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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sander #fic

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anxiousgaypanicking · 7 months

Text

Saline Solution

Synopsis: Logan never would have thought such a thing could happen to him. Maybe someone more naive; someone more lovesick, but not him. And yet, as he leans over his toilet, a mess of blood and speckled flower petals clouding the water below, Logan can't deny he's infected. Infected with love. Infected with pain. Infected with Hanahaki.

Relationships: Romantic Logince, Platonic Analogical and Loceit

General Warnings: This fic will contain graphic descriptions of blood, vomit, pain, and suffocation, but is otherwise a love story :)

Notes: this is my fic for @sandersidesbigbang ! it was... a bit of a process finishing this (and by "this" i mean "chapter one") with the medical hell i've gone through this past year, but i'm proud to have anything at all to post. i'd like to extend gratitude to my beta @lost-in-thought-20 , and my amazing artists @failingatfailing (whose art can be found here) and @dystopiagnome (whose art can be found here). thank you guys so much for your patience with me, thank you to the people who hosted the event, and thank you to those who read this for showing support to not only my work, but the artists' and betas' works and effort, and the other writers' who's stories are just as amazing.

Part One: I Think This Time I'm Dying Masterlist AO3

---

Logan’s stomach twists with hellish cramps; a heavy stone forming in his diaphragm. There’s an ever-present urge to vomit, but Logan doesn’t feel like his stomach holds anymore. After all, he’d already emptied a lot of his contents into the toilet bowl he’s currently slouching over.

And he’s just… staring.

His throat burns from the stomach acid that ripped through it, but he doesn’t bother to get up and get water. He’s too distracted.

Mixed in with the off-white bile staining the water are specks of blood, slowly dissipating to taint the water the lightest of reds. But equally visible, floating atop the water, is a petal.

It’s white. At least, it was white. A few drops of blood from Logan’s coughing decorates the item, but it was originally just a singular white rose petal. And as Logan sniffles, he swallows down another retch, though his mouth burns due to him choking down the acid desperately trying to escape.

He needs water to wash away the metallic taste in his mouth.

An alarm on his phone rings; it’s a blaring reminder set to alert him that he should be up and brushing his teeth, beginning his before-school routine. Unfortunately, a horrible twisting in his stomach had knocked him awake earlier in the morning, meaning he’d been awake a lot earlier than he’d wanted to be.

He turns his head to the side, resting his cheek on his arm as he stares up at the counter where his phone rests, vibrating.

He needs to get up.

Shakily, he pushes himself to a stand, where he’s unsteady on his feet and once more overcome with nausea. For a moment, he thinks he’s just going to crumple and puke again, but he doesn’t. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he silences his alarm, and sees a few stray drops of blood on his lips. Gross.

He grabs a washrag, and turns the hot water on in the sink as he places the rag underneath it. Folding his glasses to the side, he then holds the steaming rag to his face, sucking in the hot air as the damp rag wipes at his pores and his mouth, cleansing him of the dirt and the blood built up on his visage.

The blurry figure he sees in the mirror across from him looks disheveled. Despite throwing up, he’s pale, with pronounced eyebags no doubt formed from being forced awake so early.

He then dips his face towards the sink, swallowing down lukewarm water before gurgling it in his mouth, and spitting it up. Logan’s not blind to the red tint he sees when he spits it out, but he ignores it regardless.

After brushing his teeth, he quickly flushes the toilet, dragging the rose petal into the sewers, before heading back to his room.

He’s quick to get dressed and ready, but he lingers by the bathroom on his way out the door. If there’s anything left in his system, he should probably get it out now. He coughs into his hand, and the double checks to see if there’s any blood spatter. And when there isn’t any, he heads outside.

His parents' cars are already gone, leaving the driveway unblocked for Logan to pull out, and the drive to school is silent. No radio, no music, no pleasant chatter as a result of carpooling. Just himself and the sound of his breathing.

He’s one of the first in the school building, but he doesn’t mind. The first place he goes is to the library, into the nonfiction section, and deep into the aisles.

There’s no specific author he’s searching for, but there is a specific book he has in mind. Or, more accurately, a genre of book. Sure, his phone was at his immediate disposal, but he doesn’t want quick answers and easy five-minute “fixes.” He wanted firsthand accounts, and actual descriptions of what was happening. Of what was going to happen.

Because Logan has a general idea, but he wants to know the extent.

He swallows the spit in his mouth. Does he… does he actually want to know? Well, of course he wants to know, but will knowing really help anything?

He shakes his head. Of course knowing will help. It has to.

Eventually, Logan’s fingers come to rest on the spine of a book by Alec Vyuga. A man who lived years and years ago. It’s a translation of the Russian version, but it’s a book about this rare disease nonetheless.

The flower disease. The love sickness.

Logan pulls it off the shelf. He flips it open, and sees recreations of the human anatomy detailed with the sprawling roots of roses, curling around the lungs and reaching through the airways of a faceless drawing. Twisted together into a wonderful bouquet emerging from the mouth of a victim. But it was just a depiction.

Eyes darting to the description underneath the sketch reads the following: “A detailed replication of the final stages of Hanahaki, as it appears during a vivisection. Victim lifespan past this stage is as short as minutes, all the way down to mere seconds. Suffocation is inevitable.”

Inevitable.

Logan closes the book and sighs. How depressing of a concept this was. He’d normally find such a thing fascinating, but it’s hard to be fascinated by something actively killing you.

Because that’s what was happening. Supposedly. For all Logan knows, he could have mistakenly swallowed a petal the day before, gotten it lodged in his throat, and coughed it up this morning all without realizing. Of course, that wouldn’t explain the blood, but not all questions have answers. This one definitely did, though, which was both relieving to Logan’s inquisitive side, and horrifying to his emotional one.

He brings the book up to the front desk, and the librarian looks at the cover, and then for the barcode. She looks remorseful.

“Dangerous disease, that one,” she states, as her scanner beeps. “Happening to someone you know?”

“No,” Logan answers, as she hands the book back to him. “I’m just curious.”

She nods, but her only response is “two weeks. And if you’d like an extension, you can always stop by before then.”

Logan leaves the library. He adjusts the straps of his backpack, and holds his book to his chest protectively. The title is pressed against his front, leaving just the summary on the back, as if hiding the contents from any wandering eyes.

He slides into his home economics class, blessed to have something easy as his first class due to wanting to read, only to see the words “Group Projects Begin Today” scrawled in white chalk across the blackboard.

Sighing, Logan feels the urge to slump his head down onto his desk. He’ll have the time to read later, of course, but he’d rather just do it now and get it over with! He thirsts for knowledge, after all, and Hanahaki was slowly becoming one of his newfound interests.

The class slowly starts to fill in, and sliding next to him is a bigger kid, in a tight white shirt.

“Hi, Logan,” Roman greets him, as he attempts to stuff a thick packet into an already-full red folder. Roman’s thick upper arm rubs against Logan’s, and Logan’s chest tightens.

“Hi, Roman,” Logan parrots, peeking over at Roman’s papers. Along the front are music notes with cues here and crescendos there. Across the top is the title “Little Shop Of Horrors.” Logan’s eyes dart down to the lyrics, witnessing a brief interaction between two characters, in which one gets a mask stuck to his face. The other part - Seymour, if Logan could read that correctly - was highlighted.

As Roman finally gets it shoved in the folder, Logan’s left to watch as Roman then struggles to get it into his backpack, which is just as crammed with stuff.

Moments later, the teacher walks in, and as if on cue a bell rings shortly after.

She wastes no time grabbing a piece of chalk, and very quickly drawing out a picture of a potted plant. It’s very basic; a stem growing from a very childish drawing of a flowerpot, with two leaves on the end. She punctuates the last line of the drawing with a hit against the chalkboard, grabbing the attention of the few students still murmuring, including Roman, who had turned in his seat to talk to a friend behind him.

“Alright, class!” the teacher - Ms. Spring - begins, smoothing out her skirt as she looks across the room. “Today, we’re beginning our semester-long project, whose intention is to teach you about care, nurture, patience, and perception!” She taps beneath her eye, widening it for a touch of comedy, before she straightens up again. “Of course, we’ll be doing other stuff over these nine weeks. Don’t think you’ll be getting out of work permanently, but outside of school you guys will be expected to be focusing on this.”

She grabs a pile of papers from her desk, and begins walking around passing them out. Weirdly, each table - of two - gets a singular packet, which has Logan’s heart beating a touch faster as their packet is set between him and Roman.

“As some of you might notice, not everyone is being given a packet. That’s because this project will be done with a partner.”

Immediately, chatter bursts forth, as people signal each other from across the room in order to secure a partner. Some kids look around wildly, in such a manner that Logan would think they’re back in elementary school playing dodgeball, and not in a high-school science class.

“But,” Ms. Spring continues, clapping her hands together, “those partners have already been decided by me. Your partner will be your desk mates. That way nobody is left out!”

A mixture of quiet cheers and destroyed groans reach Logan’s ears, as he feels a weird clog in his throat. He feels the urge to cough, but he represses it, as he glances over at Roman, who looks rather neutral about the situation, neither pleased or displeased.

Behind them, Roman’s friend makes an offhand comment about making the most of a bad situation, and Logan can’t interpret whether he’s talking about himself, or to Roman.

His gut swells with pain, cramping horribly.

Reaching forward, he pulls the packet to him and begins to flip through it, noting a variety of different measurements, lines, and instructions to detail steps taken throughout the process. And when scanning over what the aforementioned process is, it’s the process of growing a plant.

“Each pair will pick a type of plant to grow from my collection of seeds,” Ms. Spring states, as she spreads a handful of seed packets over the front desk. “Once you do, you’ll be given a pot, some fertilizer, and a page of instructions on the basics of caring for a plant. Now come on! It’s first come first serve.”

Roman pushes himself out of his seat quicker than Logan can blink, and Logan’s hand is being grabbed as he’s tugged away from the table and towards the front. His hip clips the side of the furniture and makes him wince briefly in pain, but what hurts more is the acid crawling up his throat, and the thin, easily tearable item Logan can feel mashed between his tongue and his teeth.

He feels like he’s going to vomit.

Roman’s rather big - muscular, sure, but otherwise wide; he’d be threatening if Logan didn’t already know he was quite the sap - but that means he’s easily able to push past the group at the front and get a good look at the options.

Logan is pulled to his side, but he hardly even gets a chance to look over what’s available before Roman’s grabbing one outright and cheering in victory, a jubilant sound better suited for winning a football game than grabbing a flower seed.

Then, Logan’s being pulled back towards their table, stopping just a few paces short as Roman holds out the seed he grabbed in his hand, his other holding Logan’s rather firmly.

“A rose,” Roman proudly exclaims, before he finally pulls his hand away from Logan’s and holds it to his heart. “How romantic. I was hoping I’d get this one.”

