sirius has to follow him to the orphanage in order to get Saint to let him help. It turns out Saint plans to climb down the chimney and then exit the doors from within, just like last time.

Before we can see if he pulls it off, we go to Marlene and Dorcas. Marlene finally tells Dorcas that she got into college, at Berkeley. Dorcas is supportive of her girlfriend, promising that they’ll figure this out.

We go back to Sirius and Saint who make it into Saint Clair safely. We learn that Saint didn’t let Logan come because, if it went wrong, they needed someone on the outside who knew Saint Clair well. Saint gets cut on his way down the chimney, but is otherwise okay—except for the memories. Saint Clair brings back feelings of the Crucio-ridden dreams, and feeling out of place. Saint has always felt out of place—In the world, in his own skin. He hopes to find files on his mother, but they are locked up. We learn Saint’s real name is Sebastian, and that he hates it. They find Finn in solitary and get him out safely, though he is weak from not eating and from Crucio.

Logan is waiting nervously with Leo. Leo wishes Logan would have told him he was going to threaten Luke like that. Logan feels guilty, but there’s a sadness of missing someone that they share, only Logan is getting the person he misses back. Leo says that they can stay with him, when Finn arrives, if they want to. Logan realizes that he thinks of Leo as home.

Luke is sitting alone, having opened his father’s letter. There are only two words, a name: Pascal Dumais. He’s surprised to find Saint resting on his window sill, having climbed to his room once again—and hurt. Luke cleans his wounds and asks Saint why he came here instead of going home to Sirius and his other friends. Saint says it’s because Sirius will just want to talk about what happened and because Luke is mean, because Luke is what he expects him to be. Luke also learns that Saint knows exactly who Pascal Dumais is.

***cw: mentions of drugs and addiction, mentions of drugs used medicinally, mentions of hurricanes, mentions of grief and death******

part viii

Lily knew she would probably miss dinners at Gryffindor Club when she went away to school. She knew that she would miss her family—even Petunia. She raised her iced tea to her mouth and looked around their small table, the one they almost always sat at. It was like each family had an assigned seat, just as each student did in class. This who island was one of assignments. Neighborhood. Job. Partner. Everyone seemed to expect her and James to be together.

She wanted that, too—quietly. But not like this. Not with an assigned table.

Not, when James and his parents walked through the clubhouse doors, she could have predicted it to the very second. Clockwork, she remembered saying to James. This island ran like clockwork, and sometimes she felt like she was skidding across the watch’s face.

The hostess greeted the Potters as everyone did on the island. A hug, a laugh. Everyone loved them. James looked flushed and fresh out of the shower, dark hair curling into its usual wild self as it dried, his button-down snug around his shoulders.

“You’re hopeless,” Petunia said from beside her.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Shush.”

James hadn’t quite seen her yet, but if she knew where to look, where his table was, he knew where her’s was, too. When their eyes met, a smile crossed James’ face like a race, like Lily had seen him fly up a lacrosse field—and then it tripped. He caught himself in his happiness, and Lily’s heart caught with him.

He sent her a small wave, and then turned and sat down between his parents, his back towards her. That wasn’t his fault, all the tables angled towards the ocean, but it felt like he was looking away from her.

She looked back down at her dinner and tried to focus on what her father was saying, but it was difficult. While their entrees were being taken away, James made his mother laugh. While they ate dessert, he got that exasperated set in his shoulders that he did when college came up and his father patted a soothing hand on his back. When Lily and her family’s chairs scraped as they got up to leave, James turned around and rose, too. There were pieces of cake in front of his parents, but nothing in front of him. He walked over to her and greeted her parents kindly, said hello to Petunia, and then looked at Lily. His hair was completely wild again, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Want to hang out?” he asked.

“Oh, is that what it’s called these days?” Petunia grumbled, and Lily’s mother sent her a look. Lily just nodded.

“Sure,” she turned to her parents. “See you guys at home.”

“Don’t be out too late,” her father said.

“Dad, it’s summer.”

“Still,” Mr. Evans laughed as he held the door open for his wife and daughter.

“Do you want to go to the field?” James asked as they turned the other way, towards the open balcony doors—the same direction Lily had lead them the night she’d refused him. “I bet we could sneak some wine from the cellar.”

Lily smiled. “You better choose a good one.”

Olli, working at the bar, turned a blind eye to their not so careful sneaking down and up the kitchen stairs. James hadn’t looked too carefully at what he chose, but Lily didn’t mind.

“Did Luke ever get his car back?” she asked as they walked across the grass, Hogwarts Academy looming up in the dark in front of them.

James turned to her. “Oh man, no one told you?”

“Told me what?”

James blew out a breath, laughing and raising the bottle. “We better open this first.”

They settled in the very middle of the lacrosse field, just over the Hogwarts Castles’ logo, and James pulled the cork. They traded the bottle back and forth as James told her about the Voldemort, a tale they’d grown up with, and about Saint Clair and the breakout, and about Luke and his father.

“Pascal Dumais,” Lily repeated. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Me neither,” James said, taking a sip. “But apparently Sirius and Saint know him. And Luke’s father, I guess.”

“How is Luke?” Lily asked. “Marls always says she can’t really tell. And then there’s the…”

James nodded and he swallowed, picking at the grass. “Crucio. I know. I tried to help, but I guess he’s still…He’s just so angry.”

“I don’t understand why though, with the Crucio, I mean. You know? Doesn’t it just…make you relive things? Why would you want to just keep reliving the same thing over and over again?”

James glanced at her, hazel eyes careful. “To change it? Or to hope that it might change?”

Lily felt herself flush, with the wine, and beneath his gaze. She hadn’t meant it like that, but she supposed that was what they were doing. Lily didn’t know what she would change, though. The island? James? Herself?

“Do you…” James began quietly, and when Lily looked over at him, he was still looking down. The high moon caught the curve of his jaw, the glint of his glasses. “Do you think about it?”

The question made Lily feel like all the field lights had come on at once, striking her and baring her to the world. He didn’t have to explain. Lily knew he was talking about that night. Their night. Lily looked back at the sky and closed her eyes. James’ hands had been warm, dipping between her legs, cupping the small of her back when she’d arched against him. He’d smiled into their kisses, like he couldn’t help it, until he couldn’t anymore, until her heat had made his mouth slip open, until she’d wrapped him up against her so tightly there was nothing to think about but never parting. It had been quick. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. But it had been perfect. Intoxicating.

“Of course I do,” Lily whispered.

“Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it,” James replied, and it brought a thrill to Lily’s fingertips, adrenaline to her gut.

She thought of him, alone at night in his bed, unable to stop thinking about it. She knew she couldn’t sometimes, either.

“Not it,” he added, eyes still raised towards the stars. “You.”

You, Lily’s mind repeated. Him. Those smiles. James’ smiles. The way he blatantly asked for what he wanted, asked what she wanted. The way he’d knock on her door and they’d spend entire days together—the way they’d been doing that since they were ten. James had tried to teach her lacrosse, she’d tried to teach him how to knit. James used to come on the floaty that trailed behind their speedboat with her, when she was younger and never wanted to go alone. It had been both expected and surprising the first time they’d kissed—sixteen and awkward. She’d laughed it off and cried about it to Marlene later, unsure why she was crying.

You. I can’t stop thinking about you.

“I thought you wanted to stay in…in whatever space we’re in,” Lily whispered back.

“I thought you didn’t like the space we’re in,” James replied. “I want…Fuck,” he laughed a little. “Isn’t the whole point not to know everything right now? Isn’t what you want not to know everything? To get outside of this circuit? So, can’t we just…”

“James, this circuit is your life.”

“Stop telling me that,” James urged. “I have…” he ran a hand over his face, and there was real distress there, way beyond the two of them. “I have no idea what my life is.”

Lily reached out, brows drawn together, and put a hand on his shoulder. He was warm through his shirt. “J…”

“I don’t need to know,” James said and when he looked up at her, he looked pained. He took his glasses off, rubbed at his eyes again. “I don’t need to know. Do I?”

“No, of course not, I’m sorry,” Lily whispered. Her hand moved to his neck, thumb stroking softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

He kept his head down and let Lily tangle her fingers in the soft hair at the base of his neck. Lily put her head on his shoulder. She felt James relax a little, felt his arm wind around her waist and his mouth press into her hair.

“Let’s just…not know for a little while?” he whispered, and she nodded, pressing closer.

Grimmauld place was wild and open, Logan thought, lying beside Finn. As he brushed Finn’s hair away from his face, he liked that the first thing Finn would feel when he woke up was the ocean breeze on his face, that the first thing he would smell was the salt and the sun.

Some books, piled up beside the bed, served as a place for a waiting glass of water and toast with butter and honey. Easy on his stomach, Leo had said when he’d dropped it off, along with some more filling foods for later, which were waiting in the refrigerator. Logan had wanted to ask him to stay, but Leo was going to work. Leo didn’t—Leo didn’t even know Finn. Logan didn’t know why he wanted Leo to stay.

Saint and Sirius had both come in at various moments in the early morning, as had Dorcas, but Logan was only dimly aware of their presence. Now, the sun was turning the morning warm, and Finn was beginning to stir beneath Logan’s touch. Logan propped himself up on his forearm, heart beating hard.

“Finn?” he whispered as Finn breathed in slowly—the easy, long breath of waking up.

“Finn,” Logan whispered again, palm on his cheek.

Finn turned into Logan’s hand and opened his eyes. Those brown eyes that Logan’s subconscious, that the Crucio, had never gotten quite right. Finn blinked heavily a few times and Logan held his breath, trying to reel the relief that welled in his chest. He wanted to throw himself onto Finn, crush them together—but Finn looked so fragile. Thin and confused.

His eyes cleared at the sight of Logan, though, and then filled with bright tears.

“Is this real,” he barely whispered the words, his voice hoarse from disuse, as if scared to break the spell. His hand twitched on the bed, as if to reach forward. But touching didn’t work with Crucio, and it would only hurt to know that they couldn’t touch—Logan knew that all too well.

Logan nodded, throat too tight to speak. He took Finn’s fingers in his own and kissed his palm before pressing it against his own cheek.

“I’m warm, aren’t I?” he managed.

Finn just stared at him, then past him at Grimmauld’s wooden ceilings, at the sunlight beginning to flood into the room.

“You’re out. You got out. You’re okay."

Finn found Logan again quickly, as if he couldn’t help it. His palm pressed against Logan’s cheek, sliding around to cup the back of his head.

“Come here,” Finn said the words like a breath of relief, like air, and Logan went.

He buried his face in Finn’s neck, let Finn pull as much of his weight on him as he wanted, and wedged one of his arms around Finn’s back, the other buried in the hair at the base of his neck, just like Finn’s was in his own.

They lay there, just breathing. Logan felt Finn’s chest rise when his own did. They pressed against each other, like their hearts were trying to get closer. Logan didn’t think he’d feel close enough to Finn ever again.

“Lo,” Finn whispered after a while, and Logan had thought that maybe he had fallen asleep again, was content to lay here and wait for him to wake again, but he looked up at his name on Finn’s lips.

Finn pulled him forward again and brushed their mouths together once, twice, and then smiled. A laugh spilled from him, eyes wet again.

“I missed you,” Logan felt his voice tremble beneath the words, and they felt too small. Words felt too small for Finn.

“You could have been caught,” Finn whispered, fingers combing Logan’s hair back from his forehead, as if re-memorizing the feeling. “God, I don’t remember…how?”

“I didn’t…I…Finn, I did some bad things to get you here,” Logan swallowed dryly, closing his eyes at the feeling of Finn touching him again. “And it’s really hard to be sorry about it right now, but…”

Finn made a soft sound, and Logan couldn’t help but smile when he felt Finn’s thumb brush just under his eye, a small warning, before they ever so lightly touched his eyelashes. They were long, and dark, and Finn had always loved them, had repeated that gesture a thousand and one times, even when they had been all of eight years old, whispering to each other and staying up past their curfew.

“You’re okay,” Finn said, and then, “God, I’m starving.”

There Logan was, being selfish again. He scrambled for the toast, cold now.

“Leo says to take it slow,” he said as he handed it over.

“Leo?” Finn asked as he pushed himself up to sit. He hummed gratefully when Logan handed him the glass of water, too, and took a small sip, then a bigger one.

“He’s—yeah, Leo. He—” Saved me. Helped me. Was kind. He’s what I think home feels like, but I need you there, I need you to tell me, to be sure.

“Oh,” came a voice from behind them, and Logan turned to see Sirius. “You’re awake. That’s good.”

Finn nodded, mouth full. He glanced at Logan. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Shit,” Sirius laughed a little. “I’m Sirius. Sorry. This is—uh,” he gestured around. “Well, I wouldn’t say my house. I live here? But welcome to Grimmauld, stay as long as you like.”

“He’s Saint’s friend,” Logan said, and then realized. He said quietly. “Bash.”

“Bash?” Finn’s eyes widened and Logan shook his head.

“He doesn’t like to be called that. I try not to slip. I’m getting better.”

“He never did,” Finn nodded, then said, with a small smile. “Saint, then. I…yeah, he…he was there. In solitary.” Finn shook his head. “I thought it was the drugs.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, we were there.”

Finn looked at Logan. “Lo?”

It wasn’t accusing. Just curious. But Logan heard the question anyway. Why weren’t you there?

“It’s not his fault,” came Saint’s voice as he emerged the same way that Sirius had come. His hair was a mess of curls on top of his head, his eyes a little puffy from a hard sleep, but focused clearly on Finn. “I told him not to come. He almost burned a house down to get you back.”

Logan flushed with guilt.

Saint walked over to sit beside Logan and smiled a tired smile. “Are you okay?”

Finn nodded. “Thanks to you. Saint.”

Saint’s eyebrow raised a little at the weight Finn put into the word. A pleased light flickered over his face.

“Eat something,” Saint said. “You look bad.”

Finn laughed a little as he took another bite of toast, and Saint rose, walking over to where Sirius was. Saint folded himself against Sirius’ chest and closed his eyes. Sirius was staring out the window towards the waves, but wrapped an arm around him, and tilted his temple to rest against Saint’s.

Finn’s eyes were questioning, but Logan just shrugged. He didn’t know if they were together or not. Sometimes it seemed like they were, sometimes it didn’t. Logan didn’t really care just then, he only wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Finn’s hair and watch him eat. He couldn’t wait until he had his strength back. He’d take him to Leo’s. They’d go swimming in the ocean for as long as they wanted and find work somehow. Somewhere safe.

Finn leaned into his palm as he ate, smiling at him in a way that made Logan have to scoot closer to him, their crossed knees touching.

“Leo makes good toast,” Finn said.

“Leo makes good everything,” Logan laughed. “Leo’s just—good.” Logan pressed his hands onto Finn’s thighs. He was still wearing the clothes from Saint Clair. They’d have to find him something else. Logan thought of the money in his bag, and where it came from, and the Crucio beside it. He swallowed, trying to keep the worry form his face, and rubbed a thumb over Finn’s knee. “You’ll see.”

A whistle came from down the hall, and Dorcas emerged, hair and mess and eyes on her phone. “Hurricane’s supposed to roll in in the next week. Fuck, it’s supposed to be really bad.”

Logan looked up. He could remember a few hurricanes while in Saint Clair. The rattling windows and the mess of fallen trees afterwards. “Have they named it yet?”

“Botilda,” Dorcas nodded. “Hurricane Botilda. Makes sense, after Albus last year.”