Logan’s floating feeling crashes at Roman’s choice of words, and then he’s quickly turning and speed-walking out of the room, barely managing to grasp the bathroom pass and run down the hall.

He bursts into the bathroom and pushes his way into a stall before collapsing onto his knees and hurling over the toilet. Acid comes spilling out of him, burning his throat as a mixture of bile and blood lands in the water below him. How familiar.

The smooth item that was in his mouth previously once more floats atop the water, though this time appearing significantly more stained and shredded by Logan’s teeth and the blood he’d been suppressing inside of his mouth.

He pants, as blood trickles from the corners of his mouth into the water below, making a soft splashing sound as they drip into the water below.

Slowly, Logan unfurls a few pieces of toilet paper, and brings them to his mouth, soaking them in his blood.

There’s a lot more compared to this morning. He expected this amplification to be more gradual, and yet a few touches and words thrown his way and Logan was left to vomit up his feelings in a high-school bathroom. Gross.

He folds the toilet paper up, but before dropping it in he starts coughing hard. Quickly, he cups his hands to his mouth, toilet paper folded within them to keep his hands clean, before he coughs up hard enough to dislodge something from his throat.

In his hands sits a clump of petals. They’re joined together only with blood, causing them to clump and curl. They’re so stained that it’s hard to even tell they were once white.

He holds them. He stares at them.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Logan scrambles to get up and slam the stall door shut, locking it behind him. More blood drips from his face, and onto the ground. Even though he can’t see whoever walked in, he knows that flinging the stall door shut would have dragged their attention towards him.

The other person who walked into the bathroom hesitates, before there’s a quiet “uhm… hey, look, if you’re on your period or something I have pads in my bookbag. Don’t feel pressured to take them or anything but… you’re kind of making a mess.”

Logan recognizes the voice, and after some brief internal debating, he unlocks the stall and cracks it open, coming face to face with a semi-awkward, semi-uncomfortable Virgil.

“Logan?” Virgil immediately questions, reaching forward to pry the stall door fully open, which makes Logan stumble backwards. He goes to reach for the handle to flush the toilet, but neglects to remember the petals in his hand or the blood wiped over his face.

Virgil, however, notices these things immediately.

“Oh my god…” Virgil utters, as Logan slips on his own blood and falls back, landing with his ass on the ground, leaning back against the toilet he was heaving over moments before. The toilet paper he was holding is crumpled as he squeezes it hard, causing blood to smear over his palms.

Logan watches as Virgil’s eyes drift from Logan’s body, to the bloody petals, and then back to Logan. They’re wide.

Logan knows that Virgil knows, and Virgil can see how badly Logan wishes he didn’t.

There’s silence between them, before Virgil’s letting his bookbag fall to the ground with a thump. He turns around and walks to the sink, grabbing a handful of paper towels and getting them wet, before he’s coming back to Logan.

He kneels down, and then he’s pressing the paper to Logan’s face, silently helping him wipe the blood off.

Logan cringes at the rough wipes, but otherwise stays silent, watching as Virgil dumps the bloodied towels into the toilet despite not being supposed to. Even though he’s disgusted, Virgil even picks up the clumped flowers, wrapping them up, and tossing them into the toilet as well.

“You’re sick,” Virgil then says, as he goes from his knees to his ass, sitting directly across from Logan. Logan sighs, deep and heavy.

“Yeah.”

“For who?”

This is where Logan hesitates, which has Virgil sighing in turn.

“I’m going to tell Janus.”

Immediately, Logan’s eyes flicker upwards. He’s hardly able to utter a “please, don’t,” before Virgil is raising his hand in a “stop” motion. He doesn’t look happy or malicious at all, but it’s clear he’s being earnest.

“He’s going to find out sooner or later, and I know you’re not going to tell him. Hell, you wouldn’t have even told me. But if he has to find out on his own, he’s going to be upset.”

That is true. Both are true, actually. As much as Logan doesn’t want to tell Janus, it’s sort of hard to repress an illness whose symptoms are very physically taxing. But he wishes he could have waited a bit before he told either of his friends. He himself didn’t even realize anything was wrong internally until a couple days ago, and until this morning, he had no idea what sickness he’d contracted.

“Do you even know who this sickness is over?”

“No,” Logan lies, almost immediately. He has a hypothesis, of course, but he’d rather not share his newfound lovelife with a friend of his, especially because the fact it’s unrequited makes him feel a certain level of embarrassment.

Virgil sighs again, rubbing his face this time. His eyes are shut in concentration and distress brought on by the amount of information he’s suddenly been forced to process. “Okay. Okay.”

Logan can’t help but huff out a small laugh. “You seem more stressed about this than I am.”

Dramatically, Virgil throws his hands into the air. “I don’t think you’re stressed enough!”

The implications of Virgil’s words hang in the air for a moment. There’s a lot Logan could, and to some extent should, be worried about. But, he can’t bring himself to acknowledge those things yet. After all, most of the dangers come after the sickness has progressed, and it’s still in the early stages!

Logan will read that book, learn the symptoms, and understand how to manage them while he has the disease. And then, he’ll get the surgery! Plain and simple; no unnecessarily complicated feelings to hinder him! He might as well experience such a rare thing firsthand. At least, that’s what he says to calm himself down as the metallic taste of blood taints his taste buds.

Logan licks his lips. “Water?” he questions, and watches as Virgil leans back to rummage through his bag, before sighing and shaking his head.

“I don’t have a bottle on me. There’s a fountain right outside, though.”

“I need to get back to class anyway.”

Virgil bites his lip. “Are you… are you sure, man? I’m sure if you tell the nurse you threw up she’ll let you go home and rest.”

Logan spits the remaining blood out of his mouth and into another wad of toilet paper. He stands and brushes himself off, before checking his clothes for any blood that might have spilled onto him.

He also uses some more toilet paper to wipe off the floor, making sure any traces of his disease are cleaned entirely, before flushing the toilet again.

“We’re starting a group project in science class,” Logan explains briefly. “I need to get my partner’s information down so we can discuss the nature of such outside of school.”

Virgil moves to wash his hands, before shoving them deep into his pockets, while Logan leans over the sink to wash his fingers free of blood more thoroughly. Virgil watches as he drags the soap under his fingernails, between each fold of skin, over his palms two or three times before he eventually decides to rinse and dry.

“Geez. Is it going to be that much work?”

Logan shrugs at the question. “We’re growing and tending to a plant. I probably missed Ms. Spring going over the rubric, but we’ll be given a copy. I assume the thresholds involve keeping the plant alive and documenting the process.”

“That sounds fun.” Virgil grabs his bag and then follows Logan out of the bathroom. “I guess.”

Logan bends over the fountain and drinks enough water to fully wash out the taste of blood, swishing it between his teeth. To avoid grossing Virgil out, he doesn’t spit the water down the drain, but swallows it instead, although that seems to make Virgil cringe anyway.

“If it gets worse, let me know, okay?” Virgil then says, as Logan prepares to head back to class. “Let us know. Janus and I.”

They both know there’s little Virgil or Janus could do to help, but it’s the thought that counts, Logan supposes. So, he sighs, and agrees, promising he’ll let them know if… or, when, things eventually escalate.

Then he heads back to class.

He hangs the bathroom pass back up and apologizes to the teacher for rushing out, vaguely expressing it was an emergency. She waves him off, expressing that Roman heard the instructions and can relay them to Logan, but if he has any questions he can ask her or send an email.

Roman’s turned around again, talking, but looks back when he hears Logan’s chair scrape against the floor.

“You okay?” he asks, more so out of courtesy than any genuine concern. Logan appreciates the effort nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Logan responds, as he scoots his chair closer to Roman, using the excuse of looking at the packet as a reason to move closer. “What’d I miss?”

Roman slides the packet so it’s perfectly in the middle of them. Roman’s signed both of their names prettily at the top, and already filled in the type of flower they’d be growing. Additionally, there’s a pot on their table now. It’s not filled with dirt yet, but the baggie with the fertilizer and the packet of seeds sit inside.

“Just general rules and stuff,” Roman shrugs, as he twirls his pen between his fingers. “We have to take care of the plant together, take pictures as it grows, measure it… all that stuff.”

There’s not much class time left, but Roman doesn’t ask for Logan’s personal information. He doesn’t ask for a phone number, nor does he ask for an address, which means Logan will have to.

But, actually speaking the words makes his stomach twist uncomfortably, and Logan really isn’t in the mood to vomit again. However, Roman’s a bit airheaded and probably doesn’t even realize they need a way to communicate outside of school, especially since they’ll need to meet up frequently for the project.

So, Logan has to metaphorically bite the bullet and speak first.

He suppresses a gag, before going “can I have your phone number?” Roman side eyes him at the question, giving Logan the need to quickly clarify “for the project.” He takes his moment to clear his throat, and feels the urge to get more water. “That way we can organize meetups to make sure we’re sharing responsibility for the plant.”

“Oh,” Roman responds, before he unlocks his phone. “That makes sense.”

He slides it over to Logan, allowing him to make a contact. Logan’s fingers hesitate over Roman’s screen, but after a moment he quickly types down all of his information before gently nudging Roman’s phone back over.

“I’ll take the plant home with me tonight,” Roman then says, as he grabs the pot and pulls it close to him. “My bedroom faces the sun in the morning, and a nice big window funneling sunlight is exactly what a new plant needs.”

“Along with water and dirt, I suppose,” Logan comments. Roman rolls his eyes at the obviousness of Logan’s interjection.

He does notice how Roman carefully organizes his bag around the pot, though, making sure his folders are bent in a way that won’t jostle or break the plant if the bag is set down too hard, or in the case of a mishap. Clearly, he’s trying to take care of it, though Logan’s unsure if Roman cares more about the grades or the roses. No matter what it is, at least Logan’s guaranteed the plant will be safe.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Logan says, as he tucks the packet into his own folder, packing his own stuff up.

Roman huffs out a laugh in response. “I guess,” he chuckles, as if Logan’s statement was unnatural. And Logan wants to cringe at himself for forgoing his typically formal poise and being weirder, but he instead focuses on the sound of Roman’s laugh, taking the time to memorize it as the bell rings and Roman walks out the door, leaving Logan carelessly behind.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #agp fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #hanahaki #logince #unrequited logince #logince hanahaki #thomas sanders big bang 2023

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

Text

if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you - chapter 9

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, Dukeceit, platonic Loceit and Intrulogical, platonic/parental Prinxiety and Logince Warnings: Language, very non-graphic injuries, a few extremely vague references to child abuse. Word count: 3384

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

–

Chapter 9

Logan made quick work of his investigation of Count Ruthless’s lair. He didn’t need to bother with minions, of course—no minion who valued their skin would ever challenge a superhero, let alone Dr. Logic. Besides, most of them seemed to be concerned with vacating the premises at top speed and could not care less about Logan making his way to the heart of the lair.

The Count, Logan was unsurprised to discover, owned very little tech that was of real interest to him, but there were several pieces Logan deemed it best to remove from circulation among the villainy of Sandersville. Virgil would no doubt be unhappy with this, but he had promised Logan first pick.

Once he had selected the items he wanted, Logan loaded them into a cart and took it back to the rooftop. He’d scheduled a bot earlier in the day to arrive here precisely when he needed it, and sure enough, it was right on time. Transferring the cart to the bot and sending it back to his lab was a simple matter. After sending it on its way, he crossed the rooftop back to Virgil’s prone form to check on him.

Virgil was still unconscious. His pulse was steady, and his breaths were long and even. The device Logan had used to knock him out, a new model he’d been working on that was small enough to conceal in his hand, had worked beautifully; it should leave him with no unpleasant side effects upon awakening. However, it would likely be another hour or two before Virgil came to—in order to eliminate all unwanted side effects, Logan had had to increase the minimum time the device affected its victims for.

Having been prepared for this, Logan clipped one of his stock invisibility devices onto Virgil’s belt. He arranged Virgil’s arms into a more comfortable position, so that they would not cramp by the time he woke up, and tucked a note into his hand. On it, he had printed the dictionary definition of the word “prank.”

He turned on the invisibility device so that Virgil would not be discovered in his vulnerable state, then took off from the rooftop and flew across the city back to his lab to wrap up his duties for the day. All in all, everything had worked out beautifully.

***

The bot and the cart full of tech were both waiting outside the outermost set of doors to his lab. Logan frowned to himself. Remus ought to have seen the notification that something was outside and let the bot in by now. That was odd.

But the reason for the delay became evident when he made his way into the lab proper and discovered Remus, perched in Janus’s lap, cupping their face in his hands and trading soft words and giggles and kisses with them.

Logan rolled his eyes and cleared his throat loudly. Janus started so violently the chair went skidding a few inches and Remus fell right off of it, landing on his tailbone.

“Oh, hi Doc!” Remus greeted cheerily from the floor without so much as a wince. He waved up at Logan as Janus composed himself in an excessively dignified manner, trying to act like he hadn’t been startled at all.

“Reflection, I have no desire to revoke your access to my lab, but every day you find new ways to test me,” Logan told Janus as Remus got to his feet and brushed himself off. “We just discussed this.”

“Actually, it’s just the same way a lot of different times,” Remus pointed out, taking an instinctive-looking step to the side that put himself in front of Janus. It was a remarkably subtle movement—the casual slide seemed perfectly natural. Only the slight line of tension in Remus’s shoulders gave his anxious state away.

Logan frowned to himself, a protective feeling nudging away some of his irritation with his intern. He knew what this type of behavior stemmed from, and though he’d offered what he could to help remedy it, that made him no less angry on Remus’s behalf for what had caused it.

“It’s mostly my fault, anyway,” Remus added, greatly increasing the strength of the emotion Logan was experiencing. “Don’t get her in trouble. Please.”

“Neither of you are ‘in trouble,’ Remus,” Logan assured the younger man gently. “I am merely exasperated.” He directed the bot towards one of the storage rooms and went to power his main computer all the way down for the day. “And you certainly do not bear a higher share of responsibility in this matter than Reflection does—you never leave your workspace to seek him out. But, to be clear: I would appreciate it if you would incorporate my feedback into future actions, but I have no intention of meting out unpleasant consequences for you, now or ever.”

“Okay,” Remus said after a considering pause. “Thanks.”

“So I can do what I want,” Janus put in, sounding very pleased.

“No.” Logan pointed at her. “You I am annoyed with. If you continue testing me, I may actually revoke your access to the lab for a day or two to make my point.”

Janus pouted at him. “Meanie.”

“I feel I have been extremely lenient on this matter up to this point in time, actually,” Logan informed her.

“Well, I could just put on your face. Or his.” Janus pointed at Remus. “You can’t ban yourself from your lab, so you can’t keep me out.” He grinned triumphantly.

“I’ve actually developed bio-scanning capabilities that can detect the shapeshifter gene,” Logan informed them. “So I can, in fact, keep you out if I should desire to do so.”

“What?” Janus all but shrieked, absolutely scandalized. “You said it blends in and hides! You said that mimicking DNA was one of my key strengths!”

“Precisely,” Logan said, greatly amused. “That is why it took me a decade to develop something that could consistently and reliably identify it.”

“And you just didn’t tell me you had this?” Janus flung his hands in the air.

“I was planning to save it for an opportune moment.” Logan gave them a teasing smile. “But drawing this reaction from you is in fact entertaining enough to suffice.”

“You’re awful,” Janus told him, which Logan knew was a compliment. “Can you show me how it works?”

“I would be happy to. However, not today.” Without further preamble, Logan took off his labcoat and hung it in its place on the wall.

“…Whatcha doing, Doc?” Remus asked, clearly unsure if he was supposed to know why Logan was preparing to leave or if his confusion was well-founded.

“I have some personal matters that need my attention, and will be unavailable for the rest of the day,” Logan explained. “I should be back to a normal schedule tomorrow. Anyone trying to reach me should be directed to try again in the morning. For now, I’d like you to put off your normal work for the remainder of the day and instead begin cataloguing the assets I’ve just brought in. They are various pieces of supervillain tech reclaimed from the lair of Count Ruthless.”

“Got it,” Remus said with a nod, getting to his feet at once and heading for the back room where the cart was. For all his time spent flirting with Janus on the clock, he was a busy worker once he set himself to a particular task.

Sometimes too busy. Logan had not forgotten the day, a month or two after he’d initially taken Remus on, when he’d arrived at the lab in the morning to discover that Remus was still busily working away, having forgotten to go home at all or even to sleep.

“Remus,” Logan called.

Remus paused and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, Doc?”

“Remember to go home on time and to prioritize fulfilling your need for food and sleep,” Logan said. “It is more than fine if your task is unfinished today.”

“Sure, sure,” Remus said dismissively, then visibly reined himself in. “I mean—okay. I’ll try and remember.” He hesitated. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Of course,” Logan assured him.

***

After bidding goodbye to both Remus and Janus, Logan made a quick stop at his official Dr. Logic apartment, which he kept in order to maintain the privacy of his actual apartment. He shed his work attire in favor of a simple turtleneck and pair of slacks and replaced his contact lenses with glasses, then left the apartment by the secret exit. From there, he then made his way to the overdramatic tower that Virgil made his home in.

Waiting until there was nobody on the street to witness him—though this was not a long wait; people generally avoided the Nightmare’s lair at all costs—Logan stepped onto the grounds, waiting just a second before continuing. The security system should recognize that he was out of costume, and therefore had clearance to access the building, but it was always best to make sure. Having satisfied himself that he was not about to be obliterated via laser, he made his way up the steps and let himself in.

He knocked on the door of Virgil’s penthouse-style living quarters as he let himself into that a moment later.

Roman’s head, the only part of him visible over the back of the couch, swiveled at once. “Oh!” He waved as Thomas reached to pause the television. “Hi, Doc—tor…” Roman trailed off, little brow wrinkling in confusion as he clearly remembered mid-sentence the instruction not to use Logan’s hero name when he was out of costume.

“Good afternoon,” Logan said. He glanced around. “Virgil has not yet returned, I take it?”

“No,” Thomas said. Something in Logan’s tone must have been off, because Thomas squinted at him. “Do you… know something about that?”

“I have no idea what you are insinuating,” Logan said blandly. “I’m sure he will be back soon. Perhaps in approximately three and a half minutes.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Fine. Be like that. Supers,” he mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Logan made his way to sit beside Roman on the sofa. “How are you doing physically?” he inquired.

“Um, good. I had more of the painkillers at lunchtime.” Roman bounced a little. “I’ve been watching so much She-Ra! Because Virgil said you said I should rest. And not go to school. But Virgil says he’s going to make it so I can just go to school again later without getting in trouble. Have you seen She-Ra? Besides what I showed you yesterday? Do you know Sea Hawk?”

“I do not,” Logan said. “May I—“

“He’s a very handsome man,” Roman said eagerly, “and he has a shiny mustache and he sings! He’s my favorite. Um, one of my favorites.” His eyes widened. “Oh, I—I think I interrupted, sorry.” His shoulders drew inwards.

“It is fine. He sounds fascinating,” Logan said politely, though to be honest he could hardly care less about the show or its characters. “May I examine your bandages?”

“Sure.” Roman stilled his bouncing, allowing Logan to lift the child’s t-shirt off his belly and assess the state of his bandages.

“They seem to have held up well,” he commented, pleased. “You bathed with them on, correct? How did they hold up against exposure to water?”

“Good. I don’t think the water got in at all,” Roman said.

“Excellent. They still need to be changed, at the very least so I can examine the wound itself, but that is good to know. How are—“

The door opened.

Roman lit up. “Virgil!”

“Hi, kid,” Virgil said lightly, closing the door behind himself. He fixed Logan with a pointed stare and crossed his arms. “Hi, babe.”

“Hello, dear,” Logan said, struggling not to laugh.

Virgil tossed something through the air towards him. “I think this is yours.”

Upon catching it, Logan discovered it to be the invisibility device. “How thoughtful of you to find that for me,” he said innocently.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Thomas interjected.

“Oh, Virgil is just very happy to see me,” Logan said, forcing down a smirk as he went to set down the invisibility device on the kitchen island for safekeeping.

Virgil came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, hooking his chin over Logan’s shoulder. “You, my love,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed to the side of Logan’s neck and speaking too quietly for Roman or Thomas to hear, “are an asshole.”

“Hmm.” Logan felt he had to concede this point. “Perhaps.” He paused. “But it was funny.”

He felt Virgil smile against his neck. “It was kind of funny,” he allowed. “After I woke up and figured out what had happened.”

“And you did say I could have first pick of the technology in the lair,” Logan added.

“Well, I somehow imagined that, like, you would let me know what you wanted and I’d give it to you,” Virgil said, sounding greatly amused. He pressed his cheek against Logan’s. “Not that you’d knock me out and go get it yourself.”

Logan turned his head to peck Virgil on the lips. “I am nothing if not proactive, dearest.” He tugged Virgil’s hands gently away from where they were still clasped around his waist. “I would like to continue attending to my patient now.”

Virgil whined in half-joking protest, but relinquished his hold on Logan with one final kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to go change out of this,” he announced, gesturing at his supersuit, and made his way down the hall to his bedroom as Logan rejoined Roman on the couch.

In short order, Logan had unbandaged Roman’s wound and begun examining it to ensure that there were no signs of infection, Roman watching with fascination all the while.

Virgil stepped back into the room moments later, now clad in a t-shirt and jeans. After an assessing look at Logan and Roman, he evidently came to the correct conclusion that Logan had matters under control. Instead of immediately joining them, he beckoned Thomas to the side and began a hushed conversation about the morning’s events.