“We should start trying to board up now,” Sirius said. “Grimmauld barely made it last year.”

“We should try to be somewhere else when it hits,” Dorcas replied pointedly. “It wasn’t just the house that barely made it. And they’re saying it’s bad, Sirius. Really bad.”

Logan felt Finn scoot closer to him, and smiled when he felt a kiss pressed to his neck.

“Where will we go?” Finn whispered.

“If you suggest—” Sirius began, eyes dark and on Dorcas.

“James would let you two stay with him,” Dorcas said. “He would. And I could get away with staying with Marls.”

“No,” Sirius snapped. “We don’t need their help.”

“God, you’re so fucking proud,” Dorcas sighed.

“Interesting choice of words,” Saint laughed. “Gods, and their holy souls.”

Logan thought of Leo. Of his warm house, and his offer. They could stay with Leo…would Leo really want them to?

“Anyway. We’ll decide later,” Saint patted Sirius’ cheek and sauntered out of the room. “I have a lunch date.”

Luke had asked to meet him in Rowena, and Saint thought that felt neutral enough. Not the Hollow, not Godric. Although, if they were talking about Pascal Dumais, they might as well have gone to the Lion. Baby steps, Saint supposed. After all, he was already surprised that Luke had asked to meet up at all.

He was even more surprised every time he brushed against the bandage across his ribs. Had been surprised by Luke’s—touch, he guessed. He thought of his messy scrawl that filled the corners of the copy of Jane Eyre Saint had swiped, now sitting in Grimmauld. He had spent more time last night studying the formation of each written letter than actually reading.

Saint, standing on the sunny sidewalk, waiting, rolled his eyes at himself. Luke was an ass. Saint was, too. Luke liked books. Saint wondered if he liked to talk about them, wondered what he wanted to do with himself.

He probably wanted to leave here, just like Sirius did. Just like Marlene, and Dorcas, and Saint’s own fucking mother.

Saint wished he had tried harder to get into the files at Saint Clair. Maybe he could have known her name by now. He had tried so hard to remember, but the only thing that ever came up was maman. A hazy memory of crying, of reaching for her as arms carried him backwards, that he didn’t know if he made up or not.

Now, if felt like he never would.

“Sup.”

Saint turned to see Luke standing there, aviator sunglasses on and a white t-shirt.

Saint sent him a quietly disbelieving look. “You don’t actually talk like that, you know.”

Saint took his sunglasses off, folding them into his shirt as he led them towards the restaurant. “What?”

“Sup,” Saint parroted. “Dude. Hey, man.”

“How do you know how I talk?” Luke yanked open the door like he was fighting against it. It wasn’t the gentle touch Saint remembered across his skin, but Saint didn’t like it any less.

“Because I’ve read your writing now,” Saint replied, and walked through first, even though Luke hadn’t been holding the door for him.

“Hey,” said a boy at the counter. He had dark skin, and gold glinted in his ears. “Take a seat wherever.”

“No, you haven’t,” Luke snapped as he followed.

“Luke,” the boy laughed. “Chill, man.”

“Sup,” Saint said to the boy, then looked at Luke. “Deveaux, you picked the place, what should I have? Also, you’re paying.”

Luke shot him a look, but approached the counter. “Hi, Thomas. Two burgers. Also, are we scrimmaging later?”

“You know it, baby. Two coming up. How you like them, or…?” Thomas asked.

Luke looked at Saint. “Do you like pickles?”

“Nope.”

Luke grinned. “Yeah, how I like them.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes, but complied.

Dorcas ditched her bike in the grass outside of the building with the sign that read Blizzard’s. It was the most popular ice cream spot on the island.

The bell above the door rang out happily as she entered, the smell of sugar and sunscreen hitting her as she looked around at the bustling tables, painted bright colors. Natalie was behind the freezers, long blond hair scooped up into a messy bun as she handed out cone after cone. She winked at Dorcas when she saw her, and jerked her chin towards the back. Dorcas smiled back, and slid behind the counter and through the door into the back room.

“Meadowes,” Kasey looked up. “You’re early. Hear about the storm?”

“Yes. Kase, can I ask you something?”

Kasey smirked. “You’ve never asked to ask me anything before.”

Dorcas sent him a sarcastic glare, and leaned on the counter, feeling the weight of her pack shift against her back. “I’m thinking about getting out.”

Kasey paused for a long while, then sighed. “Yeah.” He looked back towards where Dorcas knew the greenhouse was, where the Crucio grew, hidden among the other plants. “Yeah, me too.”

“Seriously?”

“This was something I took up when I was younger, you know?” Kasey replied. “I wanted fast cash, and I was using Crucio myself at the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Felix. You know how it is. I was lost. This shit can pray on lost people. Now…now I want a different life. With Nat. I wanted it to be safe, you know? Crucio. I wanted it to be used correctly.”

Dorcas nodded. She knew that well, too. Kasey and herself had had countless discussions about the medicinal uses of Crucio. But it was a slippery slope. It could go wrong. It had gone wrong in the Carrows’ hands. They laced it with drugs that forced one to give up control of their memory, it allowed the reliving without the learning. It became a Pandora’s Box, a place where your greatest desires lived, as well as the addiction to desire. The Carrows put things in there that let the addiction out first, before any of the healing properties. Used correctly, the plant provided a safe place for grief, or hope, or longing. Used incorrectly, it created a false reality in which to live.

“That doesn’t sound like getting out of the game exactly,” Dorcas said.

“It’s getting out of the illegal part of it,” Kasey replied. “The dealing. I want to start a company. Therapy and classes. I want to help people, not give them a late night quick fix.” Kasey glanced up at her. “We were actually hoping you’d join in. But here you are, wanting out.”

Dorcas sighed and slid into one of the ragged leather chairs. “I like the sound of that. The only reason I agreed to work with you is because your aim wasn’t to take advantage. But I…”

“Marlene?” he asked.

Dorcas took her hat off, staring at the front, where Marlene had painted their initials, intertwined.

“She’s leaving,” Dorcas said. “For school. And I…I need to be able to go with her.”

“Do you have savings?”

“Some,” she nodded. “Enough for a plane ticket. I’ll have to get it in cash though, which always makes them think twice.”

Kasey laughed. “No bank account with drug money, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Dorcas sighed, and let her head fall back. “God, Kase, what the fuck am I going to do? She’s going to meet some California chick at school and just…there are so many amazing people out there. And she deserves the best of them. Not some drop out.”

“If you drop out of one thing, you can drop into another,” Kasey replied. He pushed his chin length tawny hair out of his face. “Now, I’m tired of your feel-sorry-for-me bullshit. You’re smart and in love and one hell of a person.”

Dorcas let her head drift to one side to smile at him. “You too, Kase. You know that don’t you?”

“Oh, I tell him as much as I can,” came Natalie’s voice. She came around Dorcas’ chair and slid onto Kasey’s lap with a light kiss. “But he’s basically as stubborn as you are.”

Dorcas snorted, but then went quiet. She looked around at the back room. It was tidy chaos, the perfect environment for inspiration.

“You two could put the Carrows out of business,” she said. “You really could.”

“If we can get the funding up,” Kasey said. “Then, yeah,” he smiled at Natalie, stroking a hand over her bare shoulder. “We could.”

“Two burgers,” Thomas said, then laughed a little. “Extra pickles, no onions.”

Luke looked at Saint, who just sighed.

“You’re the picture of chivalry,” Saint said, but picked it up. “The very image.”

They took their first few bites in silence. Saint figured Luke would talk when he was ready, but when he just pulled out the letter his dad had left him, the single slip of paper with nothing but Pascal’s name on it, Saint guessed he’d have to take the first step once again.

“We should be meeting at the Lion, you know,” Saint broke the silence. “That’s where Dumo is.”

“Dumo?” Luke repeated.

“Pascal. Pascal Dumais. Everyone calls him Dumo.”

Luke nodded, as if taking this in. He was fidgety as hell. Saint had never seen him do anything with his hands except throw a punch or tuck them beneath his crossed arms. Or hold Saint steady. Now, he picked apart his fries, shredded the label on his soda and his paper napkin, and chewed slowly.

“I don’t want him there,” Luke finally said. “I want to know about him first. Tell me.”

Saint nodded. He could understand that.

Saint picked up his water, breaking the cap’s seal. “Me and Sirius have been…it’s just been the two of us for a long time. Most of our lives.”

“I remember when Sirius left school,” Luke said. “There were all kinds of rumors. Most kids thought he was, like, dead or something.”

“He sort of was,” Saint replied. “But, then again, so was I. We were free, but we didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Dumo could see that we were on our own, of course.”

“Did he threaten you?” Luke asked. “With authorities, or whatever?”

“The opposite,” Saint said, twisting the cap this way and that. “He didn’t push. He made sure we had what we needed, but he didn’t push.” Saint smiled. “And I hate to be pushed.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve figured that out.”

“He said something recently, actually,” Saint continued. “About Leo’s father. And the treasure. They used to go out on Leo’s dad’s boat together.” Saint shrugged. “Maybe your dad went, too.”

“I didn’t know anything about it,” Luke said, staring down at his food.

“I think, more often than not, children don’t know half of what their parents are.”

“Or anything of them, right?” Luke said, then winced. Actually winced. “Sorry. I don’t…”

“Right,” Saint just sighed. “Or anything. Like me.”

“I guess you’re tired of the poor orphan boy thing,” Luke said. “But you can’t tell me you don’t play that card.”

“I’m tired of it in more ways than I can count,” Saint said, then laughed. “But, yes. It’s helpful, when I need some extra work. Sometimes. Some people feel bad. Some people don’t trust me. Like you.”

“You haven’t given me any reason to trust you.”

“And yet, here we are,” Saint waved a hand at the restaurant. “You want your father. And I want my gold. And Logan wants to be free of debt, and Finn wants Logan, and Sirius wants…” Saint swallowed. “And I don’t actually know what Lupin wants.”

“I don’t think Remus knows what Remus wants,” Luke leaned back in his chair, and Saint felt their sandaled feet brush beneath the table as Luke stretched his long legs out. He pulled them back. “Sorry.”

Saint briefly thought about hooking their ankles together, just to see what Luke would do, but instead tucked his feet beneath his chair, giving him room.

“So, tonight?” he said.

Luke shook his head, confused. “What?”

“We’ll talk to Dumo tonight. You’ll come to the Lion, his restaurant, tonight. In the Hollow.”

Luke looked away, towards the other customers, the busy lunch scene. “Who else will be there?”

“Sirius will want to know. Leo. Maybe no Logan just yet, he’ll be with Finn. Bring Lupin, if you want. What, you don’t like people?”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You’re the one who came to me because I’m mean.”

Saint laughed. “I came to you because I don’t like surprises and you’re exactly what I expect you to be.”

“And that’s mean?”

Saint rose, crumpling his napkin and throwing it onto his empty plate. “Five o’clock tonight, before the dinner rush.”

Luke nodded and followed him out of the restaurant, waving to Thomas, and back into the heat of the day.

“Oh,” Luke called as they split ways, Luke towards his car, Saint towards the beach. Saint turned to see him squinting in the sunlight. “And whatever it is that you took from my room—and I know you took something—bring it tonight.”

Saint hummed, as if thinking. Then, he pulled Luke’s sunglasses from his pocket and put them on.

“No,” Saint chimed, and turned on his heel, smiling at the curse that followed him.

Remus ran into Sirius outside of the Lion, and almost laughed at the surprise that washed over Sirius’ face when Remus smiled and said hello. In a way, Sirius reminded Remus of Luke. Unassuming when it came to affection, but bright when they let themselves feel it, accept it.

“I keep thinking I’ll see you again,” Remus said. “Waiting for me on the dock.”

Sirius pushed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had a tank top on, and Remus’ eyes lingered over his tan arms.

“I didn’t know you wanted me there,” Sirius sounded almost bashful when he said it.

Remus’ smile was teasing, but his eyes were firm. “I think you should stop assuming things about me.”

Sirius blinked, and went to open his mouth to reply, but Remus only shrugged a shoulder and held the door open for him.

“Did they ask you to come, too?” Remus said. “Saint and Luke?”

“Yeah,” Sirius mumbled. “Well, Saint.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Hey, did you hear about the hurricane coming? It’s supposed to be a heavy one.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Remus glanced back at him as they walked through. He didn’t see Luke or Saint yet. “What do you mean?”

Sirius pointed towards the coast as they slid into chairs. “We’re right off the point so, it’s a lot of nailing wood boards and sandbags and…you know.”

“The point,” Remus repeated, and Sirius nodded.

Remus stared at him. “You’re…not actually thinking of staying there.”

Sirius looked at him and Remus held up wary hands.

“That wasn’t a dig, calm down, I’m just saying—the storm.”

“We’re fine,” Sirius said. “We’ve always been fine.”

“You can’t be—it’s not safe.”

“Well, I’m sorry if not all of us can afford—”

“Stay with me,” Remus blurted, and it sent them both into silence.

Sirius shook his head. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you a little,” Remus looked up as a waitress brought them ice water. “I knew you a little when we were eleven, before you disappeared.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t disappear. A God would think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Once someone exits your little bubble, it’s easy to pretend they don’t exist.” Sirius scooted his chair to the side a little, defiantly, eyes on the door. “No. Thank you. We’ll be fine.”

Remus just stared at him. He was like two waring currents, Sirius Black. Hot and cold, mingling below the surface where Remus couldn’t see. They surprised him each time he brushed through a different one. He thought of the boat, and changing winds, and Sirius’ smile. There was no trace of it now.

“You’re going to risk your life to prove a point?”

“I’m not.”

“Which, risking your life, or proving a point?”

Sirius just scowled. “Thank you for your offer.”

Remus sat back in his chair, too, if only to mirror Sirius’ crossed arm position. They stared at each other.

“They say the winds are going to be up to—”

“Look,” Sirius sighed. “I—”

“You could really be hurt,” Remus said, and when Sirius opened his mouth again to respond, Remus cut him off again. “Or Saint could be.”

Remus watched the way Sirius’ eyes lightened at his name. He saw a crack in the surface, a shift, but before he could say more, there was a shuffle of feet and Luke was standing by their table.

“Luke,” Remus said, looking up at him. He didn’t look any better than he had the night they had gone to his house. Remus felt another wave of guilt about that. Luke had purple beneath his eyes and his sweatshirt was one that Remus knew well. It had been left at his own house for weeks, only for Luke to pick it up later. It was a little small, from before he had bulked up from lacrosse, but Luke still wore it, fraying edges and all.

“Hey,” Luke cleared his throat, pushed a hand through his hair, and sat down. “Yeah, hi.”

He was nervous, Remus realized.

“Where is Saint?” Luke asked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Remus practically felt the cold current grow. “He’ll be here.”

Luke didn’t rise to the bait. He looked rattled. He pulled the sweatshirt off, his haste nearly taking his shirt with it. His cheeks had pink spots on them. Remus reached out to touch his arm.

“Luke,” he said. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” Luke cut him off, but then looked at Remus more softly. He nodded. “I’m okay, Re.”

Remus nodded, then looked back to Sirius in time to see his eyes dart from Remus to Luke and back, narrowed.

“What?” Luke snapped.

“Sup,” Saint’s voice came.

Remus looked at him as he sat down, then back at Sirius.

“Jesus Christ,” Luke mumbled.

“You know, Deveaux,” Saint said instead, and smiled at Luke. “There’s a song that came on in your car. Been stuck in my head ever since.”

“Where’s Pascal Dumais?” Luke asked.