Logan ignored this in favor of giving his attention to his young patient. Roman’s wound was doing well—exceedingly well. In fact—

“Were you aware you have superhealing?” Logan inquired of Roman.

“What?” Roman said. “I do?” He stared down at the stitches in his stomach with renewed interest and reached to poke at them.

Logan caught the child’s hand, suppressing both his initial flash of panic at the action and his sigh of relief at successfully preventing it. (Was this what parenthood was like? No wonder Janus could be so high-strung.) “Touching your injury with your bare hands could infect it. Please do not,” he instructed Roman.

“Oh.” Roman bit the inside of his cheek. “Sorry.”

“It is alright. No harm has been done, and now you know,” Logan assured him. “But to answer your question: yes, you clearly have superhealing. I would have expected this amount of progress to take a week under normal circumstances.”

“Cool!” Roman enthused, visibly forcing himself to keep his hands away from his injury as he continued to examine it.

Logan nodded, refraining from telling the boy that this was not at all an uncommon power. His state of delighted wonder was endearing, and Logan felt strongly inclined to preserve it. “How are your pain levels?” he asked instead.

“Fine,” Roman said quickly. “I’m okay. It wasn’t that bad. And I had painkillers anyway.” He hesitated. “I think it’s better today than yesterday?”

“That is encouraging news,” Logan said, filing away the it wasn’t that bad to discuss with Virgil later, because it certainly had been that bad, particularly for a child who barely qualified as tweenaged. He pulled out a cleaning wipe and began sponging carefully at the wound. “Have you noticed any other powers that you are in possession of?” he asked. Roman’s main power was clearly the glitter ability, but his secondary powers could be anything, and the number of them could vary.

“Um. I can fly?” Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t—” He hesitated, looking away; Logan suspected he was deliberating how to word his sentence. “Didn’t think it was a good idea to experiment and try and find out.” He looked back at Logan. “I just knew I could fly and make glitter stuff because I found those out by accident.”

“Hm. Well, no matter—the assessment new students undergo at Brennan is quite thorough. They will compile a full list of your powers when you enroll.” Logan glanced over at Virgil, who had just finished debriefing Thomas and sent him to do some task relating to the business with Count Ruthless. “He is being enrolled there, I assume?”

“Obviously,” Virgil said. He came over to sit on the sofa near Logan and Roman. “I was thinking we could work on that tomorrow, Roman?”

“That’s the powers school, right?” Roman asked.

“It is indeed,” Logan confirmed. He set down the wipes, satisfied with the state of Roman’s injury for the time being. “Let’s bandage this back up and check on it again in another day or two.”

“Mmkay.” Roman sat still as Logan began to rebandage the injury.

It was quiet as Logan worked. His thoughts, however, were whirring back and forth with an indecisiveness and hesitancy he rarely experienced.

His identity was secret; that was the point of it. The fewer people who knew anything about him, the better. And a child had far less secret-keeping ability than an adult.

All the same, Roman had to call him something. At this point, it seemed certain that that Logan would continue interacting with this boy on a regular basis. And he’d proven himself to be capable of discretion.

He drew in a long breath, making up his mind at last. “My name,” he said to Roman, voice quiet because he was taking such care to keep it steady, “is Logan Crofter. When I am out of costume, you may use it to address me.” Logan held Roman’s gaze and spoke firmly. “I expect that you will keep this private, and do your utmost to ensure that my name and my personal information are never associated with the title of Dr. Logic. Clear?”

Roman nodded several times, eyes wide. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

“Good.” Logan examined the bandages one last time. “These should be sufficient for the time being.”

“Thank you,” Roman said, tugging his shirt down from where it had been rucked up under his armpits. “Why is your watch trans?” he asked, staring at Logan’s hands.

Oh. That was right; the strap of Logan’s watch had the trans pride flag running along it. “Because I am a transgender man,” he said simply, shrugging.

Roman’s eyes went huge. “Wait, really?” he gasped, delighted.

“Yes.” Logan hesitated for a moment. “That is another piece of information that I expect you to keep private,” he added. “I prefer for people to know as little identifying information about Dr. Logic as possible.”

“Oh. Gotcha.” Roman nodded. “I get that,” he said, far too seriously. “You just gotta keep things secret sometimes, you know?”

Logan felt a sharp, strong ache in his chest at the seriousness of the little boy’s tone and the solemn look in his brown eyes. He reached over and cupped Roman’s warm little cheek in his hand. “Sometimes,” he agreed. “It’s better when you have friends to confide in.”

Roman made a noise of consideration. “That makes sense,” he agreed.

“Is he all good, L?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan confirmed. “He is doing very well.”

“Cool. Sounds great. Can I grab you for a minute?” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I want to talk with you about something.”

Logan raised his eyebrows at the vagueness of this phrasing. “Certainly,” he agreed.

“Awesome. Hey, Roman,” Virgil said, “why don’t you finish up this episode of She-Ra while I talk with Logan?”

Roman frowned for just an instant, and then it was gone. “Okay,” he said, voice sweet and blandly accommodating.

Virgil hesitated, brow furrowing, but did not press matters, beckoning Logan down the hall to his bedroom as Roman picked up the remote.

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @the-sympathetic-villain @just-a-little-anxious @your-local-crackhead-gremlin @remy-the-lemon-berry @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @crazydemigod666 @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @virgil-is-verge @simplestoryteller @oblivionartworks @so-youre-a-rock-with-issues @emoprincey @theblackcatscratchpost @biwithapie @poettheythem

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coconut-cluster · 5 years

Text

i really dont write logince enough

#theyre not actually logince in what im writing #but theyre alone in this scene #and their banter is just so fun!!! although as of now ro probably thinks logan is flirting with a muffin #(despite the fact that no one is flirting - with breakfast items or otherwise)#logince #(pssssst its crooked kingdom chapter 3)#lexi talks

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daised-daisy · 2 years

Note

For the dialogue prompt, could I get Logince/Roloceit/Roceit (I'm just in a Roman mood) with no. 92?

96. “What did you expect? Did you really think everything would be magically fixed?”

Ship: Roceit

Word Count: 696

Warnings: Royalty AU, argument, death mention

Summary: Roman’s royal advisor, Janus, has a couple things to get off his chest after Roman pulls a dangerous stunt for the sake of his kingdom.

Janus’s gloved hands gripped the bottom of the castle window as he gazed out at the destruction that had been ungraciously dealt upon his kingdom. He watched as construction workers, the size of ants from his perspective, slowly rebuilt crumbled and burnt down buildings. They worked diligently, and Janus had no doubts the kingdom would fully recover, but that didn’t spare him of the panic he was feeling.

“I found him.”

But that did.

Janus spun around at the sound of Virgil’s voice, letting out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since they started searching for their missing prince a few hours earlier. Now Roman stood by Virgil’s side, his gaze locked on the floor.

“Roman, what the hell were you thinking?” Janus asked. “How could you just run off like that?”

Virgil glanced down at Roman when the prince stayed silent.

“Should I tell him?” he asked. Roman shrugged. Virgil looked to Janus. “Roman was looking for this.” He handed him a page torn out from a book depicting a glossy pastel pink, purple, and blue stone. Janus glanced over the page.

“A wishing stone, huh?” he said, crumpling up the page. “Tell me, did you find one?” Roman shook his head. “Uh-huh... and do you know why you didn't find one?” Roman finally looked up, but instantly retreated upon facing Janus’s furious gaze. “Because they… don’t… EXIST!” He threw the crumbled up paper at the wall as he yelled. Roman flinched.

“I mean, what did you expect to happen? Did you really think you’d just happen upon such a powerful item and then everything would be magically fixed?” Janus ranted, pacing back and forth, combing his hand through his hair. “How could you be so careless? How could you—?”

“Janus,” Virgil said sternly. Janus stopped and looked at him, noticing the tears streaming down Roman’s cheeks. His shoulders dropped and he frowned, slowly approaching him.

“Roman,” he began in a much softer tone, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman jumped back, shrugging his hand away. He sighed. “Virgil, could you leave us?” The knight nodded and bowed to the prince before leaving.

“Listen, I know you meant well, but you must think these things through. Something could’ve happened to you. You could’ve died.”

“And why would you care? That would just mean you’d get to be king, wouldn’t it?” Roman snapped. Janus furrowed his brows.

“No, Roman,” he said, his voice wavering. “It would mean the person I hold dearest to my heart was gone forever, and I’d never get to tell him how much he means to me, and how how much I love him.” Roman looked up at Janus with wide eyes. “And I’d have to live with that for the rest of my life, and I don’t think I could do it. Not without him.”

“Janus…”

“I don’t know why you refuse to see it, Roman, but you are so much more than just a prince,” Janus continued. “To me and to your people. I may pull all the strings around here, but you give something that I could never provide. You give them hope. And that’s one of the many reasons I fell so much in love with you.”

Roman just stared with his mouth slightly agape, processing all those overwhelming words. Janus stepped back and turned away, his face reddening.

“I apologize for saying more than I should have. You can disregard the more… personal confessions,” he said. He felt a tug on his shoulder and he turned, then suddenly soft lips were pressed against his.

He stood frozen for longer than he’d care to admit before he wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as he did.

“I love you,” Roman said when they reluctantly had to pull apart to breathe. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry I don’t think things through.”

“Oh, I forgive you, darling. Just be mine and I’ll do all the thinking for both of us,” Janus said, his cares about their previous argument flying out the window as he focused only on Roman. Roman nodded.

“Yours,” he whispered before Janus kissed him again.

#roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #daisy writing

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crossiantgay · 3 years

Text

Killer Queen - Soulmate AU

A/N: I don't usually post my writing on here, but I'm feeling confident ^^. This will be a multi-chapter story, if you all like it! Anyway, enjoy!

Ships: ex-roceit, logince

tw: mention of burn scars, death mention, divorce mention (tell me if I should add anything else!)

AU - People only start aging when they meet their soulmate

Summary: Logan is a historian-- an old one at that. He gets roped into a murder investigation from the 1700s while doing research and discovers the murderer looks suspiciously like famous pop idol, Roman Prince.

Logan sighed, flipping over old document after old document. His nimble but calloused hands flipped through the pages, feeling over them with a latex-gloved hand. All a sudden, he stumbles over a document-- a death certificate. Two, actually, as he keeps digging. Which is suspicious but not unheard of as he does research about an ancient artifact. But, this is different. It’s a death certificate for a regular person. Well, they might be famous, and he doesn't know that. But even he finds that unlikely. No title next to their name, no famous last name… nothing. Why would such a, daresay, boring document come up next to the famous Ruby crown? These documents were all about the jewelers, the authentications, or who had possesed it when. But person has no ties to the crown--or anything related to it-- whatsoever. He loo at the document. Someone named Janus Saunders, died 1814. Logan was alive, he was around 30 when that happened, in that case. Died at 46, under ‘mysterious circumstances’. Oh. Under the file-- it was actually a few papers stuck together-- was a ripped and tattered police file, with something red splattered at the bottom. He went pale. He held up the paper , confirming his suspicions- nevermind, it was red nail polish. Phew. The paper was torn down the middle and the ink was faded. Judging by the rips, it was torn quickly rather than slowly or over time. He turned the paper over and saw a picture of a woman in a red dress. Correction, he thought it was red. But the photo was in black and white, so he couldn't be certain. The woman smiling next to a man in a black suit and pants with a bowtie and tophat, with scars- likely a burn scar- on the side of his face. The lady in the picture looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The lady in the picture looked young, with bright eyes and long brown hair-- uncommon for that time. Most women wore wigs out, he recalled. Personally, Logan thought it was hideous. But, he would be figuratively blue in the face- was that the expression?- If someone was able to dig up a photo of him in his ‘monocle phase’. He sighed, running a hand through his hir. He needed to know about this Janus man. He tentatively pulled out his phone- they weren’t allowed to use devices during work- and googled Janus Saunders.

“Famed thief Janus Saunders. Born 1768. Died in 1814, cause unknown. Most known for his robbery of a mass of gems and expensive jewelry at the Georgian Jewelry. Total cost of stolen items worth 5.2 million today (adjusted for inflation). He was charged in May of 1813. He is most recognizable for the burn scar on the side of his face, due to an accident as a child.”

Yep. That was definitely him.

“Wife: Cassandra Prince-Saunders (Married 1805-1813).”

Interesting. He clicked on her name. She died two years after him, fleeing from authorities. Yikes. He hated to make assumptions, but they got divorced one year before he died and she died two years later, from fleeing the police. Was it possible that for some reason she killed him, then tried to run away? He drummed his fingers on the desk. Why did the last name ‘prince’ sound so familiar? He searched up prince next, but the 90’s musician was all that came up. He sighed. He did like that man’s music, but that wasn’t it. He searched up “prince famous last name” next. Oh.

“Roman Prince, famed artist and musician, most well-known for his 2019 hit “Stars In Your Eyes”. Birthday: February 8th. Exact age: unknown. Around 20 years of age. ” He scrolled down to pictures of and what came up was a rather attractive young man, with a red streak of hair- not ginger, fire-truck red- in the front of his hair. He had sparkling green eyes and full lips. He scrolled through his videos. What first came up was his music video for his cover of Killer Queen, by Queen; the famous 70’s band and creator of Bohemian Rhapsody. He checked the volume on his phone and clicked on the video.

An electric guitar hummed in the background and the music started. He could tell there was some autotune to pitch his voice higher, to match the original version by Queen. The image slowly filled in. n old-quality filter was put over the video as the camera panned up his body. He bright red heels and thigh-highs that attatched his shorts with his socks, lacey at the top. His shorts were black and he was wearing a red crop top, red eyeliner and his signature red lip and hair. Roman gave off an almost David-Bowie vibe mixed with Taylor Swift, while still having an aesthetic all his own. Towing the line between eccentric and domestic wonderfully, in Logan’s opinion.

As the video continued, Logan realized that he had seen this video. And was also subscribed to his youtube channel. The video was spliced, showing him singing the chorus in black and white, cutting back to him lounged in a chair sipping champagne from the bottle, looking a lot messier with fake blood splattered on the walls- he was surprised at first, it almost looked real. Roman Prince was known for his creative and high-quality music videos, this was a great example.

Before he knew it, he had watched several of his videos, feeling drawn to him.

“Hey! Sanders! Back to work!” One of his colleagues snapped. He nodded a little, ducking his head and sliding his phone back in his pocket. Wait- Cassandra Prince, Roman Prince-- many were surprised when they learned that that was the pop idol’s actual name. Maybe the two were related..? He flipped the certificate over. Yeah. They looked similar.

He glanced over his shoulder and pretended like he was working. Well, technically, he was. This Janus man might have some ties to the crown and well, Roman- Mr.Prince?- might have some information or documents he could borrow. He pulled out his phone, triple-checking his colleague was gone and searched up the Prince again. No, not Prince, singer/songwriter of little red corvette- there. He clicked on the Wiki page and saw one section that particularly caught his attention.

“Business Inquiries: [email protected]”

Ah. A disney reference. Of course, he expected nothing less. He clicked on the email and started drafting a letter. He took a picture of the photo on the back of the document, attaching it to the email.

“Hello Roman Prince,

I found this photo while going through some old documents. I believe you may be related to a ‘Cassandra Prince’? I believe her husband may have ties to a historical project I am working on and I was wondering if you had any information.

Thank you for your time,

Logan Sanders

(he/him)

Historical Preservation and Restoration, Boston, LLC"

Logan sent the email and put his phone away for the final time that shift, and kept working.

@princey-daisy (I figured you might like this ^^)

if you like this, ask to be added to the taglist for this series!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #my writing #writing #fanfiction #soulmate #ts logince #logince #romantic logince #logan sanders sides #ts logan #logan sanders

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al-pomegranate-seeds · 3 years

Text

The hands they held

“Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before.The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain.“

Pairings: Logince, DLAMP in later installments

Urban fantasy

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Genderfluid Logan Sanders, Flower Shop and Tattoo Parlor au(but make it magical(not the first one to do that but I feel proud))

Warnings: Food mention(it’s Roman listing out some food and then they mentioning it after some times)

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Dot(Cartoon Therapy)

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705440

Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before. The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain. The visuals were right up his alley, though, just the right amount of dramatics one needed in their life to make it interesting. A big sign sat on top the glass doors, displaying the name “Berry’s Flowers and Herbs”.

And then, as he was lost in thought admiring and trying to see if he recognized any of the flowers, a man almost as tall as Roman himself, with deep brown hair and brown skin, wearing a simple black polo with jeans and a gardening apron, opened the door and put up a sign saying “OPEN” in dark blue letters, before turning around and inspecting the streets, and then looking directly in Roman’s direction and – holy shit.

Roman was in love.

Before we continue telling the story, let’s lay down some facts about our current favorite boy. First, Roman and Remus’ mother was an elf. Second, elves, besides a long lifespan and a somewhat inflated ego, have better working eyes than most humans. Which is how, even a street away, Roman could notice the beautiful sharp angles of the man’s face, the gorgeous silver shade of his eyes behind his square glasses, and the adorable glittering freckles that covered his face, his neck and his arms.

Roman kept gawking at the glittering man like a fish as he went back inside the shop and closed the glass doors.

“Ooooh, sweet, that’s closer than where I buy.” Remus’s voice sounded suddenly, startling Roman out of his daydreaming.

“Oh, cool.” Roman said automatically, before turning to Remus, who was cleaning his hands with a rag. Roman decided to simply not ask how he had gotten them dirty. “Hey, Rem.”

Remus imeddiately squinted. “What the fuck do you want?”

“What? Can’t a man just call his bro by a nickname to show his brotherly love?”

“You do that by calling me Trash Man, you only call me Rem when you want something, what the fuck is it?”

“Oh I wasn’t going to ask for anything, I was just going to ask if, I dunno, you maybe needed some more ingredients, maybe the ones you have are running out or something, I could maybe go pick it up for you...” Roman trailed off.

Remus just kept squinting at Roman for another 20 seconds, before flicking his eyes to some point behind him. Roman turned, only to see the man from before pushing a table on wheels with flower vases to the front of one of the big glass windows, before going back inside.

Roman could tell he was staring as the man went back inside, and when he looked back at Remus, that shithead smile was glued to his face like a dry face mask.

“Oooh, you got a cruuuuuush?” Remus said in a sing-songy voice, and Roman didn’t even have the energy to pretend to be mad, so he just kept staring at his brother’s face. “You know, now that you mention it, I think I’ve used up all of my marigolds, and I’m close to running out of rosemary...”

Roman immediately perked up. “So maybe, your very selfless and very helpful brother could pick some up for you?”

“Ah, yes, my brother who has no ulterior motives besides being helpful, of course.” Remus said, grabbing one of the sketch books before ripping out a page and writing something down. “Ok, there’s more than just what I said, I need some alyssum and some chrysantemus and some dandelions...”

“Ok, noted.” Roman said, grabbing the paper and scanning the list without actually reading it. He already remebered only the dandelion out of the flowers Remus had mentioned.

As Roman was heading out by the door, Remus screamed “Use protection!”

“I’ll murder you!” Roman screamed back cheerily.

He wasn’t prepared to enter the shop.

As soon as he step foot past the door, he realized the air felt different. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant, but it was distinctly different than the air around human populated cities. Roman was almost sure he could hear little bells, and it felt like the air was caressing his skin. The walls were covered in shelves with different plants displays, the floor was a magenta and indigo checkered tile with golden edges that somehow managed to not be obnoxious, and the ceiling was entirely glass with golden metal swirls. The space was well lit, all of the flowers in perfect display.

“Salutations.” Sounded a voice, and Roman immediately looked back to the counter that sat at the back of the store, behind which he could see the glittering man and wow, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Hello there!” Roman said, managing to hide the fact that he felt distinctively out of breath at the sight that laid before him, which he wasn’t completely sure wasn’t a hallucination.

The man’s glittering silver freckles were even more visible from this close, and Roman could also see some that were smaller, less glittery but just as breathtaking, and he also noticed that the man’s hair also glittered slightly.

“...Can I help you?”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, my brother sent me to buy some flowers, and-“ he started before realizing he didn’t actually know what to say after. “...and here is the list. With the flowers.”

He dramatically handed the list over to the man, who simply grabbed it and started Reading. A couple seconds passed before he raised an eyebrow.

“A...Kiss?”

“Whut. Wait.” Roman hastily grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the list, eventually finding the “kiss” item with a heart dotting the i. “Oh, that motherfucker knew I wasn’t going to read it, I swear this is just a prank – “

“Not to worry. Let’s simply ignore this and I’ll grab the flowers.” The man said, and set to do just that, quickly scanning the shelves and putting the flowers in clear plastic rolls.

Roman managed to stay silent for about five seconds.

“So, I don’t remember seeing the shop here yesterday.”

The man seemed to be startled for a bit, before answering “You wouldn’t have, we moved in during the night.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed before looking for something else to say. “We?”

“...Yes. Me and my parents. My mother and I run the shop.”

“Oh, marvelous, so it’s a Family business! You know, me and my brother run the tattoo parlor across the street, we do tattoos with various magical properties. You should come visit, my name is Roman, I use he/him pronouns, and my brother is Remus, he/him pronouns too.”

“...Logan. He/him today.” He – Logan – said, turning to the dandelions. “Are you always such a conversationalist when buying flowers?”

That made Roman pause.

“Oh, um, I hadn’t – Am I making your uncomfortable?”