“Straight to the point, then,” Saint replied. “He should be here. Might be in the back.”

Sirius rose, palms flat on the table. He still looked exasperated. “I’ll go find him.”

That left Remus alone at the table with Luke and Saint. Luke still seemed rattled, and Saint was just looking between the two of them.

“Are you all right?” Remus leaned in to ask. “You look…”

Luke took a slow, uneasy breath and looked over at Remus. The green in his eye seemed to blend more with the brown, his pupils large.

“This guy could have information about my dad,” Luke began, and glanced behind him in the direction that Sirius had gone. “I’ll let you know how I am when we talk to him. I…” Luke hesitated.

“Three,” Saint said softly. “Two…one—”

Luke pushed his chair back, too, turning towards the counter and the kitchen doors. “I don’t want Black warning him off or something.”

“What?” Remus made to rise, too, but hesitated. “Luke—“

But Luke was already ducking beneath the counter and more or less blasting through the kitchen’s door. Remus saw Leo do a double take and take a step towards him, shouting a protest.

Saint called out to him, then rose. “It’s all right!”

Remus watched him walk away in that smooth way of his, and lean against the counter, clearly explaining to Leo.

Remus had no choice but to follow.

The kitchens smelled like spiced meat and fresh bread. It was steamy with boiling water and frying pans, cooks yelling to each other as they prepared for a full service.

Remus floundered for a moment before he found Sirius and Luke. Luke was easy to spot, taller than anyone else there. He was talking very quickly to a broad man with a dark beard and kind eyes. He had the sort of hands that Remus associated with his grandfather. Meant for making, strong and scarred. Remus stepped up beside Sirius, who was watching.

“Pascal Dumais,” Remus said softly to Sirius.

Sirius was gazing at Pascal with a look on his face that Remus had never seen before. Soft.

“Dumo,” he replied.

Pascal shuffled them all into a back office where he pulled extra chairs around a table, pointed some of them to a slightly scraggly couch, and pulled out a bottle of what looked like homemade wine. It was light orange in color, and he handed each of them a glass.

“One of my wife’s many talents,” he smiled. “It’s orange wine.”

“Tell us now,” Luke said. “Tell me why my father—”

They all looked up when the door opened, and Leo slipped inside. He looked around warily at them, then managed a slight smile at Pascal.

“I don’t know how to reach Logan,” he said. “I…”

Pascal shook his head. “Sit down, Leo. You’ll need to hear this, too.”

Saint scooted over, into Sirius’ side. It pushed Sirius closer to Remus, and Remus tried not to settle into the warmth that Sirius radiated against him. He looked around the office instead, jaw clenched. It was filled with family photos, but it wasn’t until Remus looked closer that he realized it wasn’t just three children that appeared beside their parents, three children who were nearly Pascal and his wife’s spitting image. He recognized a young Sirius, and beside him, a young Saint. They were smiling wildly. It brought Remus back all those years.

Sirius, there one day, gone the next.

Pascal took a sip of his wine, his eyes going somewhat sad. Remus found himself looking at his hands again. He missed his grandfather.

All us Lupins, Remus. We go mad. At least that’s what they say.

“We shared a love of history,” Pascal said to Leo. “Your dad and I. But, of course, we by no means had the funds to truly commit to such an,” he laughed lightly, a little sadly. ”A hunt.”

He looked at Luke. Pascal spoke with the heavy island accent.

“That is where your father came in.”

Luke hadn’t touched his cup. “He was your funding.”

Pascal nodded. “But I didn’t know that he was…I didn’t know where he was getting it from. I never dreamed that he was…well, I’m not sure what they took him for, in the end.”

“No one seems to be able to tell me,” Luke said lowly.

“You never said,” Leo whispered. His blue eyes weren’t betrayed exactly, but he looked shocked.

“No, Dumo, you really didn’t,” Saint said.

“What was there to say?” Pascal replied. “Do you know how many people look for that treasure? At first I thought Wyatt, Leo’s father, was mad.”

Remus stiffened.

“And then,” Pascal rose. “Then he brought us the map.”

“The map,” Leo repeated, and he stood. “The map to The Cradle?”

Pascal swallowed and nodded. “Yes. I don’t know where he got it, he wouldn’t say.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, and shook his head. “Why…why was he out there alone? Why was he out there in that weather?”

“You need a storm,” Pascal sighed and rubbed his eyes. “At least that’s what he and Victor thought.”

“My dad was actually hunting with you?” Luke asked. He and Leo wore almost identical expressions.

Pascal nodded. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it? A Hollow, a Helga, and a God, working together.” His eyes flit around at them all.

“Why a storm?” Remus asked. “Like, for tides or something?”

“Exactly,” Pascal nodded. “There’s a current in The Cradle. They call it—”

“The Horcrux,” Remus said, and when Saint sent him a questioning look he spread his hands, drawing a circle in his palm. “It’s a killer. It’s why people are so wary of sailing near there. It’s strongest when the winds are high, and the island ring keeps it contained. And it’s so rocky that it…” he looked at Pascal, realizing. “My grandfather used to call it the ship-sinker.”

Pascal nodded. “He’s not the only one. I thought Wyatt was insane, but Victor didn’t.”

Leo took a step forward, and Remus watched his chest rise and fall, eyes turning angry. “Then why wasn’t Victor out there?” He turned on Luke.

“Come, Le,” Pascal shook his head. “It isn’t this boy’s fault. We all knew it was dangerous.”

“And what?” Leo said, voice raising. “And he was the only one who thought it was worth the risk?”

Pascal was quiet for a long moment after that. Remus heard Leo’s real question, too. He was the only one who didn’t think he was leaving something behind? Pascal seemed about to speak once or twice, and then shook his head.

“I don’t know,” Pascal whispered, voice pained. “I didn’t even know he was going.” He looked up at Leo. “I didn’t know he had gone until we heard—”

Leo turned his back, then, and pushed the door open, disappearing down the hall. He left silence behind him.

Luke stood in the middle of it, like the quiet didn’t weigh him down at all.

“And my dad’s letter?” he asked. “Your name.”

“Jesus, Deveaux,” Sirius snarled from beside Remus. “Give it a fucking minute.”

“He’s not the only one who has been waiting for answers,” Luke snapped back. “It isn’t my fault he didn’t like them.”

Pascal rose without a word and turned to the desk. He opened a deep filing cabinet drawer and, from the very back, slid a rolled piece of paper, tightly bound in a protective plastic.

“The map,” Luke said, eyes trained on it.

“This showed up a few days after your father’s arrest,” Pascal replied. “That’s all I know. I tried to get in contact with him. I really did.”

“But it went down with Leo’s father,” Saint said. “Why are there two?”

“There is never only one of anything,” Pascal said. “The world is too greedy.”

Luke reached for it, but Pascal held it back with a knowing expression. “Do I look stupid? I’m not giving you any clue as to where that gold might be. I don’t need anyone else getting—”

“Caught up?” Saint mumbled, and Remus felt the motion of Sirius slugging him.

“All fine,” Saint said with a smile, and stood. “Don’t worry about it, Dumo. We understand.”

Pascal let out a slight laugh. “Don’t think I don’t know about your slippery fingers.” He tapped the rolled map on his palm. “This won’t be in the same place twice.”

Saint pouted. Sirius stood, too, keeping close to Saint. It left Remus feeling cold on the couch.

“Why did you tell us, then?” Sirius asked.

“Sometimes there are things that people need to know,” Pascal said. “And sometimes there aren’t. You had my name. I did tell you why. But this. This is dangerous.”

“This is opportunity,” Saint shoved his way in front of Sirius.

“For what, wealth?” Pascal scoffed. “There are easier ways.”

“You don’t what to finish the job?” Saint shot back.

“I already lost one friend out of it,” Pascal said evenly. “I won’t lose a son, too.”

Saint froze and Remus saw Sirius freeze, too. Saint didn’t even look like he was breathing. His silence was equally as heavy as the one Leo had left behind.

“I’m not,” Saint’s voice barely came out, but it filled the small room. Remus thought his hands were shaking.

Pascal just nodded, eyes solemn.

Saint turned, shaking Sirius off when he tried to catch him, and then Luke, tried, too. Remus blinked and they were all tumbling out of the room, Luke on Sirius’ heels, Sirius on Saint’s.

“Stop,” Sirius shouted as they broke back out into the night. “Saint, it doesn’t matter—”

“Nothing does,” Saint yelled back without turning. “And so nothing turns into everything.”

Sirius stopped as Saint turned into shadows, as he got farther and farther away. Remus caught his breath beside him, but Luke kept going.

“What?” Sirius asked. “You’re going after him?”

“We need him,” Luke snapped over his shoulder, and disappeared, too, the white soles of his sneakers glinting like the moon rising.

“You’re not?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius.

Sirius’ eyes looked far away. With Saint, Remus thought.

“Saint can’t be chased,” Sirius sighed. “He loses everyone. He comes back.”

They stayed there, though, just at the edge of The Hollow, looking into the dim night. Remus wondered what Luke thought Saint would give him.

“A storm,” Remus said. “The treasure needs a storm.”

“Botilda,” Sirius nodded. “I know.”

“Do you think he’ll…or Leo and Logan—”

“Maybe.”

Remus reached for him, put a hand on his shoulder. “You know where I live, right?”

Sirius made to pull away, but Remus held on. “Just answer.”

“Of course I know where you live,” Sirius sighed. “This island isn’t that big. Though some people might prefer if it was.”

Remus huffed out an annoyed breath, and let go. “There’s the tower. Round, a turret. There’s a door at the base of it. Go through it, up the stairs, and through the door to your left. My room’s just down the hall, and there’s a guest bedroom right across from it. I’ll leave the doors open.”

He left Sirius standing there, and with a strange pull in his chest.

Finn couldn’t help but feel strange, walking up to Leo’s house, his hand in Logan’s. It was small but cozy, with warm light coming from inside the windows, and flowers growing in the small yard. He could see the workshop garage door that Logan had described. Someone had painted the metal as a sky full of stars.

“This is such a…” he began, then laughed, feeling almost giddy. “Such a house.”

Logan laughed, too. His smile hadn’t faded once since Finn had gotten back on his feet. He didn’t feel all the way there, the tiredness still lingered, but at least now he felt like he could eat an entire horse—and no longer in tiny bites.

“It is, I really like it inside,” Logan replied as they stopped at the door. He squeezed Finn’s hand, and kissed the back of his palm. “You’ll see.”

He raised his fist to knock, and they stood there for a long, quiet moment, Logan leaning his head on Finn’s shoulder, before the door opened. Finn let himself take Leo in. He was blond, and tall. Lean muscled and—and he looked unbearably sad. His eyes were red.

Leo looked at them and Finn almost could feel Logan’s smile fade.

“Leo?” he asked.

“I…” Leo began, but his breathing caught, his eyes falling shut as he tried to keep his tears at bay.

Finn didn’t really know what made him do it, but he reached forward and put a hand on his arm—at the same time that Logan placed on on Leo’s back.

“Leo, hey,” Logan said gently. “Hey… what is it?”

“Let’s sit,” Finn said. He caught a glimpse of the living room behind Leo and the two of them got the door closed and led Leo to the couch. He sagged into it.

“I’m sorry,” Leo choked out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Logan said, shooting a worried, confused look at Finn. “We…what…”

“What can we do?” Finn asked timidly. Leo didn’t even know him. He probably didn’t want to be crying in front of him.

Leo looked up at Logan and a strange story spilled out of him. A ship, Finn caught. Gold. A hurricane and a death. Logan seemed to understand every word of it, his eyes wide. Finn realized he still had a hand on Leo’s back, and pressed it back into his lap.

“I never really thought too much about…” Leo’s voice broke. “How. If it was terrifying or…”

Finn looked at Logan across Leo. He shook his head, showing he didn’t understand. Leo must have caught the gesture in the corner of his eye because he turned to Finn. Finn stared at him. Some people just looked gorgeous when they cried. Leo was one of them.

“I’m sorry,” Leo rasped. “This isn’t how I wanted to meet you, Finn.”

Finn just shook his head. “I…no, don’t…It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

“He just,” Leo’s breathing caught, and he looked back at Logan. “There’s a difference now. It wasn’t the storm. He chose to—he chose to go.”

Logan placed a soothing hand on Leo’s neck and leaned in so that their foreheads nearly touched. Finn leaned back a little, staring at the inch of space between them.

“We know how it feels to have someone choose to go, Leo,” Logan said softly. “We understand.”

Logan looked at Finn, and Finn didn’t know what else to do but nod. That he could understand.

“We do,” Finn said softly. “We understand.”

Leo wiped his eyes and looked at Finn. He tried for a shaky smile. “I guess we have some explaining to do.”

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Monsters in the Closet

Title: Monsters in the Closet

Summary: “You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

Roman knows he can’t change the past. He can’t change the way he treated Virgil horribly, driving him to feel the only way he could be accepted was to be the villain of the story. But he can sit there and feel guilty knowing he is not worthy of any of the trust this young Virgil has placed in him.

(Part of the Tiny Virgil verse, takes place after An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare)

Word-Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Brotherly Prinixety

Warnings: Guilt, Panic/Anxiety, Treating Someone Wrongfully in the Past, Deaging, Hurt/Comfort

This part of a very late birthday present for @theeternalspace! I’m so sorry this took so long, please forgive me and I hope you enjoy! :)

Roman lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. Virgil is still snuggled close to his chest, asleep again after waking up what appeared to be a horrible nightmare. Roman can’t find himself to fall back asleep. His mind refuses to settle, refuses to let go of what Virgil said to him moments ago.

“You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

The words rumble in Roman’s mind like that of a great and fearsome thunderstorm. How could it not? All the more confirmation that regardless of the unfounded trust young Virgil placed in him, he’d still expected to inevitably be treated terribly.

And that? The guilt of that stings deeper than any sting of the blade or a bandersnatch’s ferocious bite.

It also makes him wonder what exactly the Ankle-Terror thought was going on. Kids aren’t stupid. Naïve, yes, but that’s different from being stupid. They’re creative and innovative in ways adults couldn’t dream to be. Plus, they tended to love engaging in-depth conversations about Disney.

Sometimes, Roman misses the days when Thomas was a kid. Back when they were free to run around in the backyard and reimagine the swings as a spaceship or the underneath of the trampoline as the lair of an evil sorcerer. Back when they weren’t bound by inane things such as time constraints and the logistics of translating an idea into a real-world possibility.

He could get Thomas and the others roped in a fantastical make-believe for hours. Weeks even of stretching an incredible imaginary world to its limits. The only things that ever stood in their way was the outside forces of school, parents and bedtime.

Nowadays, the reminiscing with a tinge of regret. There always had to be villains to fight, you see. An evil mad scientist. A corrupt king. A greedy dragon. The list goes on and on. He never ever played the villain. He’d always cast himself and Thomas as the heroes. Logan and Patton were the supporting stars. Virgil and the rest? The villains through and through.

Virgil at this age would be used to this treatment. Rather than in his rightful heroic role as Protector, Defender, Watcher of All Perceived Threats--he played roles such as a wicked sorcerer who cast fear and disgrace upon the entire kingdom with his heinous sorcery.

He took to the roles without much grumbling. Oftentimes, he didn’t perform to young Roman’s expectations. Roman would chastise his performances, critiquing every bit. He wasn’t ever scary or evil enough for a Side responsible for making Thomas scared of monsters under his bed.