“Not to worry, I am simply not used to such...Friendly customers. But this is pleasant.”

Roman sighed relieved.

“I am not opposed to visiting your parlor, if you’ll have me.”

He simply smiled.

“Well hello there!” Roman said, opening the glass doors and spotting Logan behind the counter, like last time.

“Salutations, Roman. They/them today.” Roman nodded, leaning on the counter.

“So, how’s the day going for you, Specs?”

Logan went a few moments without answering, probably because of the nickname. “Pleasant enough. A few customers have come by. None of them was unpleasant.”

“That’s indeed pleasant.” Roman turned around, leaning on the counter with his hips now, looking around at the shop, and noticing the flowers on his left looked more perfect than a lot of flowers he had seen in his life. “Hey, Logan, did you do something to those flowers over there?”

Logan seemed to perk up a bit. They fixed their glasses before answering. “Indeed. Those are flowers I separate for decorations, I enchant them to stay alive for longer. This enchantment can mess with cooking and potions, however, so I always ask before picking them.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hadn’t thought of that.” They stayed silent then, Roman zoning out as he looked at the flowers and spun his necklace on his finger. “Hey Specs, how old are you?”

“I – Well.” Logan started, before pausing and thinking more. “I’m forty years old, technically, but I’m a fairy, so I haven’t grown beyond being what humans would consider twenty five to twenty nine.”

“Oh, you’re a fairy?”

“Well, quarter fairy. My father is half fairy, my mother is human. They had me when mother was twenty seven years old, and I grew up in the same speed as a human until I was around twenty four years.”

“Marvelous. I’m half elf. I’m thirty four years old, and yeah, basically around that age. I would still be a teenager if both of my parents were elves.”

They stayed in silence for a few minutes.

“Roman, do you...Do you like outer space?”

“Well, yeah.” Roman said, before turning back to Logan. “I don’t know a lot, but I think it’s fascinating.”

“Would you...” They swallowed, then, sounding nervous. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Of course. Tell me everything you know.”

Logan smiled, then, with barely restrained excitement, and Roman felt like he could listen to them for hours if they would always smile like that.

“Hello there, my favorite nerd!” Roman said, entering the shop with his his arms spread and holding a paper bag.

“Salutations, Roman. She/her today. Do you bring anything besides your dramatic entrance?” Logan said, with a small smile that never failed to make Roman lose his train of thought for a few seconds.

“I sure do, Smarty McSpecson, I bring sustenance!” He laid the paper bag on the counter. “It’s a bowl of goose stew with mushrooms, fruit salad with honey, aaaaaaaand pork filled buns.”

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have the buns.”

“Marvelous! I’ll eat some of the stew. I’ve got homemade mayonnaise too, if you’d like to add it.” Then he went to open the bag.

“Wait. Mother will take over the shop for this afternoon, so I’m free in ten minutes. There is a small kitchen in the back, and I think it would be pleasant to eat on a table instead of this counter.”

“Oh, that would be cool.” Roman said, trying to play it cool. It almost felt like she was inviting him on a date, but surely that wouldn’t be it? Logan was just nice like that. She was also very direct and probably would be forward in asking for a date. Yeah.

“Come on, it’s behind this door over here.” Roman then followed Logan into the aforementioned door, finding a small kitchen that seemed to be decorated with a light yellow color scheme. All the counters and cabinets were light yellow, the counters having white tops, the fridge and the stove were both black, and the floor tile was white. The kitchen was pretty small, only wide enough to fit a small round table and two chairs, and there was a floor to ceiling rectangular glass window behind one of the chairs.

“You can sit down while I get mother, I’m sure she won’t be incovenienced to come down ten minutes early.” Logan said while getting some plates and bowls from the cabinets, then laying them on the table.

“Ok. I’ll be here waiting.” Roman said, sitting on the chair facing the window. He may or may not have been thinking about how gorgeous Logan would look framed by the window and the plants outside.

Logan stepped into a door that led to a white staircase, leaving Roman to think and analyze the small kitchen.

Now that he had the opportunity to pay attention, he could notice little things he hadn’t noticed when he first entered the kitchen : the white countertops were stained at some spots with some sort of colorful pigment, there was a black paper on which someone drew constellations with white crayon, and there was a clear glass cookie jar filled with dried flowers on one counter.

About five minutes later, Logan came back with who Roman assumed was her mother, a chubby, dark skinned lady with short black hair wearing a beige argyle sweater over a white button up and beige skirt, plus a pair of red glasses and bright red lipstick. He noticed Logan seemed distinctly more glittery around the face.

“Oh hello there dear, you must be the famed Roman!” The lady said, rushing over to him and grabbing his hands. “I’m Dot, this one’s mom, I’ve heard so many things about you – “

“Mother...” Logan said with a warning tone, her voice not managing to hide her embarassment.

“Oh Logan talked about you so much, you’re every bit as handsome as she described – “

“Mother!” Logan exclaimed, and now her face was shining so much it looked like it was encrusted with tiny gems. Roman was almost hipnotized enough to not realize that was probably her way of blushing.

“What? It’s true! He’s as handsome as sherpherd pie!” Dot responded, and Roman was as confused as he was flattered.

“Mother, that’s not – forty seven years of marriage, and that’s what you pick up of father’s vocabulary?” Logan said, bafflement not being able to hid the awfully fond tone of her voice.

“Oh don’t pick on me, you know I’m telling the truth.” Dot said, before looking at the shop. “Oh dear, I better get started on that shop running thing.” She said, before kissing Roman and Logan’s cheeks and stepping out into the shop, closing the kitchen door.

They stayed silent froma few moments before Logan sighed.

“I love my mother, but she can be a bit overwhelming. I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

“Oh, she didn’t bother me at all. So, um, as handsome as shepherd pie?” Roman asked, still a bit baffled by the term.

“It’s an expression father uses. It’s an equivalent translation coming from the faery language my father’s specific nation spoke. It’s a bit outdated, but it was used most often to describe someone the person was attracted to. Of course,” Logan said all of this while grabbing the cuttlery and sitting down on the other chair. She paused while adjusting herself on the chair, before continuing with a fondly amused smile. “she wasn’t hitting on you, don’t worry.” Logan went to grab the pork buns, while murmuring to herself low enough that, if Roman wasn’t part elf, he surely wouldn’t have been able to hear it. “Not for herself, at least.”

“Not for herself?” Roman asked. Logan’s eyes went wide as saucers, and she almost dropped the bun she was holding.

“Oh you – you heard that?” Logan asked, adjusting her glasses (which Roman had noticed was a bit of a tic of hers). Her face, that had gone back to the normal amount of glittering, suddenly was shiny enough that Roman wanted to grab her face and kiss her senseless.

“If it’s any comfort, I only heard because elven hearing is a stronger than humans’. But seriously, what did you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing important, it’s silly, it’s just – mother is certain you have been flirting with me, you see, and no matter how much I tell her she’s being foolish, she won’t quit putting these thoughts into my head, and I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t even felt like these before but then she mentioned it and I couldn’t stop thinking about how handsome you are and how nice you are and how you made an effort to befriend me when we had just moved in and I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t have any energy to go out and make friends – “ she was rambling now, her speech getting more fast paced and anxious the longer Roman went without saying anything.

Well. She seemed to think Roman wasn’t interested. He had to do something about that.

Logan was gesturing wildly with her hands, moving them up and down in an effort to calm herself, so Roman grabbed one of them in an effort to effectively distract her.

“So,” he said, laying their hands down palms up on the table and drawing tiny circles on the wrist. “I most definitely was flirting. I most definitely think you are very handsome and very nice. And I most definitely think you are as handsome as shepherd pie.”

Logan was silent for a few moments before saying, with a slight breathless note on her voice, “...oh.”

“Yeah.” Roman said, before bringing Logan’s hand up his mouth and kissing the palm.

Logan giggled. She honest to ghosts, real as magic, giggled.

“So,” Roman said, putting their hands back on the table. “do you want to try this?”

“I – most definitely.” She answered, nodding quickly with a smile on her face.

They started eating, then, and nothing changed but the hands they held and the soft smiles.

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors

#logince #fluff #getting together #logan sanders #roman sanders #genderfluid logan sanders #urban fantasy #elf roman sanders #fairy logan sanders #sanders sides #unicia

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Soulmate Masterlist

Main masterlist here

My unfinished (for now!) Soulmate September 2020, prompts created by the lovely @tsshipmonth2020. You can bet your butt I’m gonna make these angsty wherever possible.

Oh, when will my muse return from war?

Day 1: Logince. Soulmate’s name on your wrist, flower shop/tattoo artist AU.

Day 2: Roceit. Timer that counts down to when you meet your soulmate.

Day 3: Prinxiety. An animal only you and your soulmate can see.

Day 4: Anxceit. A trail of color only you can see marks where your soulmate has been.

Day 5: Logicality. When your soulmate feels strong emotions, the other does too.

Day 6: Intruality. When your soulmate feels pain, the other does too. (TW)

Day 7: Roman x unknown (Creativitwins focus). String tied around your finger that connects to your soulmate.

Day 8: Moceit. You get colder the further you are from your soulmate.

Day 9: Intruloceit (pt 1). When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Day 10: Dukexiety. You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate

Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2). The happy ending sequel to day 9.

Day 12: Prinxiety. You meet your soulmate in your dreams each night.

Day 13: Logince. Everyone is born with a super power, but when soulmates are together their powers are nullified by each other. Hero/villain AU.

Day 14: Dukeceit. The first words your soulmate says are written on you.

Day 15: Logicality. It’s impossible to lie to your soulmate.

Day 16: Prinxiety (MIMH* pt 1). When your soulmate listens to music, you hear it in your head.

Day 17: Royality. One eye is your natural color, and the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.

Day 18: Pending

Day 19: Prinxiety (MIMH pt 3, TW). Day 21 continued (yeah I know it’s out of order leave me alone)

Day 20: Moxiety. You can send one item to your soulmate every year.

Day 21: Prinxiety (MIMH pt 2, TW). Virgil’s perspective of day 16.

Day 22: Dukexiety. When you close your eyes, you see what your soulmate sees.

Day 23: Dukceit. You switch bodies with your soulmate at a certain time.

Day 24: Prinxiety. When you meet your soulmate, you see a flash forward of your future.

Day 25: Pending

Day 26: Parental Moxiety. You can’t see one color until you look into your soulmate’s eyes.

Day 27: Intrulogical (TW). Your eyes match your soulmate’s hair.

Day 28: Pending

Day 29: Prinxiety (MIMH pt 4). The finale of Days 16, 21, and 19.

Day 30: Dukexiety. When you look in a mirror, you only see your soulmate.

All ‘pending’ days will be completed as soon as possible!

*MIMH refers to the Music in My Head Universe, masterlist HERE

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captainpufferfish · 3 years

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thinking abt,,,logince

logince where roman collects tangle stim toys and whenever he has sensory overload logan is there to give him the right one and sit with him until he feels better

logince where on days that logan starts to doubt themselves on their abilities as logic, roman is there to reassure them that they’re doing just fine

logince where roman likes to come up with pet names for logan but the only one that really stuck was Etérea because not only does it mean ethereal, it sounds a lot like etheria from spop and they are both.huge cartoon nerds okay. also roman thought the reaction logan made when they first heard it was v cute and ‘hey everyone look at my adorable enbyfriend i love them sm’

logince who sit together in logan’s room after pof writing angsty poetry and diss tracks for janus because they’re both sad but haha poetry

logince where they both have problems sleeping so they’ll go into each other’s rooms and watch toh or spop and have pillow fights and paint each other’s nails and spray-dye their hair really bright colours and let go of all their responsibilities as they end up playfully wrestling bcz roman ate logan’s crofters and it’s not much but it’s theirs and thats all that matters

logince where they subtly stick up for each other during episodes by doing a bit or making a flashcard joke or faking an argument for fun so they don’t have to deal with anyone else talking to them

logince where when everything gets better between the sides, will probably have to deal with a lot of being made fun of (affectionately) by virgil and remus because remus is taking his older-by-sixty-nine seconds role Very Seriously and virgil kind of went fuck it logan ur my bro now. no u dont have a choice. and now they have this chaotic thing but it works, somehow

logince where logan loves both collecting crystals and steven universe, and one day roman gifts them a sapphire pendant and shyly shows him his own ruby bracelet, muttering something about how he thought that logan would appreciate the reference and the crystals, blushing furiously until logan lets out a sniff and starts crying (spoiler alert: for once it’s the good crying because they can’t believe that everything went wrong but everything turned out okay and they are loved for themself.)

logince where whenever roman joins logan when they’re working they get completely side tracked because roman keeps making hackerman jokes and it’s one of the only memes logan fully gets and now they’re making some dumbass edit of roman as hackerman on photoshop how did they get here???

logince where for their one year anniversary janus just sends them two links- one of them is to a ‘5 minutes of logince being real in ts sides eps’ vids, and the other is a link to a google drive called ‘haha simps’ which has two items in it, and all that they are is each other’s reactions to their skirt photoshoots. they are.scared because how tf did janus get those and also. hhh janus has had those for over a year is this blackmail

i just,,,them <3

#nobody cares.jpeg #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #sanders sides #this is how i get my serotonin now #anyways feel free to add anything on #aya dni #this is me projecting onto both of them #bcz i love them #tw crying #but happy crying #tw sensory overload #nb!logan #do i tag this adhd roman if its entirely based off me and i dont have a diagnosis?#idk man #long post

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Connection

Prompts: Hey if you’re doing requests could you write a Roman centric fluffy fic with all of the other sides flirting with him. Except for remixes obviously. Have a great day or night. - mouse2004

Hello! So I saw this tik tok of refuse where items explaining how Roman raised remus to be a soldier not a bitch when someone asks why he so violent, and then the comments took it further and said how Roman would be an older brother raising remus and I though that was cool prompt idea for you if your interested. I absolutely love your writing and all your series! I hope you have a great day! - anon

Hey amazing writer! Love your work to the sky! I was re-reading some of your old works and came across some of the wonderful platonic (or romantic) flirting pieces that were the first pieces I read from you. So in the spirit of new years nostalgia that’s hitting me right now I was wondering if you would take my request of making another piece like that. Something similar to the first chapter of unwanted, or hot mess. All the precious gushiness warms my cold soul. Anyway just a suggestion you could combine with any prompts you want or simply ignore if you’re not in the mood. - anon

look at some point my ability to bullshit whatever the fuck flirting is supposed to be is going to run out and you're all going to be very disappointed

it might be this one. will it be? who knows! not me!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: royality, logince, prinxiety, roceit

Word Count: 2718

Trying to raise your brother by yourself while supporting the both of you through school is...no mean feat. Especially when you've both got absolutely no idea what you're doing. But they have each other, and that's all that matters.

At least, that's what Roman's telling himself.

Someone long ago told him that animals learn their most important survival skills when they're first born. Fish learn to swim, horses learn to run, and so on and so forth. Babies cry; our most important survival skill is learning to ask for help.

If he just reaches out, it'll all be okay.

There’s a really cute guy who catches the bus at the same time as Roman.

Like…really cute. He’s got these big round glasses that make him look like a Studio Ghibli character in the best way possible and he wears this baby blue pea coat and he’s got the happiest little bounce to him when he’s listening to music waiting for the bus.

And he does the thing that people in movies do where they wave good morning at you when they see you in the street. He also has dimples. He’s really cute.

And so maybe it makes Roman a bit more incentivized to catch the bus on time because he gets to stand there with this really cute stranger.

Of course, life happens, and sometimes he misses the bus. He misses it really bad one morning because he sleeps in when he can’t remember what day it is and ends up just making it to class on time.

He did all his homework and he knows the answer to every question the professor asks but still.

So he makes sure to set his alarm properly the next morning so he doesn’t miss the bus.

It doesn’t help that maybe he missed seeing the cute stranger and doesn’t want to miss that either.

He sets out on time the next day and can’t help but smile when he sees the familiar blue coat. He walks a little faster and ducks under the stop’s roof, checking his phone to make sure that yes, it should be coming in about five minutes.

“Oh, hey!”

He looks up. The cute stranger is smiling at him. Repeat, cute stranger smiling at Roman. “Uh, hi?”

“I missed you yesterday,” he says like Roman’s just supposed to be able to deal with that, “I was worried when I didn’t see you. You’re normally so punctual.”

“Uh, yeah, I, uh, overslept.”

Cute stranger said he missed him and was worried when he didn’t see him? Excuse me?

“It’s good to see you again.” Cute stranger has dimples. “I…um…god, that’s embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“I…may or may not have gotten used to waiting for you, so…I take this bus instead of the later one.”

Cute stranger looks really cute when he’s all blushy. Roman is going to die. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about that, I do it too.”

Cute stranger’s eyes widen. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s like, the highlight of my morning, getting to stand here with you.”

Cute stranger promptly squeaks which is illegally adorable, and covers his mouth with his hands. “Oh, that’s so great!”

Roman chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Can I get your number? Oh, sorry, is that too much? I just—you seem really cool and I want to, um, actually get to know you.”

Roman will happily give his number to cute strangers who want to know him better. “Sure. What’s your name? I can’t just call you ‘cute stranger’ in my phone.”

“Oh, goodness…I’m Patton.”

“Patton, huh? I’m Roman.” He holds his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

The irony is they almost miss the bus when it comes a few minutes later.

——————————

Roman really needs to pay attention in this class. It’s a higher-level math class that he can never remember the full name of, and if he’s going to keep his scholarship, he needs to be able to keep his grades up. Which means he can’t afford to zone out and daydream because he needs to focus.

The unfairly attractive person who sits right next to him is making that difficult.

Look, if you looked up ‘hot nerd,’ this is pretty much what comes up. Sharp features, always looks like they’ve stepped out of the courtroom or out of some library where they’ve been digging up answers to obscure questions, glasses that sit halfway down their nose…

See what he means? He should be focusing on whatever equations are on the board right now and not the hot nerd next to him.

Blessedly, the professor ends the lecture a bit early that day to give them time to work on the homework and Roman pulls his notes toward him, wincing at how messy his writing had gotten about halfway through. He takes out the textbook and the homework and starts trying to struggle through it.

It might as well be some code he can’t solve for all the progress he’s getting.

When he works himself into a corner for the fifth time in as many minutes, he pinches the bridge of his nose and looks helplessly at it. He’s so going to fail this class.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s against the rules of the classroom we established at the beginning of the semester.”

Roman whips his head around to see the hot nerd smirking at him. Nope. No, this is not fair. He is supposed to be preoccupied by failing this class, thank you. “I—um—“

Hot Nerd chuckles—rude—and nods to Roman’s paper. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I’m gonna fail this class and lose my scholarship, other than that I’m good.”

“Dramatic, are we?”

“I am a theater kid, of course.”

“My mistake.”

No, Roman’s mistake was talking to him because now Hot Nerd is leaning closer and looking down at Roman’s work.

“You’re doing fine,” he says, “you just need to finish doing it by parts.”

“By what now?”

Hot Nerd glances over at him. “What…the professor just went over. Were you not paying attention?”

“I was trying to. I just kept getting distracted!”

“By what?”

Roman’s mouth slams shut. “You know…things.”

Hot Nerd thankfully doesn’t press but then he’s reaching across to grab his own pencil and scooting even closer to Roman. “Look…see, you’ve already got it started. You solved this one just fine, but then you tried to do it again and you got stuck, right?”

Roman is far too distracted to be paying attention right now, but then Hot Nerd is looking up at him and raising an eyebrow.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

“Right, right, sorry. Uh—“ he looks back down— “yeah, if I integrate that again, I just get back to here. Then I can’t actually do anything ‘cause there’s two of them.”

“Right. So you need to do one part and then the other.”

“How?”

“Substitute this in for this, then use this equation…”

Roman zones the fuck out because Hot Nerd is still leaning into his space and pressing against his shoulder and what’s going on again? He only belatedly realizes he’s staring at hot nerd and not at the paper when Hot Nerd pauses and looks up at him.

“Darling,” he says softly, “focus.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you do that?”

“The sooner you focus, the sooner you can finish these, and I can ask for your phone number. Come on, I know you can do it.”

This is unfair. This is unfair and rude and Roman did nothing to deserve this. Still, he doggedly picks up the pencil and does his best not to mix up all the letters he has to keep track of.

He does end up finishing the homework before the end of class and leaves with a free evening and Logan’s number in his phone.

——————————

Any sensible college kid knows that you befriend the barista at your local coffee shop so that when you come in a mess needing caffeine desperately you don’t put them off by being an absolute train wreck about it.

Luckily for Roman, the barista that’s always working during his afternoon mad dash across campus is the fucking best.

For one, he’s the only one who will actually quip back at entitled customers who think it’s a good idea to treat people like servants and he’s ended up trending a few times for the legendary lines he comes up with. For another, he’s got that safe queer energy that makes all the baby queers instinctively flock to the shop on his shifts.

For a third, he’s fucking pretty.

Come on, the eyeshadow is always perfect, his hair is dyed almost every time Roman sees him, and he manages to make the boring aprons look like some NPC in a video game that you have to trade with to get the best items.

And he’s got a nickname for Roman.

“Heya, Princey,” he calls as Roman pushes open the door, “you want your ungodly amount of sugar?”

“You know me.”

“I do, which is why I’m recommending that maybe you try a different drink so all those pearly whites don’t fall out of your face.”

“I’ll have you know my dentist is perfectly happy with the state of my teeth.”