Virgil would also veto actions such as climbing super high up a tree and using it as a crow’s nest for a pirate ship. Much to Roman’s dismay, the others would side with him. Logan because Thomas could break a bone if he should fall and Patton because their parents wouldn’t approve. Thus making Virgil a major downer at times in Roman’s eyes and all the more deserving of the villain title.

It wasn’t until Thomas was older, closer to middle school, that Virgil started lashing out. He refused to play along, slinking off to sulk in his room. His influence had also grown and suddenly it wasn’t just monsters under the bed anymore--the monsters were everywhere. Homework, Teachers, Friends, Family. Roman worked overtime to help Thomas escape to worlds unfettered by these fears.

Of course, back then, he presumed this was Virgil fully showing his true colors as an antagonist. Thomas himself believed it, wishing vehemently for Virgil to just disappear. It was Roman’s responsibility, nay his purpose, to make Thomas’s dreams and desires come true. He was the Fairy Godmother to Thomas’s Cinderella. So for years and years he’d pursued this dream, desperate to make Thomas happy, proud even.

Now, he knows better. He knows that Virgil is more than just Anxiety, just like Roman and the others are more than what their title implies. He is vigilant, he keeps Thomas safe from external threats. Sometimes he can be overzealous, but he means well. And shutting him out isn’t the answer. It never was.

With all that in mind, he wonders if the Boy Terror thinks this is one of Roman’s elaborate make-believe games. Roman could easily picture a younger him coming up with a make-believe game involving himself and the others being adults. True, Thomas back then liked envisioning himself as a kid defeating the evil dragon like kids his age did in the media he watched.

But all kids at some point wonder what it’d be like to be an adult. They imagined themselves in the most exciting professions that made a real impact on the world. Then they’d grow up and very few of them made it to such professions.

(Except Thomas of course. Roman is incredibly proud of him and his accomplishments as an Ex-Viner turned Youtuber. Yes, they are still far from achieving feats such as Hollywood or Broadway, but still! For a while Thomas had to settle for a real, sensible job such as a chemical engineer. While science interested him, it didn’t drive him the way that creative pursuits such as singing and acting had. Thomas is lucky to be able to have a platform to do what he loves. Roman tries reminding himself of this during incredibly rare moments of insecurity.)

Kid Fright must be ecstatic about this. For possibly the first time in his life Creativity is including him in a game without making him the villain. Adult Virgil doesn’t talk much about the past--the few times Roman has tried to breach the topic it’d been an instant shutdown.

But Virgil has always cared for them, even before they’d all realized this. He must’ve taken any part Roman gave him out of a desperation to be with them and keep them safe. It sickens Roman just thinking about it. He doesn’t know how Virgil stayed strong for so long. Roman doesn’t know if he could’ve lasted a day in Virgil’s place.

He is probably also terrified and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Regardless of his age, Virgil always expects the worst out of any scenario. Even now that’s been a year since he’s been accepted among the core sides that make up Thomas. He can’t help it, it’s in his nature. Roman can’t blame him for it. One year isn’t enough to undo the damages that the other twenty-nine years caused.

One thing is for certain: if he does think this is one of Roman’s make-believe games, he must think Thomas is still a kid. And Roman’s not sure if he should let Virgil know any different. In fact, it might be best to keep Virgil distracted while the others work to find the solution to this strange vexing problem. Because he knows Virgil won’t take it well to finding his host all grown-up. He thinks that none of them would in his place.

So he’ll keep Fall Out Kid safe away in the mindscape and continue being the Prince he deserved. He’ll allow Virgil to be the hero and he’ll play all the other roles. Sidekick, damsel-in-distress, villain--if he must. It’s silly, but he’s almost buzzing with excitement at all the worlds they could explore from within the common area. Cowboys, Spaceship, Space Cowboys. The possibilities are endless!

A small hand tugs at his sleeve, tugging him away from his thoughts altogether. He looks down at the inquisitive eyes slightly shrouded by a mop of dirty blond hair.

“Yes, little prince?” He says, trying to blink away the prickling sensation in his eyes.

He refuses to cry again in front of the Little Shop of Terror. He knows he will have to confront his bubbling guilt and sorrow at some point, but for now he must push it aside. He is used to this. Being a hero means sometimes remaining strong and not showing vulnerability to loved ones.

“M’hungry.” Virgil murmurs into his chest, little arms wrapped around Roman’s neck. It’s almost endearing with how much he resembles a baby possum clinging to their mother. Roman isn’t used to a Virgil so physically affectionate.

Virgil is like a feral cat. You couldn’t hug or pat him on the shoulder without warning. You had to ask and very rarely did he accept, even if it came from Patton. No, the best way is to let him initiate it. Let him lean his head against your shoulder, or his leg overlapping your own during a movie night.

You also don’t acknowledge it and by not acknowledging it, Virgil then inches his way more until it grows into a proper hug. Then he would withdraw and promptly act like nothing happened. Like you were to forget the interaction ever occured in the first place.

Logan has a theory that it’s because Virgil is the Fight-or-Flight instincts and physical affection lowers his guard in a way he isn’t completely comfortable with. Roman now has a theory that it’s a lot more heartbreaking than that.

“You’re hungry?” Roman asks, attempting to steer his mind out of Despairing Drive and into Present Place.

A small growling noise occurs and Jack Smallington ducks his head down, embarrassed.

Roman isn’t entirely surprised considering that it’s been about eight hours since they discovered approximately five-year-old Virgil in the place of grown-up Virgil. Who knows how long he’d been like that, alone in his room, before that. Virgil also rarely eats so the poor kid probably woke up hungry.

Roman feels so stupid. If it’d been Patton or Logan watching him, the first thing they would’ve made sure is if he was hungry. Because kid or not, it isn’t in Virgil’s nature to be self-advocating. That type of stuff freaks him out. Yet another reason Roman is completely unqualified to watch over Virgil.

“Okay,” Roman breaths in, smiling, “thanks for letting me know, big guy. To the kitchen at once!”

With that, he hoists Virgil up, settling him on top of his shoulders. There’s a squawk of surprise and Roman’s almost worried until it turns into a gleeful giggle. When Roman lets out a neigh, pretending he’s a horse, Virgil’s giggles grow louder.

“You’re not a horse,” Virgil says.

“Neigh I am!” Roman says, “I am your trusty steed and we’re embarking on a perilous-but-completely-safe journey to the kitchen!”

He treks towards the kitchen, clicking his tongue in an imitation of a horse clip-clopping along.

“Faster,” Virgil urges, resting his hands on top of Roman’s head.

“Faster?” Roman asks, almost stopping in surprise.

“Yeah!” Virgil insists, “We gotta get there as fast as possible before any monsters come and eat us!”

“Never fear,” Roman says, “For I shall get us there before any monster even thinks of gobbling us up!”

With that Roman quickens his pace, ensuring he had a firm hold onto Virgil to keep him falling off.

“Faster, faster, faster!” Virgil chants in an anxious yet excited tone, “I think I see one!”

“Oh?” Roman turns his head back, “Oh, I see him too! Neigh, we better hurry!”

There isn’t an actual monster there. No sharp fangs or numerous eyes glaring menacingly in their direction. He can’t tell if Virgil is making up a game or if he actually believes there is one there. Either way, Roman is Creativity. If there’s one thing he knows best, it’s how to combat imaginary foes. Such as reaching the threshold of the kitchen.

With one great bound, he makes it onto the black-and-white checkered tiles.

“Aha! Now no monsters can attack us while we feast in the dwelling of this noble kitchen!” Roman grins, setting Virgil atop the kitchen counter before jumping up to sit beside him.

Virgil beams up at him, face wide with utter delight and awe. Roman is left dumbfounded at this. Even as a kid, Virgil had been very closed-off with his emotions. So shy and distrustful of everyone and everything. But here he looks at Roman like he’s some great hero or something.

‘How,’ Roman wonders, ‘how can you look at me like this when I’m the obstinate villain of this story?’

“Princey,” Virgil swings his legs, “won’t Dad be upset if he finds us sitting on the counter?”

Roman blinks. At first he thinks Virgil is referring to Thomas’s father until he remembers Patton also goes by Dad. For the longest time, Pat had even been insistent that was his name. In the way that young children believe their parents’ real names really are Mom and Dad.

“Well,” Roman says, offering a pinky, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay.” Virgil hesitates before interlocking his tiny pinky with Roman’s.

“Excellent! Now what would you like to eat?”

“Ummmm, I--I don’t know.” Virgil bites his lips, eyes flickering around the kitchen. Roman’s heart squeezes at this. He should’ve known such an open-ended question would set his anxiety off. They’ve learned recently that it was better giving Virgil the option of clearly-defined choices rather than vague ones.

“Would you like grilled cheese or spaghetti?” He asks kindly instead.

“Grilled cheese? With applesauce?” Virgil doesn’t meet his gaze, as if afraid Roman will condemn his choices.

Roman smiles, “Your wish is my command.”

He could’ve just snapped the food into existence right then and there. A few years back, it would’ve been enough to suffice. But as much as the Sides influence Thomas, the same holds true the other way around. Thomas once saw a fanart of Patton cooking breakfast for the sides and the idea stuck.

Now Roman could still summon fully prepared meals but they weren’t super filling. Roman didn’t mind too much; contrary to popular belief (Logan) cooking could be a very creative endeavor. As Thomas’s creativity he could make up steps to dishes and still have them turn out perfect in the end. He may or may not enjoy it simply because it frustrated Logan to no end.

He hops off the kitchen counter, snapping a finger. Instantly cabinet doors magically open as the ingredients and the materials he needed floated out onto the countertop beside the stove. Okay, so he cheated a bit, but just because the others lacked a little imagination didn’t mean he couldn’t bend reality in a place where reality is inconsequential.

Roman turns to Virgil, unable to hide his smile at Virgil’s gobsmacked expression.

“Here, you can help put butter on the bread,” He tells Virgil, handing him a butter knife.

Grilled cheese sandwiches are a quick and easy meal. Before too long, Roman hands the kid a plate with a plain grilled cheese cut in halves and a cup of prepackaged apple sauce.

“Thank you,” Virgil squeaks out before digging in.

“Of course.” Roman says, resisting the urge to ruffle the Little Terror’s hair. Instead he takes a bite of his own grilled cheese. Admittedly, he went a bit overboard with his own grilled cheese sandwich; three different types of cheese with lettuce, tomato and pickles. He isn’t quite sure if he’s a fan of the pickles but ah well. So it goes when in the pursuit of creativity.

They eat on top of the kitchen counters with relative silence. Roman hums a bit between bites of grilled cheese. Halfway through, he notices Virgil sending him glances when he thinks Roman isn’t looking. The kid squirms a bit in place, his face twisting in apprehension.

“Is there something troubling you, Little Prince?” Roman asks at last.

“Princey, where are the others? A--are they okay?!”

Oh. Oh, of course. Roman’s heart aches knowing how much Virgil worries and cares for everyone, even at such a young age. He’s so quick to reassure him that he doesn’t even pause to think about the phrasing of his words.

“They’re perfectly fine, rest assured. Logan is shut away in his room reading like the insufferable nerd he is and Patton is simply checking up on our dear Thomas--”

“Thomas?” Virgil breathes in, eyes bright with alarm. His shoulders raise to his ears like hackles raising on a frightened cat.

It is at this moment Roman knew that he messed up.

“Virgil, wait--” Roman pleads, attempting to place a placating hand on his shoulder.

Roman is too late. His hand meets air as Virgil disappears in front of him with a loud crackle. All that’s left is a plate of half-eaten grilled cheese clattering to the countertops and a terror that shakes the entirety of the mindscape.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #brotherly prinixety #kat writes #*slaps roman* this bad boy can fit so much angst and regret #also this more setting up the next fic in the series than anything else #hope you still enjoy it tho

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averykedavra · 3 years

Text

i keep to myself (i want to break through)

Uh, hi! It’s been a while. Again. But I’m here to deliver content before vanishing once more! To get back in the writing groove, I brushed off an older story, one I started right after FWSA. I wrote the first few pages, dropped it for months, and now I’ve cobbled together an angsty mess from the remains. Yay! This is also my first time writing c!Thomas’ perspective, so I hope it turned out alright!

(Title is from Prom Dress by mxmtoon. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Logicality and also Thomas

Words: 9937 (i swear this was meant to be short)

Warnings: crying, a detailed description of a panic attack, overthinking and spiraling, anxiety, self-deprecation and self-esteem issues, identity crisis, maybe a bit of disassociation

Thomas should have been excited.

All afternoon, he’d been thrilled. He’d barely remembered to eat dinner. He’d composed sappy tweets and sang Can You Feel the Love Tonight? until his neighbors told him to stop. He’d smiled so much that his face hurt, flapped his hands until they ached, and danced around in dizzy disbelief.

Nico. Nico, who was a poet and who was funny and who had the nicest smile and wanted to meet up again.

Thomas was overjoyed. Thomas was ecstatic. Thomas couldn’t believe this was real, but after pinching himself five times, he’d confirmed it wasn’t a dream.

Nico.

He had a date.

Thomas should be excited.

And he was, and then very abruptly, he wasn’t.

He’d felt it approaching even before dinner. He’d sang louder to drown it out. He’d grinned almost forcibly, dragging his thoughts back on track, thinking this is a good thing until he could almost ignore the creeping numb clouds in the back of his mind.

And his happiness soured. He ran out of energy. He collapsed on the couch, turning on the Parks and Rec bloopers before a voice told him to watch something educational. He turned on a nature channel instead. Swans mated for life. Wild.

Thomas was feeling, slowly, more and more terrible.

He should do something to stop it. He should call a friend, eat some good food, focus on the positives. He could feel himself inching closer to a cliff, and there was still time to turn back, there was still time--

He got up to microwave some pizza. Maybe eating would make him feel better. He’d exercised today. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Why did he feel so weird? This had been a good day. Maybe one of his best. He’d gone to that mall directionless, and now someone wanted to date him, a lovely someone who made him feel itty bitty butterflies in his chest and sunshine in his heart.

Except for now. Now the butterflies felt soaked in ice, and the sunshine burned through him and made his eyes prickle.

The microwave hummed away and he bounced back and forth waiting for it. Just a minute until pizza, and then pizza and nature channels and a long evening, maybe video games and soda and a friend on the phone. He’d give himself a self-care night. He deserved it.

Thomas waited for the pizza.

The microwave coughed, scraped, and whirred its way along.

It was dark in the kitchen. He ran a hand along the counter. It was so cold and smooth that it felt like he was touching nothing at all. The moon hung low outside the window, accompanied by the ugly yellow glow of streetlights. He’d forgotten to turn on a light in the kitchen.

Thomas shuffled towards the light switch, decided not to bother, and grabbed a plastic plate for the pizza instead. It was one of the bad plates that could reasonably be a frisbee. A chip and dent combo on the edge nicked his fingers. He winced. Maybe he should get another plate.

Nah, why bother? This plate was fine.

The pizza should be done by now, right? It’d been five minutes. Had it?

The TV was playing in the background. Thomas had forgotten to turn it off. That’d waste electricity--why did he always forget stuff, stupid--

Thomas took a deep shuddering breath.

In and out. This was fine. No matter that he could feel tears clustering at the edge of his vision, no matter that his breath struggled in his chest like a living thing, no matter that the kitchen was dark and still and quiet and made him feel like he was drowning.

There was no reason to be upset.

He should be excited.

Ding!

Thomas almost cried in relief, throwing open the microwave. He grabbed the pizza and opened the box.

Frost clustered on the edge of the crust. It needed more time in the microwave. He’d done the wrong amount of minutes.

Of course he had.

Thomas let the pizza fall, and a swell of tears rose up to meet him. He grabbed the plate and took it back to the couch, which accomplished nothing but he needed to do something, he couldn’t wait in that stupid kitchen for a second longer--

Thomas collapsed on the couch again, and tried to make himself very small in the corner, like his impending breakdown wouldn’t notice him if he hid.

He pressed a hand to his eyes.

“Come on,” he told himself, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It wavered and was itchy and staticky, grating at his ears. “Come on, get it together, come on--”

His phone beeped.

Someone was texting him.

Oh, no. Now he had to open his eyes, get the phone, text them, be funny and nice when he texted them, help them if they needed help--too many things, and Thomas was frozen, because he’d meant to microwave the pizza, and the TV was still playing and casting shuddering light over his blanket, and the world was dark and there were too many things to do--

Panic.

He was panicking, wasn’t he?

Thomas took a deep breath. And realized he hadn’t done that for almost half a minute. The air was a relief, and he almost cried right then and there, sunk in one dark corner of the couch.

“Virgil,” he forced out. “Virgil, are you--”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t find the words. What would Virgil do, anyway? Virgil would just make this worse--that wasn’t nice--he couldn’t breathe--Virgil was clearly not okay, and--

And Thomas was going to cry, and there was no reason for that, and logically speaking he should be fine--

He was terrified.

Logically speaking, he was terrified, because logically speaking, he’d made a huge mistake.

Thomas choked on a sob. He sent out a summons--anyone, please, anyone, Logan or Patton or Virgil or De--Janus. Hell, he’d take Remus at this point, Remus could knock him out so he wouldn’t have to stay in this itchy dark room with a million things colliding and the TV still on and the pizza cold and the lights off and his phone probably blowing up with texts as everyone slowly started to hate him--

“Kiddo?”

Thomas jerked his head up and kicked wildly at the noise.

“Oh! Sorry,” Patton said, his voice soft. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can you breathe for me, kiddo?”

Thomas took one deep breath.

“That’s great! I’m proud of you. Can you do it again?”

Another deep breath.

“Good job,” Patton said, and Thomas’ vision cleared enough to see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You--” Thomas started. But he lost his sentence as soon as he found it.

“Shh, don’t try and talk just yet, okay?” Patton’s eyes were achingly sympathetic. “Can I touch you?”

Thomas thought about it. He nodded jerkily.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” Patton’s hand slipped into his, warm and soft, reminding Thomas oddly of his actual dad. “Keep breathing, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.”

A simple instruction. One thing. No other things, no other things around him and no past and no future and no friends or family or Nico. Just him. Just Patton. It was dark and still and Thomas had been told what to do.

Thomas kept breathing.

Patton smiled at him, and the snarled mass in Thomas’ chest lessened, bit by bit by bit. He tried not to think. He tried just to see, to see and hear and touch.

What was it Logan taught him?

Five things he could see.

The glow of the TV over the couch. The moon outside the pale window. The blanket over his legs. His hand in Patton’s. Patton’s face, streaked with tears and so incredibly soft.

Four things he could touch.

The couch. His blanket. His clothes. Patton’s hand.

Three things he could hear.

The murmur of the television--the channel had moved on to flamingos, apparently. The rustle of the blanket when he shifted. The hum of the fridge.

Two things he could smell.

That cold pizza. A vague smell of sweat which was probably him, thanks to all the running around from earlier.

One thing he could taste.

Dinner. Chicken pad thai.

Thomas closed his eyes, opened them, and found himself sitting on the couch, watching TV, with Patton holding his hand.

He was here.

He’d always been here.

“It’s okay,” Patton whispered, and Thomas realized he’d been talking this whole time, murmuring words of encouragement. “It’s okay, you’re doing amazing, just let it out.”

Thomas squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

Patton’s face lit up. “No biggie,” he said, “who would I be if I left you on your own?”

Reasonable, Thomas didn’t say. Normal.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “It means a lot.”

Patton gave him a long, unreadable look, before patting his hand and standing up. He looked around and clucked his tongue. “It’s so dark! Wait here, I’ll turn on the lights.”

“I can do it,” Thomas protested.

Patton didn’t roll his eyes, but he huffed a bit, and Thomas sank back into the couch with a sigh. Patton was right. Thomas’ limbs felt like jelly and if he tried to move, he’d probably fall right off the couch.

Patton milled about the room, turning on the kitchen light and the light by the stairway and the lamp behind the TV. When he saw the frozen pizza in the microwave, Thomas braced himself for a chiding. Patton was always critical of his cooking skills. Instead, Patton quietly closed the microwave and punched in several numbers. The microwave whirred to life.

Thomas looked down at the plate on the couch cushion. He picked it up and noticed his hands were shaking. “Do you--”

Patton glanced back. “I’m getting you some water, kiddo. Don’t worry, just get yourself cozy, okay?”

Thomas nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No need to thank me!” Patton sent Thomas a smile that was marred by the tear tracks on his cheek, the redness of his eyes, and--Thomas suddenly realized--the cat hoodie pulled tight around him. He couldn’t remember the last time Patton had worn the hoodie. It must have been when Logan had first given it to him. Right after--

“I’m a part of you,” Patton continued, his voice a softer version of his usual chipper one. “I want to help you, no matter what.”

Thomas leaned further into the couch and pressed on his eyes to stop the tears. Was he really so pathetic to cry over a part of himself wanting to help him? It was Patton’s job. It didn’t mean that Thomas was a good person, it didn’t mean anything, it just meant that his morality didn’t want him panicking in front of a documentary about flamingos.

“Here,” Patton said, and Thomas almost jumped. Patton had reappeared next to the couch. He handed Thomas a glass of water. Thomas tried not to drop it. When he took a sip, he realized his mouth was dry.

“You can sit down,” Thomas offered, after a few seconds of Patton silently standing nearby.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to--” The microwave dinged behind them, and Patton looked relieved. “Be back in a hop, skip, and a jump, kiddo!”

Thomas laughed a bit and continued drinking the water. Soon, Patton placed a warm plate of pizza on the couch next to Thomas. Thomas picked up a slice and caught the melting cheese with his tongue. It was perfectly cooked.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, for the third or fourth time. “This is great, Pat.”

“Aw, shucks, kiddo!” Patton looked proud of himself. “It’s just microwave pizza. And I think we know who’s the better cook--”

Thomas smiled and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, spare me the lecture.”

For a second, Patton looked ashamed. Then he brushed off his shirt and looked around the room again. “Anything else I can get you, Thomas?”

Thomas inhaled the rest of the pizza slice before responding. Patton looked uncomfortable. Not like he didn’t want to be there--or at least, Thomas hoped not--but like he didn’t know what to do, now that the threat had subsided. Patton shifted from foot to foot, pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, and had been crying. He’d been upset. He’d helped Thomas anyway. Thomas had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to let this slide. That wasn’t what good people did.

Or maybe it was. Thomas wasn’t sure. He’d ask Patton, but Patton didn’t need another thing on his plate.

Thomas balanced the plate of pizza in one hand and let his tired, impulsive brain take over. “Sit with me?”

Patton looked surprised for a second, then strangely hesitant. “That’s what you want?”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded to the couch cushion next to him. “It wouldn’t be a party without my good old pop star, would it?”

“Yeah.” Patton nodded rapidly, as if trying to convince himself, and then sat tentatively on the couch. He balanced on the edge of it. Like he wanted a quick escape.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas said weakly, doubling back, like he always did. “You--you don’t have to do any of this, if it’s just to be nice.”

Patton smiled a bit. “Just to be nice? What’s just about that?”

“You don’t--” Thomas swallowed and tried to sort through the emotions in his chest. He still felt seconds from crying. Was that Patton’s influence? Virgil’s? Or should Thomas stop blaming his own failures on everyone else? “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Pat. You don’t have to--go out of your way to help someone, not if it makes you feel bad.”

“But you aren’t someone,” Patton said. “You’re Thomas. You’re my Thomas, and I’m your good old dad.”

Thomas opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to explain that Patton wasn’t obligated to be nice to him. He didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t the priority. He didn’t need to be. He could survive with parts of himself hating him--he was pretty sure a few already did.

“I’m your Morality,” Patton said quietly. “And--I know, I know I’ve messed up, I’ve messed things up so much--but please. This is what I can still do for you. This is what I know isn’t--isn’t hurting you.” Patton paused, and Thomas could hear that he was approaching tears, too. “Please let me help you. Please let me have this.”

Thomas bit off the end of a slice of pizza. Then he shoved the plate towards Patton. Patton looked down, took a slice, and nibbled at it. For a while, there was silence.

“Was it you?” Thomas finally asked, hating himself for it. “Did you get--upset? Is that why I--or was it Virgil?”

Patton sighed. “That’s a complicated question, kiddo.”

Thomas decided not to push it. If Patton wanted to talk, he would.

“We’re all parts of you,” Patton finally said. His voice was shaky, but kind, reminding Thomas of kindergarten teachers talking him through his ABCs. His teachers were lovely to him. But Thomas was only their student, and it was only their job. “We all affect what you do, in different degrees, but we also affect each other. We discuss, we collaborate, we--argue. If you combined all of us into one being, it would be you in a way, but it wouldn’t have the same interactions inside? Does that make sense?” Patton groaned. “Ugh, Logan’s such a better teacher.”

“I think I get it,” Thomas said, looking down at the pizza. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts?”

“Yeah!” Patton nodded. “We all work off each other, even when we don’t realize it. So--anything you go through, it’s not because of one of us. Maybe it started from a single side, but nothing’s isolated. Everything goes through all of us.”

“So...you all got upset?” Thomas asked. “Or was it mainly someone, or--”

“It’s complicated.” Patton swallowed. “Janus didn’t have a hand in it, I don’t think, despite all the ones he has. Roman is very excited about Nico, as is Remus, and I doubt they contributed too much.”

Thomas thought about Roman’s face as he watched Nico leave. Another chance at happiness squandered. “I’m not sure about that.”

Patton sunk into himself a bit. “Virgil--he probably added to the attack when it happened, but he didn’t cause it. He’s too happy about Nico.”

“So…” Thomas let the word hang in the air for a while. “Pat--”

“I’m fine,” Patton said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“I am!” Patton protested. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. He didn’t seem to be even trying to hide it. “It--it wasn’t just me, it was--”

“You’re my emotions,” Thomas said. “If it wasn’t Virgil, it--”

“It’s more complicated than that.” True as that might be, Patton’s thin voice said otherwise. “I wouldn’t have done that. Everything’s fine. I know everything’s fine. I wouldn’t have made a fuss over nothing!”

Thomas tried to read between the lines. It was easy. Patton, in the end, was just a piece of Thomas--just a volatile, searing mass of emotions in his chest. “But if someone told you things weren’t fine--”

Patton didn’t say anything.

“Or someone…” Thomas swallowed. “Someone tried to convince you that things were.”

“Like I said,” Patton whispered. “It’s complicated.”

Thomas tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could barely make it out in the darkness, save for the small pools of light from the lamps around the room. Was that a crack? Maybe so. He didn’t really know anything about ceilings, so he’d have to ask someone else.

“What do we want to do?” Thomas asked the ceiling, and Patton, and everyone else who had decided this was a mess they didn’t want to touch.

“I don’t know,” Patton said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas tried to think of what they should do. “I’m asking you. What should we be doing?”

“That’s a different question,” Patton pointed out. “And you really shouldn’t ask me for advice.”

Thomas covered his eyes with his hand. “I just want to know what to do next, Patton!”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Patton asked bracingly. “Relax. Watch TV. Get some sleep. You had a rough night, kiddo.”

“So did you!” Thomas snapped. “Why is everything always about me?”

A few beats of silence, just enough for Thomas to decide he was a terrible person and should dig a hole to hide in. Patton shifted, and Thomas saw he was running his hands across the hoodie again. Did it make him feel better to wear it? Did it remind him of Logan?

“Janus says it’s okay for stuff to be about you,” Patton said, sounding woefully unconvincing. “He says it’s fine for you to focus on yourself.”

“Janus also said you didn’t exist,” Thomas fired back. “He’s not my go-to person for trustworthy advice.”

The moment the words left his lips, Thomas regretted them.

“Janus is trying,” Patton said, a bit more convincingly. “And you shouldn’t--”

“I know!” Thomas tried to hold back his tears again. “I know I shouldn’t. There’s a million things I shouldn’t do, not least that I shouldn’t be upset right now.”

Patton sucked in a breath. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Don’t you hate lying?”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, and he sounded so much like a kicked puppy that Thomas somehow managed to feel even worse. “It--it is, Janus says so, and Virgil, and Lo-Logan--”

“And they’re right,” said Thomas wearily. “They’re right.”

“But you said--”

“Don’t listen to me,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Patton was quiet again. Thomas wondered what it would take to get Patton to leave. He could probably ask and Patton would go. He could just ask. Patton never argued.

Thomas didn’t want Patton to leave. But he didn’t want to pretend that things were alright. And he didn’t want to make Patton feel bad, he didn’t want to feel bad--he knew a million things he didn’t want, a million things he shouldn’t want, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he did.

“We should talk about it,” Thomas said. “About what happened tonight, and--about everything, you know?”

“We should,” Patton agreed. He sounded miserable but resigned. “We can’t put it off.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Thomas made up for his lack of confidence with a confident wave of his pizza slice. “We need to talk this out. We don’t want it happening again.”

Patton nodded.

“So...what happened?”

Patton immediately stopped nodding.

“You said someone upset you,” Thomas continued. “Well, you didn’t say, but...someone did, right?”

“He didn’t mean to.” Patton’s voice was almost desperate. “He tried to help--and he’s right, there wasn’t any reason to be upset, I just overreacted--”

“Who?” Thomas asked.

Patton worried his lip between his teeth and said nothing.

Thomas looked at the TV, playing the nature channel, because he wanted to calm himself down, because it didn’t make sense to be upset.

“Oh.” Thomas almost winced. “Logan said something, didn’t he?”

Patton’s silence said enough.

“Of course,” Thomas said, trying to sound less bitter than he felt. “Of course he said something.”

“He can’t help it,” Patton said weakly. “He doesn’t get this stuff. Not really.”

“He does more than he lets himself.”

“He doesn’t want to get this stuff.” Patton sighed. “And like I said, he didn’t mean it, and he did try to calm me down--”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “By saying you shouldn’t even be upset?”

“I think he might have panicked a bit.” Patton giggled sheepishly. “I was crying and he didn’t really expect that.”

“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t even feel surprised. Logan was the smartest dude he knew, but he could be really stupid sometimes. “Have you talked it through with him?”

“No.” Patton poked at the remaining slices of pizza but didn’t pick one up. “I got really upset, and maybe I’d been upset for a while, and this was just what set it off, I guess? And then he got upset but he wouldn’t admit it, and then I felt you start panicking, so I had to go help you.”

Thomas frowned. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I wanted to.”

Thomas let out a long breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk it through later,” Patton said. “Sometimes the kiddos need time.”

Thomas opened his mouth to snap about the amount of time they spent just waiting for someone to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and the words that came out weren’t what he expected. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton blinked. “I--no, I don’t think so. He’s…”

Thomas motioned for Patton to continue.

“He was a bit annoyed when he found out about Nico,” Patton finished, seeming almost apologetic. Like Patton had a responsibility to keep anyone else from being upset. “I don’t think he really liked the idea of a--boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“He’ll come around,” Patton quickly added. “He just needs time to adjust.”

“You keep saying that.” Thomas curled further into the couch and picked at a pizza crust. “If giving you all more time means this is going to keep happening, I’m not really sold.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quietly. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not what I--” Thomas groaned and tossed the crust onto the plate. “This is a huge mess, and honestly, I can’t see how this could possibly get worse. I feel like crap. A whole stick of crap, inside and out. And if finding out Logan’s deal will make me feel a bit less like crying, I’d rather get that over with.”

Patton watched him closely. The TV lights flashed off his glasses. “That makes sense. But I’m not sure if he wants that, kiddo.”

“Who cares what Logan wants?” Thomas was probably being a bit uncharitable, but he was too tired and emotional to care. “You said it yourself, he’s a part of me, he’s supposed to help. I’m not gonna have my logic griping about Nico all night, okay? I’m already stressed enough.”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of the reason you’re stressed,” Patton argued, “which I just realized proves your point. Okay. If he wants, he can talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Finally, a side that actually listened to Thomas occasionally. “Logan?”

The house was silent.

“He might be asleep,” Patton said. “He’s very rigid in his sleep schedule.”

“Is that why I don’t have coherent thoughts past ten pm?”

Patton nodded. “Also, sleep deprivation.”

“It’s not that bad, I’m not up that late.” Thomas sighed. “Logan? Logan, are you gonna come out and talk, or will we just sit on the couch all night with no closure?”

“You don’t have to,” Patton added unhelpfully. Thomas glared at him. “What? He doesn’t!”

“Fine, fine, he doesn’t have to,” Thomas complained. “He can feel free to make you and me upset and then leave us hanging, without an explanation of why he doesn’t like Nico--I mean, how could anyone not like Nico?”

“I don’t think it’s about Nico specifically,” Patton said, as if that was supposed to explain things. “And if he’s not going to talk, we can’t push him.”

Thomas groaned and looked for a blanket to hide in. What was the point of having imaginary aspects of his personality, if he couldn’t actually talk to them when he wanted to? What was the problem--there was no logical reason to be upset, but Logan had made Patton upset, it didn’t make any sense--

“Logan?” Thomas called once more, feeling stupid to be yelling at an empty living room. “We could really use you, buddy.”

When there was no answer, Thomas sighed and sank back into the couch. He glanced over at Patton, who was pointedly watching the TV instead of Thomas--the nature channel was now talking about parakeets--and then the shadows seemed to shift at the other end of the couch.

“Um,” Thomas said, unable to see what exactly had happened.

Patton looked where Thomas was looking, made a soft oh noise, and turned on another light.

“What do you want?” Logan asked.

With the addition of the light, Thomas could vaguely make him out, but he was even more shadowy than Patton. His knees were tucked to his chest and a blanket covered him. He looked like he’d fallen asleep on the couch, just gotten shaken awake, and was irritated about it. His hair was mussed in the back.

“We wanted to talk,” Thomas said, when it became clear that Patton was just going to sit awkwardly between them and not say anything.

“About what?” Logan’s voice was quiet and a bit rough. Maybe from sleep, maybe from yelling, maybe from crying. “Be more specific, Thomas.”

“Logan,” Patton said, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

Patton didn’t respond. Thomas was already regretting this. Should they really try to talk things out while tired, grumpy, and piled on the couch watching nature documentaries?

“It wasn’t my fault what happened,” Logan said defensively, as if Thomas had interrogated him. “I simply pointed out logical facts, I don’t control anyone’s emotional reaction--”

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, if it was already going this far south. “Hey,” Thomas said before Logan could dig that hole deeper. “Calm down. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Logan asked.

Thomas blinked at the question. “Uh--do you want to?”

Logan made a noncommittal noise.

“Well, if you don’t have anything against it, I think you probably should.” Thomas motioned to Patton, who squeaked at being included. “You made him really upset, and I know you didn’t mean to, but that warrants an apology.”

“Hm.” Logan adjusted his glasses and sighed. “As you say. Patton, I--I said something that I didn’t realize was upsetting. Because it was a fact that you should be considering, but I am still responsible for my actions alone. So...I apologize.”

“Aw, Lo, I forgive you!” Patton seemed to brighten right away. “It’s okay, really! I know you didn’t mean it!”

“What did he say?” Thomas asked. “What’d you say, Logan?”

They both went very quiet.

“C’mon, do I have to try random bits of my internal monologue to see what it was?” Thomas sighed. “Look, whatever it was, I want to see what I can do to help you out. If you’re upset--”

“I’m not upset--”

“I want to help.” Thomas looked across the couch to Logan. “Let me help, okay?”

Logan sighed in annoyance and defeat.

“You don’t like Nico,” Thomas prompted, as Patton hopped up and went to the kitchen. Thomas didn’t know what Patton was supposed to be doing, since he was just opening and closing the fridge, but he decided to let the guy have his escape route. “Why don’t you like Nico?”

“I don’t like anyone,” Logan said. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

“So you don’t like Nico?”

“I don’t have an opinion on him.”

“Clearly you do,” Thomas said, biting back his defense of Nico. He could argue about how amazing and incredible Nico was, or he could get to the bottom of this without panicking again. “I just want to hear what you have to say, Logan.”

Logan blinked. Thomas wondered, briefly and guiltily, when he’d last said that.

“Nico is fine,” Logan said firmly. “He’s--fine.”

“I figured you’d like him,” Thomas said. He didn’t know what he was trying to do--convince Logan? Convince himself? “He’s--he’s a poet. You like poetry, right?”

There was a long pause. “Poetry is an effective way to convey ideas through a rhythmic and minimal structure.”

Thomas didn’t know how to take that. “Nico’s a good poet.”

Logan let out a breath and curled into his blanket. When Thomas looked closely, he thought he saw purple on it. Had it been a gift from Virgil? Why did that make him feel so crappy?

“You like Nico,” Logan said. He somehow managed to phrase it as a question.

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“You’ve known him for a day.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like him!” Thomas said. “Love at first sight, Logan. Believe in it.”

Logan stared at him with disappointment. “No.”

“Fine, not love.” Thomas slumped. “But he’s so cute! And sweet! And smart, and funny, and--”

“I know.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Ugh.”

“I get it, you’re heartless, you don’t believe in love.” Thomas sighed. “I--I just thought you could be--happy for me?”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it. Behind them, Patton bustled around, and Thomas longed for him to return. He couldn’t do this on his own. He couldn’t handle this kind of emotional stuff, which made him sound like Logan.

“I am happy for you,” Logan said quietly. “Er--figuratively. I don’t have feelings. Still...I am--pleased. That you have found someone you feel compatible with. Human connection is important for people.”

Thomas smiled a bit, despite himself.

“And,” Logan added very quickly, “it’s doubtful that the relationship will last so it’s really pointless to object to such a quick fling--”

Patton made a wounded noise from the kitchen. Logan immediately stopped talking.

“Pointless?” Thomas repeated.

Logan pointedly began staring at the floor.

Thomas couldn’t keep the hurt from slipping into his voice. “Is that really what you think?”

“I--” Logan swallowed. “I don’t mean any harm by it, but--”

“Just--” Thomas braced himself. “Say what’s on your mind.”

Logan was silent for several moments. Thomas didn’t say anything. He shoved his hurt feelings as far down as he could, because this wasn’t about him right now. Logan was upset.

And--if Logan was upset about Nico, if Logic didn’t approve--

Thomas didn’t really want to think about that.

“It’s an outdated statistic,” Logan said, “that half of all marriages end in divorce.” He spoke slowly, quietly, way too quietly, and Thomas knew that he’d been the one to lessen Logan’s voice. Spare you my company. “However, the odds remain that relationships you pursue are--unlikely to come to fruition. Either you talk until marriage and/or copulation, living the rest of your lives together, or you separate.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s pointless,” Thomas said. “What, is life pointless because we die in the end?”

Logan paused for a second. “I don’t think so. Unless--”

“No, no, no existential crises tonight, I’m already having a breakdown.” Thomas waved his hands. “We’re gonna assume that my life does have value, okay? And we’re gonna assume that even if Nico and I--break up, which is unlikely--”

“Unlikely,” Logan repeated.

“It is unlikely,” Thomas said, deciding to dig his hole deeper. “He’s so cute!”

“You’re in the infatuation phase,” Logan said, almost pityingly. “You can’t possibly predict anything right now--”

“We get along,” Thomas said. “We barely argued! We have similar interests, he loves Paramore and Disney movies and cartoons--he thinks it’s cool that I sing, and he’s supportive of my career, and--”

“You’ve known him for one day.”

“He’s perfect!” Thomas paused. “Not--not perfect, he can’t be perfect, but he’s--really close! He doesn’t have any flaws, not that I know of.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Logan sighed. “Thomas, I understand that you are filled with emotions about this subject, but as your Logic it’s my duty to rain a bit on your figurative parade. You don’t know this man. You have met him only once, and you know him on nothing more than a superficial level.”

“He’s not a murderer!” Thomas said. “I can tell when someone’s a good person--”

“One, can you?” Logan asked. “Your judgments on morality are often--”

“Flawed,” Patton agreed from the kitchen. Both of them turned to look at him. “I’m not the best at this, kiddo. Nico seems like a good guy, but--” He leaned onto the counter. “I just don’t know.”

Thomas swallowed. He hadn’t expected Patton to take Logan’s side. “Virgil would--”

“Virgil is infatuated, just like you are.” Logan sighed. “I’m not saying Nico is secretly evil. I’m saying you might not be as compatible as you feel you are.”

“We--” Thomas could think of a million answers. But--did he trust himself to know? Did he trust himself to be in the right?

“What if he’s still working through a breakup, and you’re a rebound?” Logan suggested. “What if he doesn’t have a stable career, and has to rely on you? What if you have different financial priorities, or priorities for intimacy? What if you need to change your own career in order to be with him? What if your love languages don’t intersect, or one of you cheats--”

“I wouldn’t cheat!” Thomas protested.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Logan argued back without missing a beat. “You’re two adults. You have a million small, intricate parts of yourself and your life that you’ll need to fit together. It’s impossible for every aspect of your relationship to be perfect, and it’s unreasonable to expect that a man you met one day ago will be the man of your dreams.”

“We’ll communicate!” Thomas said. “We’ll--I want this, Logan. Are you telling me I can’t try?”

“I’m saying you need to consider every option, before you barrel into a situation you can’t control.” Logan spread his hands. “What if he hurts you? What if you hurt him? What if you aren’t ready for this, and by dragging him into a relationship, you’re only making the situation worse?”

Thomas tried to laugh and ignore the sting in his eyes. “Isn’t it Virgil’s job to overthink?”

Logan leaned back into the couch again. “I’m not trying to overthink. I’m trying to raise logical points.”

“Are you?” Thomas asked. “Dude, like you said, it’s been a day. I can’t control all these things that will happen in the future! I don’t need to worry about whether we’ll move in together, right?”

“Right,” Logan said reluctantly.

“Is...that what you said to Patton?” Thomas murmured. “Did you tell him--”

“That it wouldn’t work out.” Patton’s voice wavered. He was staring out the kitchen window into the dark backyard. “That we needed to--think this through. And, maybe...not go on the date.”

“Not--” Thomas looked between Patton, whose knuckles were white on the counter, to Logan, who looked ashamed. “Not go on the date?”

“If we go on the date, we’re agreeing to try this.” Logan sounded like he regretted each word that came out of his mouth. “If we go on the date, this is confirmed. He’s our boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Thomas couldn’t help the way anxiety pitched his voice. “That’s the point?”

“Are we ready for that?”

Both Logan and Patton had spoken at once. Thomas felt like he’d been punched.

“You...you don’t think I’m ready,” Thomas said dully. “Do you.”

“I want to.” That was Patton, finally joining them again, sitting next to the TV and pulling his knees to his chest. “I really want to, kiddo. Nico is so nice, and sweet, and good--”

Something sour rose in Thomas’ mouth. “And--”

“And Logan has a point.” Patton rubbed circles into his pajama pants. “I’m not sure if we are ready for this.”

Thomas sighed and curled into his own little ball on the other end of the couch. Look at him, nearly crying with several aspects of his personality, way too late at night, as the TV told him about chameleons. Chameleons could disappear into trees with a change of their colors. Thomas wished he could do the same into the couch. Or on his date with Nico--he could change into exactly who the relationship would need him to be.

That was what relationships were about, right? Compromise?

Maybe people who cried over chameleons really weren’t relationship material.

“Why weren’t you there at the mall?” Thomas asked Patton, after a few minutes of silence. “I’d have figured that you’d want to help, being the heart and all.”

“Roman...seemed like he needed some time,” Patton said. “Without me.”

Thomas nodded.

“And, well, I was there, in a way! The whole time!” Patton shrugged. “You spoke from the heart, right? That was me!”

Thomas paused. “‘I don’t know when I’m going to know what I want again?’”

Patton looked down. “That was me.”

“I know what I want.” Thomas wondered if he could convince himself by saying it. That sounded like lying. But lying was good now, right? Or not? Maybe? Maybe he could summon Janus if he lied enough, and Janus could handle all of this. “I want to give Nico a try.”

“Roman does,” Logan said. “And Virgil does. And I don’t, and I don’t think Janus has an opinion--”

“He’s neutral,” Patton agreed. “And I’m--in the middle.”

“So only half of me wants to give Nico a try,” Thomas said. “Wonderful. It’d be really cool if, one day, my entire self decided to agree on something.”

Logan made an affirmative noise. Patton sighed.

“We didn’t have this much of a debate with my last boyfriend, did we?” Thomas blurted out. “We just went for it. And that turned out--”

“How did it turn out?” Logan asked, with a touch of something in his voice. Maybe it was anger. What was Logan angry about? “Tell me how it turned out.”

Thomas opened his mouth and the words stuck in his throat.

“We broke up,” Patton whispered, pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. He looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor, but Thomas didn’t know how to invite him back to the sofa without forcing him into it. “We broke up with him, and it hurt.”

Thomas gave Patton a soft look. Patton didn’t seem to notice.

“It hurt, and it sucked,” Patton continued, the words coming faster and faster. “It was no fun. And I have all these good memories of him, of course I do, but--but it’s not the same, if they’re all tainted by the fact that he left. Was that--was that worth it? Good memories and a bad ending?”

The TV hummed. Logan mouthed along to the narration. An elephant was getting separated from its herd. It tried to follow the footprints of its mother, but it was going in the wrong direction, heading farther and farther into the desert.

“We don’t know that it’ll go the same way,” Thomas said weakly. “This is all speculation.”

“Fine, then, I’ll work from real data.” Logan gave Patton a look, but Patton didn’t stop him. “Thomas, you have just learned that you possess “dark sides” of your personality, that you don’t understand yourself and are doubtful of your career path, and that you’re not as much of a “good person” as you think you are. You suffer from anxiety and self-esteem issues, you have a tendency to catastrophize, and you have intrusive thoughts.”

Thomas raised a hand to object. Logan waved his hand back down.

“None of this means you are incapable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship,” Logan continued. “It certainly doesn’t mean you are ‘unlovable.’ However, it’s important to note that you are not in a good mental state right now. A relationship doesn’t fix that. Instead, it can lead to more issues.”

“My mental state is fine,” Thomas said. He didn’t even know why he bothered to say that.

Logan waved a hand at the living room, and the half-eaten pizza on the couch, and Patton sitting next to the TV as a voice droned on about wolf packs.

“It’s a trash bin,” Patton murmured. “And the waste keeps piling and piling up, until it inevitably--spills out into the rest of their life.” He looked up, his eyes sparkling with tears. “If--when that happens--do we want Nico to be a part of our life? Do we want to--”

“Ruin things for him,” Thomas finished. He felt resigned, worn out. Like this was the only way the conversation could have ended. “Because he’s--he’s so nice, and sweet, and--and good. And I’m...not.”

Patton muffled a sob.

“And I thought, maybe, he could turn things around.” Thomas rubbed at his arm. “I thought this could be the moment I got my life back on track. But--what if the train’s still barrelling down on us? Do I want to sacrifice his happiness for mine? Is that fair to him?”

Logan glanced between Thomas and Patton.

“Does he deserve me?” Thomas almost whispered. “Do I deserve him?”

The TV switched to an episode about seahorses. Abruptly, Logan grabbed the remote and turned it off. The sudden silence made Thomas itch. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and tried to take deep breaths, tried not to panic. Was he panicking? He couldn’t tell. He felt crappy, he felt unmoored, he felt like he was asleep and wide awake and floating somewhere outside his body. He was just another Side of himself, another small voice in his head, not a real person at all. Maybe he should go to bed. He’d see things clearly when he woke up.

Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he could barely remember how things were supposed to feel. He was wrong a lot. He was always wrong. How did he know what was right? How could he count on a single thing? He didn’t even know what he wanted. He didn’t even know who he was.

He couldn’t keep himself safe. He couldn’t follow his dreams. He couldn’t do the right thing. He couldn’t lie.

And he didn’t know anything.

And he was about to throw himself into a situation where he knew even less.

Was that the right thing to do?

Was that really what he wanted?

“Thomas,” Logan said. “You’re spiraling.”

“You’re the one making me spiral!” Thomas blurted out. When he looked at Logan, his vision was blurry. “We’re all spiraling, so stop pretending you’re above us! Stop giving us your oh-so-logical criticism and getting annoyed when it makes people upset!”

Logan huffed. “Well, why am I here if you don’t want to listen to me?”

“Stop!” Patton yelled. “Stop, both of you! Stop talking! If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!”

Logan folded his arms. Thomas pressed his eyes shut until he could see sparks behind them. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

Ask for--help? Ask for help. He wasn’t good at this.

“What…” Thomas’ voice trailed off. He steeled himself and tried again. “What do I do?”

“Right now?” Logan asked. “Or--”

“With--Nico.” Thomas let the words hang in the air. “What do I do now?”

Patton shifted next to the TV. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m asking you guys!” Thomas opened his eyes and looked around frantically. “I’m asking for you guys to help!”

“We’re parts of you.” Logan still blended into the couch. He didn’t move much, Thomas realized, when he didn’t want to. Did he breathe? Did he need to breathe before he talked, or did he just start talking abruptly, without the need to pause? “We don’t have any answers that you don’t have.”

“And--” Patton worried his bottom lip. “Thomas, you’re the best of us. You’re all of us together. You have the final say on anything, and you always will.”

“But I don’t know what to do!” Thomas burst out. “I don’t know what to say! I don’t--I have to drag you into every little dilemma because I don’t know how to figure things out on my own! And it’s stupid, and it’s selfish, and I can’t rely on you to solve all my problems, but--but I know you guys. I know who you are. What you want. I...I don’t know myself, guys, I really don’t.”

Logan made a sudden movement, and Thomas deliriously thought Logan was trying to reach for his hand. As quick as he started, though, Logan froze again, and pulled himself further away.

“I don’t know what I want,” Thomas said, the darkness spinning around him. “I don’t know who I want to be. I don’t know what’s good or what’s bad or what’s not--and I’ve got a cute boy who wants to take me out on a date, and I’m sitting here crying because--because--because I’m scared.”

Patton sucked in a breath.

“I’m scared,” Thomas realized. “I’m scared, aren’t I?”

“Elaborate upon those feelings,” Logan encouraged. “Why are you scared?”

“I--I’m scared--” Thomas stared at his hands. He’d shaken hands with Nico, and he’d wished he didn’t have to let go. “I’m scared of change. That’s always it, you know?” He laughed a bit. “I’m scared of--new possibilities. I know I have to take risks to dream big, but sometimes the risks seem outweigh the rewards. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid luxuries. Sometimes it’s--scary, to confront something I don’t know.”

Logan tugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I’m excited,” Thomas said. “I should be excited, but I’m terrified, because there are so many chances for me to mess this up. I’ve already got so much on my plate. Do I really want to drag someone else into this? Do I really want to--watch him walk away?”

Patton looked up.

“Yeah, maybe I’m not as selfless as I thought.” Thomas laughed again. It sounded more like a sob. “Maybe I just don’t want to get something and lose it again. Maybe I’m tired of wanting things, if I never get what I want.”

“You’re allowed to want things,” Patton said softly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No,” Patton admitted. “But I want to believe it. I really, really do.”

“And that’s the first step,” Logan said. “Isn’t it? Patton thinking that Thomas should be more selfless doesn’t erase the fact that he chose to say otherwise. Thoughts don’t equal actions. You can feel doubts about this, but that doesn’t have to affect the way you proceed.”

“Doesn’t it?” Thomas waved a hand at the ceiling. “It feels like I’m just strung along by my thoughts willy-nilly. You guys argue, and I get shoved around the food court and into the trash can.”

“Barring that--unorthodox example, I see your point.” Logan adjusted his glasses. The chance to explain something seemed to cheer him up a bit. “It is hard to separate thoughts from actions. However, it can be done. Think of it this way. When we convene to help you with an issue, we represent your thoughts. We give you different opinions based on our own goals, perspectives, and priorities.”

“And it’s loud,” Thomas said.

“And it’s loud,” Logan agreed. “It’s also a process. You listen to your thoughts, debate with them, and come to a conclusion. Yes, you can be influenced heavily by your thoughts, but the one who controls your actions is you.”

“That’s what makes you special,” Patton said, sounding like he was finally understanding. “We’re imaginary. We can’t affect the real world. But you can.”

“You make your own choices,” Logan said. “That’s what makes you your own person.”

Thomas swallowed. “Motivational speech, huh? What happened to ‘Nico is a terrible idea’?”

Logan winced. “I...still do think that, unfortunately.”

“Logan,” Patton said in a warning tone.

“But! But.” Logan sighed. “What you said about not knowing--about fearing the unknown--a lot of that is me.”

Thomas’ eyes widened.

“I’m the part of you that doesn’t want to take risks. I’m the part of you that wants to--to play it safe, because we only get one life.” Logan waved a hand. “If Virgil is the alarm clock that keeps you on your toes, I’m the person who sets the alarm clock. That means I don’t always understand the risks that you take, or the things that you do, and sometimes that’s...isolating. It feels--it seems like I’m unable to connect with you.”

“You do alright, Logan.” Thomas shook his head. “Better than alright. You keep my head on my shoulders, and I can always count on you. You’re better at this than you think.”

“I hope so,” Logan said.

“I know so.” Patton’s voice was firm. “You’re a great kiddo. You always make me feel better--well, not always, but you’re trying! You’re working on it!”

“Thank you,” Logan said, and sounded like he meant it. Patton smiled back.

“So what are you saying?” Thomas prompted.

“That...this is an area that I do not understand.” Logan twisted his fingers together. “Perhaps I felt--powerless, when you began to put such stock in your emotions. I could not help but focus on the negatives of the situation, in order to figuratively shove logic back into the conversation. But--there are conversations I’m not meant to be a part of.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Thomas said. “You just said you focused on the negatives--and you did raise some good points, ones I’m gonna have to think about! But if you focus on the positives, well, you could still contribute some interesting things. Right?”

Logan’s gaze flickered over to Thomas. Thomas gave him a smile.

“You are thirty-one years old,” Logan said. “The average lifespan of a male in the United States is about seventy-five years.”

“Great, way to give me a mid-life crisis,” Thomas teased.

“I’m attempting to say that you have time.” Logan spread his hands. “You have been away from college for less than ten years. Your personal identity is still changing, and there is still time for it to change.”

Was there?

“Yes,” Logan argued, looking more and more determined. “You don’t know everything this instant. However, nobody else does, either. What would be the point of scientific discovery if everyone knew the answers before they asked the questions? Life is about evolution. You have time to learn more about yourself.”

“But I’ve wasted so much time!” Thomas protested, and he almost felt like Logan, like Thomas was echoing everything Logan had ever told him. “I need to figure some stuff out, I can’t just stumble blindly through my life--”

“Except you haven’t,” Logan said. “What have you done with your life? You graduated college with a degree. You wanted to be a comedian, an internet personality, and you managed that. You wanted to be an actor, and you managed that. You’ve written a musical, you’ve befriended many talented people, you’ve discovered that you’re gay. I would hardly call that ‘stumbling blindly.’ You’re simply doing your best with the resources provided to you.”

Thomas let out a breath. “And your point is?”

“My point is that you don’t have much to lose,” Logan said. “This seems like an immediate dilemma in the moment. However, you don’t need to think through every possible option.” Logan squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you should do. Neither do you. That’s--okay.”

Thomas found himself beginning to smile.

“That is okay, right?” Logan immediately looked at Patton. “I’m not completely off the mark, am I?”

“You did good,” Patton said.

Logan let out a breath.

“And you’re right.” Patton laughed. “Again! You’re right, again.” His face fell. “I--I don’t know what I want right now. But there’s time to figure that out. It’s not the end of anything, and you have a lot of choices to make. A lot of...chances.”

“A lot of choices,” Thomas echoed. “I guess it was kind of silly to think of it as ‘break up immediately or stay together forever.’ I’ve only known Nico for a day!”

Logan nodded. “In the future, you can make whatever choice works for you.”

“And we’ll be with you, kiddo.” Patton smiled. “Every step of the way.”

Thomas let out a long breath and the darkness settled around him. He was in his living room. He knew this house like the back of his hand. He was fine, he was safe, and it would be morning eventually.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, guys. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan said. “It’s our job.”

“And our pleasure,” Patton corrected. “We’re happy to help.”

“I am not happy.” Logan paused and reluctantly inclined his head. “Still, Patton is correct. I--find it enjoyable when I can assist.”

“You both did great.” Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up with all this, I really shouldn’t have overthought it as much as I did.”

“We caused the overthinking,” Logan pointed out.

“We did,” Patton admitted. He shifted a bit and looked up, wiping his eyes. “I--I’m scared too, Thomas. I don’t want to...end up heartbroken again.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“But I think it might be worth it.” Patton balled his hands. “Those memories might hurt to look back on now, but they were nice while they happened, and they made us feel happy! The bad parts don’t necessarily erase the good parts. Nico is a good thing. A relationship with Nico, however it ends up, could be a good thing. You’re allowed--” Patton swallowed. “You’re allowed to want to be happy.”

Thomas fought back tears. “And--if it doesn’t work out?”

“We’ll live,” Patton said simply. “We did before, and we will again.”

“Okay.” Thomas’ voice came out like a croak, and he covered his face. “Okay, fine, just--just give me a second. Turns out I really needed to hear that.”

A warm hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. Thomas peeked between his hands to see Logan awkwardly patting his shoulder. Thomas gave him a watery smile.

“We can do this,” Patton said, sounding close to crying himself. “We’re allowed to want. It--it was never that we didn’t know, it was that we didn’t let ourselves, wasn’t it?”

“I want so much,” Thomas forced out. “I want to go on a date with Nico, I want my Sides to get along, I want to be famous and I want to be good and I want to know what I’m doing and I want--”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, barely above a whisper. “Breathe.”

Thomas breathed. In and out. In and out. He knew he could breathe. He had lungs and a heart and blood pumping through his veins and tears on his eyelashes. He knew that. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew pieces of himself, he knew his logic and his feelings and his dreams. He knew where he was and where he’d been. And he could figure things out from there.

“It’s okay,” Logan said again. “You will be okay.”

He would be okay.

No matter what, they would find a way to be okay.

Thomas wiped his eyes, uncurled his legs, and motioned for Patton to join them on the couch. Patton stood up and slipped between Logan and Thomas, making Logan’s arm fall around Patton’s shoulders. Logan started, but he didn’t remove it, and he let Patton lean into his side.

“Gosh, this was a mess, huh?” Patton giggled and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes again. “It’s already so late in the evening and I’m still such a mess of feelings.”

“We could all use a decompression activity,” Logan said. “May I…”

Thomas smiled. “Sure, buddy, go ahead and watch the nature documentaries.”

“Yes!” Logan looked triumphant. He turned on the TV and found one about birds. “Does this work?”

“Sure,” Thomas said. He paused. “So...what do we do?”

“Tonight?” Logan asked. “Watch TV, relax, and go to sleep.”

“And...tomorrow?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Patton said, punctuated by a yawn. “We’re still in today.”

Thomas smiled a bit. “Focus on tonight, huh?”

“Focus on the choices you can make right now.” Logan watched the TV begin to pan over a rainforest. “Sometimes you’re allowed to ignore your thoughts for a while.”

“Sometimes I’m allowed not to know things yet.” Thomas thought about it. “Thanks, Logan. Patton. I know this--can’t be easy for you guys.”

“It’s not,” Patton admitted. “But we’re working to be good people, right?”

“You’re working to be better,” Thomas corrected. “And you’re both doing amazing.”

Patton smiled. Logan hummed and pulled his blanket across Patton’s legs.

“Tonight we relax,” Thomas said, and smiled. “Yeah. I can work with that. I know we’ll figure stuff out soon.”

“You do?” Patton asked sleepily.

“I’ve got you guys in my corner, how could I not?”

Logan flushed before adjusting his glasses. “Likewise, we have you. As we are parts of you, you’re in your own corner.”

“Confusing,” Thomas remarked. “Let me guess--”

“It’s complicated,” Logan and Patton said.

“Thought so.”

But maybe he didn’t need to understand it. Maybe he didn’t need to know everything. He knew that Logan and Patton, and Roman, and Virgil--and Janus--were on his side. He knew they cared about him. He knew they’d help him be okay.

Maybe that could be all he needed. Maybe he just needed to trust in every part of himself.

Thomas looked down at his chest. Patton had slung an arm across it and was already half-asleep. Logan was intently watching the nature documentary. Somewhere in his head, Virgil and Roman were probably celebrating, or sleeping, if they were smart. Somewhere else, maybe Janus was smiling.

Thomas trusted every piece of himself that he knew.

Maybe he could learn to trust himself, too.

After all, he had enough time to make a million choices.

“Goodnight,” Thomas said as Patton began to snore. Logan murmured a response. “I--I love you guys, okay?”

“Love you too, kiddo,” Patton mumbled.

“I--” Logan breathed out. “I--hold you in the highest regard.”

“Love you too, nerd.” Thomas smiled. “You’re the best.”

He knew that he loved them. He loved every part of himself. And maybe, one day, he could get around to loving himself, too.

He knew that he wanted to. He knew that he wanted. He knew that he had the best possible backup, and a very cute possible boyfriend, and that he could get what he wanted, if he tried.

It was okay. It was fine. Things would figure themselves out.

Right now, Thomas was exactly where he needed to be.

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#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #platonic logicality #sanders sides fanfiction #back at it again with the lowercase parentheses titles #also i am rly sorry that i haven't written much #finals are coming up and yeah it's just been a wild ride #and i'm sorry this angsty mess is the first thing i post in weeks djhsgfshsjs #we're all friends here we know what to expect #tw anxiety #tw panic attack #averywrites

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn��t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

#analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #wisherbystarlight

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willgrahymn · 4 years

Text

Crushing Fear

wow can you believe I’m posting one of my fics on tumblr? me neither.

Tags: prinxiety, love confessions, some point close after FWSA, flower language, some swearing, and light angst but mostly fluff (oh and I throw shade at Janus).

Summary: Virgil didn't even remember how long he had spent repressing his dumb crush, but with Thomas falling in love, it felt harder to ignore the feelings welling up in his chest. All he knew was that he couldn't admit it out loud. Luckily for him, Roman was a romantic who couldn't stand to let a chance at love go uninvited, even if he didn't always feel deserving of it.

Word count: 3334

I’ll reblog with ao3 link since I know tumblr is dumb about it :)

There were a lot of things Virgil loved about Roman. He loved the way Roman would push back his hair whenever he caught a glimpse of himself or felt nervous and he loved the way it always fell in his face again. He loved the way his eyes lit up when Virgil asked about a show or a musical he knew the prince liked. To be honest, it was hard to think of something he didn't love. Even things he once thought were annoying had become endearing to him.

It didn’t matter. He had a reputation to at least try to maintain, he’d already gone so damn soft around the others since the light sides and Thomas came to get him back and Roman made that sweet little speech in the darkness of his room.

“You make us better.” It was like a song he played on repeat. At the time, Roman was the last person he expected to convince him that this could be his home – his family – but somehow he did. He may have been a jerk early on, but maybe, Virgil thought, he really was a knight in shining armor. Roman was more like him than he once thought; using fake confidence to cover up insecurities was nothing new.

And now, years later, here he was lying in bed like a yearning gay fool with music that wasn’t loud enough to block out his thoughts. He figured his little crush would be something that he could just hide away until it wasn’t even there. That plan was failing horribly though, especially when Roman could steal his breath by just looking at him. He didn't know how to handle feelings that felt bigger than himself.

Would it be smart to try something now? Probably not. What would he even do? Roman always talked of big, grand gestures that could literally and figuratively sweep one off their feet. Virgil didn’t consider himself good at plenty of things, and wooing someone like he was in a movie happened to be on the list. The farthest he'd gotten with confrontation was making Thomas talk to Nico, all because he couldn't stand to see Roman so heartbroken. He could feel the darkness below his eyes lighten to that embarrassingly glittery purple at the memory of how proud Roman was.

But Roman was Creativity and had his own little kingdom in the imagination. Virgil was sure that if he wanted a boyfriend he could just make the man of his dreams who would do anything and everything for him without the slightest hesitation. It seemed existence wasn’t fair like that.

He could just barely hear a knock sounding at the door, Virgil's eyes immediately darting over to where the sound had come. He debated whether or not he should respond. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like his friends, but his same old avoidant tendencies from before never went away.

“Virgil?” Roman asked. His voice making Virgil freeze and want to melt away at the same time. “Are you awake?”

Fuck, shit, some other words Patton would disapprove of. What time was it? 1:30? He couldn’t blame Roman for assuming he was still out, especially since it was the truth not too long ago. He almost felt sorry for his sleep schedule, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter how hard Logan tried to help he always found himself digging through the kitchen at 5 in the morning, and not because he was an early riser. He paused his music, hanging his headphones on his headboard. Listening to Sally’s Song for the 17th time could wait for later.

He heard Roman laugh, and it felt like roses.

“That’s alright. If anyone here knows anything about beauty sleep, it’s me. The glasses gays are insisting that I awaken the beast though, so you better at least have something on before I barge in.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if Roman was talking to himself or knew he was being heard. He just burrowed deeper under his covers. He didn't want Roman to find him awake and think he was ignoring him, even if it was kind of the truth.

The door creaked. It sounded like something from a shitty horror movie. The heavy footsteps didn’t make it any more calming either. Roman was never this quiet. He refused to open his eyes, even as his blanket was pulled away from his face. He couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he felt cool air shock his skin.

“Awh, c’mon! I’m the actor here. Your eyes were closed too tight, for one thing,”

Virgil sighed, opening his eyes and squinting at the light. “I thought you were here to wake me up, not give me acting lessons.”

“Good morning to you too, Mourning Glory. It’s not my fault if you want to hide away all day, I’m just giving tips on being more realistic.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his lip to resist smiling. Wanting to stay calm as if he knew what he was doing.

“You’ve teased me about being a vampire before. Can’t I play the part?”

“Oh, trust me, you’re perfect for the role. Sadly for you, there are two very insistent Sides saying you have to be a real functioning part of the mind, so unless you want me to carry you out there and make a whole scene, you better come down on your own.”

Virgil sighed, rolling onto his back as his eyes adjusted to the light. The two stared at each other. Testing each other. Not getting out of bed never sounded more tempting.

He gave in, rambling. “Sure, okay, whatever.” He sighed, reaching out and taking hold of Roman’s hand, letting the prince pull him upright. Whether it was he or Roman who ended up bringing them so close was something he could stay up late thinking about later. Now wasn’t the time to focus on rough palms or scarred skin that he once bandaged up while cursing out the ever-so-reckless Roman for sneaking out on quests, leaving Virgil to hunt him down with nothing but adrenaline and a certain level of knowingness in his dread.

He tried to bite back a yawn. His eyes widening at the warm feeling of a hand pressed to his face, of a thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. It wasn’t unwelcome, to be honest, he could probably fall back asleep just like this. He’d be okay waking up every morning if they were like this. If the romantic side offered it. If Virgil would allow himself to accept and experience it.

“How long have you been up?”

“Anywhere between 20 minutes to 2 hours. I don’t really know.”

Roman smiled, betraying the worried look in his eyes. It was probably just the effect of his room, that’s what Virgil hoped it was anyway. He tried not to show any disappointment when Roman’s hand fell to the bed.

“I’ll be down in a few,” Virgil continued, “just let me take care of my makeup first.”

Roman’s eyes trailed him as he got up and moved over towards his desk in the corner of the room, flicking on the light as he went by. Why is he fucking staring?

“While I’m here, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a quest this evening? Or maybe we could throw a ball for the mind palace? I know it’s not your thing, but I thought it might be fun? Or y’know, something else more low-key.”

“Uh, yeah you know I’m not big on big things,” Virgil replied, looking over to the prince picking at a loose thread on the cuffs of his sleeves. “You know if you want to hang out you can just ask, you don't need some extravagant event going on to get me alone with you.”

Roman nodded, not seeming any calmer than before. Virgil's brows furrowed, worries flowed through him as if it were his blood. He didn't want to make Roman talk if he didn't want to, but god was it nerve-racking.

At the very least, it seemed like he wouldn't be putting on any more black eyeshadow to try and hide its changes.

Roman, on the other hand, decided not to question why the Side no longer seemed interested in putting his makeup on, and being grateful for the fact Virgil took advantage of the fact they could conjure themselves into different outfits rather than changing right then and there.

The two stayed there, an awkward silence taking over the room before a crash sounded from the living room.

“We should probably go.”

Virgil simply nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around as he followed Roman out of the room.

Luckily, the crash had only come from Patton knocking over a stack of DVDs, CDs, and a few other things. Another lost-glasses incident. It was a miracle nothing got broken.

The day itself would have felt completely normal if not for the fact Roman kept looking at him. Starting off as unsure as they did in his room, and slowly brightening like he had finally figured out a plothole in one of his stories. It was even more unsettling when he realized Roman was no longer there, vanished off to do god knows what.

So Virgil spent the next couple of hours trying to ignore the feeling of his fears eating him from the inside out like a moth to a sweater. He wouldn’t mind the holes if they didn’t leave him so uncomfortable. But then again, maybe that was fitting for his aesthetic. Torn-up shirts and jeans to pair with his torn-up emotions. At least he found solace in the darkness of his outfits.

It didn’t take long to get bored of the mundane mind palace.

Maybe I should take Roman up on that quest idea. He thought, his foot bounced, hanging over the side of the couch. Even if it wasn’t in his list of Shit Virgil Can Do Without Fucking Up, it was better than sitting around and waiting for nothing.

Virgil got up silently, giving a quick two-finger salute to Logan who had started reading some new detective novel before he sunk out. Appearing again before Roman’s door. Maybe he was just self-conscious, but it looked bigger than it was. Like behind it would be some hidden treasure that he finally reached.

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Roman was certainly someone to be treasured, even if he made mistakes. He just wished the other Sides would help him understand it.

He held his breath as he knocked, jolting back when it swung open almost instantly.

“You’re here!” Roman exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d take you up on your offer from earlier… if it’s still up, anyway.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally!” The prince tugged at his collar, not making eye contact. Virgil couldn’t help but smile slightly at the prince's giddiness. “I was just working on something if you’d care to see it?”

“You know I wanna see whatever you come up with, even if it’s some rewrite of Frozen.”

Roman bounced again, holding his hands out, palms up. He looked at Virgil with an emotion he couldn’t name, but it made him feel anxious in a good kind of way. Not anything like the dread he was used to. He placed his hands on Roman’s, and it wasn’t till they were sinking out and into the imagination that he realized it was the same kind of feeling from when Nico first texted Thomas about meeting up again. He held Roman’s hands a little tighter.

When he opened his eyes, they were surrounded by flowers.

“Woah…”

“Do you like it? I had to sneak into Logan’s room and borrow a few of his books.”

“I– yeah. It’s beautiful. And don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” He stepped away, wandering the circular little garden. He could only recognize so many. “Didn’t know you had a thing for landscaping.”

“I try my best. Honestly, I’m just happy neither of us has allergies.”

“Gosh, you’re such a dork.” Virgil laughed, petting the petals of a rose. Not paying attention to the way Roman watched him and shifted his weight every so often nor how warm his cheeks had become. “Do you know what any of them mean?”

“I do, but I think if I tell you, you’ll realize how predictable I am.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, roses are pretty well known. The red ones are anyway. Love, passion, romance, and courage. Things like that.” Roman said, walking closer. His boots clicking against the walkway’s pavement.

He stood close by yet just far enough for Virgil not to feel like he was being dissected under his gaze. It was an unreasonable thing to think after all the time they had spent becoming friends, he knew that. Yet part of him continued to scream that one day Roman would look at him and find out how horrible he thought himself to be and never want to be around him again. Maybe that was why he refused to confess just how much he liked Roman. It was a weight that crushed his chest every day yet made him feel dizzyingly light.

It was all too complicated.

“What about the purple ones?”

“It kind of varies by shade, but most of the time it’s about love at first sight or enchantment. A lot of the flowers here have to do with that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, should’ve been able to figure that one out myself.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s no matter, I just want to make sure you understand what they mean.” He looked to Virgil, again with that unnamed emotion. “You do get what I’m trying to say, right?”

For a moment, he hoped he did.

“Uh, yeah? Princey, I get it, you’re a hopeless romantic. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” He bit the inside of his lip, then asked. “What are they for?”

Roman looked at him with what he could only see as sympathy.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I really do think you need it spelled out.”

Virgil scoffed, going to argue before he was cut off.

“First,” Roman began, reaching for Virgil’s hand, “You take him by the hand. That’s as far as you got before we both started screaming, anyway. So I suppose I’ll just have to wing it from here. I know I haven’t always been the best to you. I know I still make mistakes, and I really don’t want this to be one of them.”

“Roman–”

“I’m not finished. Virgil, out of all the other’s, you’re always the one who notices when I’m upset. You’re always the one who lets me bitch about Deceit without saying I was wrong for trusting him and then wrong for not. Really, you’re the only one I can bitch about the dark sides to, period. Logan is so reserved about it, and Patton is, well, he’s Patton. He tries to see the good in everyone.”

Roman paused, catching his breath. Virgil thought it best not to speak. He didn’t think he’d even be able to if he wanted.

“What I’m getting is that I trust you. I trust you because you’re my best friend and you listen to what I say even if it’s dumb. Because when I don’t feel like talking you're always down to just watch classic Disney movies and fill in coloring books. I know you don't realize it, but you do a hell of a lot more good than you believe, and I love you for that. You don’t have to say it back or even feel the same, I know you’re pretty reluctant about it. I just need you to know.”

Virgil stared at him, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of love. Roman had said ‘I love you’ before, but not like this. What the fuck do you even do when your crush confesses they like you, more so, that you aren’t obligated to like them back? Complicated, and now surreal.

“You really mean it? All of it??”

“Of course I do, my Columbine Cutie! I could never lie to someone about love, I hope you know that.” Roman replied. Waving his hand as he conjured a mix of red and purple columbines, tucking them gently behind Virgil’s ear. Both knowing it was the truth, that Roman wouldn’t subject someone to such a thing because he knew how it felt.

But he still trusted Virgil with his love all the same. Trusted that it wouldn’t be taken advantage of or used against him.

“How long have you known?”

“You know, I think I fell for you far before I knew it.”

Virgil huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I uh… I think it was the same for me. Falling for you, that is.” God, it felt so weird to say it. Good, too. “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d end up here. I care about you too. I love you, I mean.”

And Roman… Roman just started to beam, shining like the sun as Virgil tripped over his words. He bounced, hands waving as he did. Despite his lingering fear, Virgil couldn’t stop the excitement Roman radiated and the wonder of it all from seeping in under his skin, a feeling like vibrations that he could only try to shake out. And there were hands cupping his face and there were words he didn’t hear. He still knew what they asked. “Fucking yes.” was all he could bring himself to give as a response before Roman’s lips were on his.

Strawberry chapstick and the faint scent of cherry blossom perfume were all that went through his head, it was the only thing that really could. He held onto Roman’s uniform like if he let go it would all disappear. Another dream reminding him of what he thought he couldn’t have.

When Roman pulled away and Virgil opened his eyes, he was still there.

He was real. Everything that had happened was real. He couldn’t help but giggle at how fantastical it was.

Roman brushed his bangs away, just enough to fully show his eyes. “Your eyeshadow changed again,” he announced, bouncing on his heels once again. Virgil groaned, turning away. “It’s a good look for you. Especially with how much you blush, my Lavender Love.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable.”

Virgil knew from the grin on Roman’s face that it had only intensified.

“Whatever. I just– for what it’s worth– I appreciate it. All of this. I’d probably die never telling you shit about how I felt if you didn’t do it first.”

Roman softened, “Maybe, or maybe you’d end up pushing yourself like you did to Thomas. Either way, I’m happy with it if you are.”

Virgil nodded, the two going silent. Roman rocked back and forth still quietly bouncing, probably thinking of what to say next.

Slowly, Virgil opened his arms, smiling nervously to his crush– lover– whatever they were. He wasn’t all that open to touch, but Roman was so far off from everything else it didn’t matter. The prince smiled, pulling Virgil close to him and pressing a kiss to his magenta-colored hair.

“I’m happy to be your knight as long as you want me to be. Whatever it is that gets thrown our way, I’ll fight for you as you have for me. You deserve to shine every day like you are now.”

“Jesus, Princey. You already made your dramatic love declaration, but... thank you. I want you to be happy too.”

The two held each other, and for the moment, everything was okay. No dark sides, no fear, no challenging life debates. It was unescapable, of course, but it didn’t matter. They could survive and fight this hell of a world. They could make the other realize how lovable they were. Because they had each other.

#Sanders Sides #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #prinxiety fic #your validation. hand it over SDLCVFH #ugh bye im gonna cry about this #Virgil's Volumes

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