He chuckles. “Uh-huh. Two-forty.”

Roman swipes his student card and scrubs a hand over his face. “Thanks, Virgil.”

“Hey, no problem. The less time I have to deal with people who don’t know what they want, the better. Besides—“ he leans on the counter— “it’s a slow part of the day anyway. The room in the back’s not even full yet.”

Ah. That’s right. Another reason why Virgil’s great. There’s a room in the back of the coffee shop where the old Internet cafe used to be—this is an old building, okay—and he’s turned it into like, this safety room? It’s super quiet, there are a bunch of beanbags and blankets, it’s great if you’re super stressed and need a place to crash that isn’t your dorm. And you get drinks.

“Really?”

“Really.” He grins up at him. “I know you probably gotta sprint to a class, but you could also hang out for a while if you want. ’S just me.”

“Coffee shop where you work, huh? Swanky first date.”

“I’ll even buy you a drink.”

Roman laughs, but then Virgil actually goes back into the computer and refunds Roman’s drink.

“Wait, what?”

He just winks and goes off to make it, like Roman’s just supposed to deal with this now.

…he can miss his next class.

——————————

“How much does a polar bear weigh?”

Roman rolls his eyes at the cheesy pickup line, setting aside his book. “Enough to break the ice, why?”

He turns and looks up at the person who said it and oh, hello.

Said person is much too well-dressed to be standing in a college library with a long black coat that makes him look a bit like an anime protagonist. Like a cross between some mysterious technology genius in a sci-fi story and a fantasy butler.

What is my life?

Tall dark and handsome raises an eyebrow and gestures at the seat across from Roman with a—who wears gloves inside anymore? Who cares, they work for him—gloved hand. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He sits down and folds his hands and just stares at Roman. “I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, no, I’m—I’m disturbable.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He takes off one of his gloves—Roman is not some Victorian maiden swooning at the sight of his wrist—and holds out his hand. “Janus.”

“Roman.”

“A pleasure.”

Did this guy like, stumble out of some fictional universe? He fucking brings Roman’s hand up to kiss it, Roman is in fact going to perish in this library seat right now.

“I’m not in the habit of doing this,” he says easily like he isn’t melting Roman into a puddle right now, “but I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

“Um…why?”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “You’re stunning, sweetie.”

He chuckles again when Roman reacts to that quite reasonably by turning bright red.

“And stunnable, I see.” He sets Roman’s hand on the table, still held in his, rubbing gently with his thumb. “Am I being too much?”

Yes, but don’t you dare fucking stop. “N-no, I just—you just surprised me.”

“Do you expect me to believe no one’s asked you out to dinner before?”

“Not like this, no.”

“I suppose I shall have to be your first, then.” And the bastard winks.

“Not before dinner, you won’t.”

“No, I suppose that’s fair. Shall I leave you in peace, then, to finish your book?”

“You can stay if you want. But I might take a while.”

“Dense literature?”

“You’re distracting.”

“This doesn’t seem like a problem.”

“It is if I don’t want to fail the test I have on Friday.”

He doesn’t fail the test, but that’s only because he’d have to make it up when he’s supposed to be having dinner with Janus.

——————————

“Re? Re, I’m home!”

Remus sticks his head around the corner. “Ro-bro! How was your day?”

“Fine. Are you hungry?”

“A little, but I gotta finish my homework first.”

Roman smiles and hangs up his coat, quickly coming around the corner of their little studio apartment to the kitchen. He checks the fridge and pulls out one of the takeout containers. “You still in the mood for Chinese?”

“Ooh, yes. Just as soon as I finish explaining why this character’s a fucking idiot.”

“Are you still reading Waiting for the Barbarians?”

“Yes, and I want to punch this bitch.”

“Please tell me those aren’t your notes.”

“My notes are whatever help me remember the shit I need. If I need to write that Colonialist Bastard thinks that getting slapped on the wrist makes him like the woman he’s objectifying to remember how the colonel fetishizes and objectifies suffering because of how his bureaucratic life has become mundane and outdated, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“…that’s my little brother.”

“You know it.”

Roman rolls his eyes fondly and ruffles Remus’s hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here. Let me work. You get hit on again today?”

“I should never have told you about that.”

“You’re building a harem, is what you’re doing.”

“I am not!”

“So they all know about each other? They know there’s others vying to get a piece of you?”

“Remus!”

“What? Do they?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, I’m sure they know each other, we all go to the same school.”

Remus looks up with a grin. “You’ve got so many people after you, Ro, I should vet them. Give them the shovel talk about what’s gonna happen to them if they hurt you. With my shovel.”

“If you lose your scholarship over threatening my friends—“

“Worth it.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Remus sighs dramatically—Roman knows where he gets it— “fine. But you better invite them over here so I can meet them.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to finish your homework or not?”

Remus turns back to his work, grumbling all the while. Roman looks at him for another moment, a soft smile coming to his face.

As long as he’s got his brother, he’s got all the love and support he needs.

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #fic

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anxiousgaypanicking · 3 years

Text

Writing Masterpost!

a culmination of everything i’ve written; both consecutive stories and individual shots.

rules for requesting here

my ao3 here

commission info here

---

Sanders Sides

-------------------------- Fluff --------------------------

Comfort Items (Intrulogical/Roceit) Twin princes were cursed to become mere stuffed animals - comfort items - until they could learn to love and be loved in every sense of the word. - Part One: Dumpster Diving - Part Two: Reunited - Part Three: Baggage Oreo (Prinxiety) As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. - Part One: Dickbucket (Derogatory) - Part Two: Lost An Oreo - Part Three: Pain And Plans - Part Four: Wonderful - Part Five: Oversleeping

Volleyball Logan AU (Intrulogical/Logince) Logan plays competitive volleyball for his school, and ends up being thrown into a love corner with each of the twins pursuing his attention. - Setting and Swooning - An Awkward Interaction

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Deprivation (Intrulogince) - Radio Hosts (Roceit/Intrulogical) - Mute (Intrulogical/Platonic Intrulogical) - Book Signing; Radio Hosts AU (Roceit/Intrulogical) - Three Years Later, The Coffin Was Still Full Of Jell-O (Platonic Demus) - At That Moment, He Wasn’t Listening To Music; He Was Living An Experience (Platonic/Romantic Analogical)

-------------------------- Angst --------------------------

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Unsafe Binding (Trans Logan) - Manipulation (Janus Therapy Arc)

-------------------------- Smut --------------------------

What You Need (Intrulogical) Logan is a struggling college student who’s barely getting by. Desperate for a way to pay for necessities, he finds himself a sugar daddy. - Masterlist

Hypnovember 2020 A month of hypnosis prompts. - Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 A month of kinktober prompts. - Masterlist

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Masterlist (Part One) - Masterlist (Part Two)

Hunger Hurts (DLAMP) Janus is an old-fashioned vampire, living secluded in an archaic mansion past the outskirts of town. On one particular night, four intruders decide to snoop around his house, leaving Janus delighted at the opportunity of a few free meals. However, he decides he has plenty of time to play with the group before killing them to satisfy his own gluttony, and so decides to keep them around as his temporary pets… nothing more, nothing less. - Masterlist

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Good Omens

-------------------------- Smut --------------------------

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Masterlist

---

Spooky Month

-------------------------- Angst --------------------------

M&Ms And Melatonin After being attacked, mutilated, and forced to watch as people passed by him assuming he was nothing more than a living prop, Streber suffers the after-effects of assault and learns to deal with post traumatic stress disorder, being aided all the while by his guilt-ridden boyfriend Kevin who is internally ashamed due to the fact he wasn't there when Streber needed him most. Adding to this is the fact that they're both fairly certain they're being haunted and hunted by a familiar face... - Prologue

---

TMNT (2012)

-------------------------- Angst --------------------------

Loyalty And Fraternity Following the aftermath of Splinter's death, the turtles attempt to clean up random mutagen spills in order to both protect the city, and keep their minds away from their grief. However, when one of them is kidnapped by the foot clan and held captive by a brutish Shredder, the others must overcome their situation and themselves in order to save their brother before it's too late. - Part One

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

Text

if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you - chapter 10

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, platonic/parental Prinxiety and Logince Warnings: Language, discussion of child abuse established in previous chapters. Word count: 3746

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

–

Chapter 10

Virgil closed the door behind them. “Okay.” He immediately began pacing around the room. “You might be mad at me. But I’m not changing my mind.”

“About what, precisely?” Logan inquired, taking a seat in the armchair in the corner.

Virgil stopped pacing, faced Logan, and drew in a long breath. “I’m not sending Roman back to his parents.”

Logan was silent, waiting for the exposition that was undoubtedly about to be provided.

“I mean, I’ve been worried something was wrong for a while now,” Virgil went on, resuming his pacing and gesturing to emphasize his words as he spoke. “But I know I overthink things, so I wasn’t sure I was thinking clearly at first. But after yesterday I was pretty certain. And now I know, and I won’t send him back to them. I won’t let them near him, actually. Ever again, if I can help it. Not unless I see some solid proof that it’s safe to do so. Which at this point I would be shocked by. He says he doesn’t think he’s safe with them. And that they’re transphobic and anti-super. And that they keep him home from school as a form of punishment. And—“

“Virgil,” Logan interjected. This was getting out of hand.

Virgil cut off with a sharp inhale. “What?”

“I believe you have adequately made your point and are now working yourself up.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I just—“ Virgil dragged a hand over his face. “He spent twenty seconds on the phone with his dad and then had a panic attack. Because his dad was cursing him out. Which Roman told me is normal. What kind of person would do that? To their own kid? When he’d gone missing after a villain attack, no less!”

Logan’s heart clenched in his chest. “That… is highly disturbing,” he acknowledged, his voice not quite as even as he was usually able to keep it.

“So I’m not sending him back. He said he wants to stay here. I have the space, and time, and resources, to take care of him.” Virgil crossed his arms. “I don’t care if it’s technically kidnapping, I will fight you if you try and make me send him away.”

Logan waited a beat to ensure Virgil had said his piece. “Why would I do that?” he asked once he was certain it was his turn.

“Uh.” Virgil seemed caught off-guard. “…Because you said last night that you ‘couldn’t let that slide’ and would have to interfere if I didn’t send him back?”

“You will recall that that was before I learned the details about his home life,” Logan pointed out. “Of course I agree that the right course of action is to remove a child from an abusive situation, Virgil.”

“…Oh,” said Virgil, in a tone that suggested he now felt very stupid.

Logan gave him a small smile of reassurance. “I would advise that we look into whether he has family members who could adequately care for him before determining to care for him here,” he suggested, “but I agree that it is more than reasonable to protect him from his parents given the circumstances.”

Virgil huffed slightly at Logan’s suggestion, but relaxed nonetheless. “Alright.” He crossed his arms. “But he said he wants to stay here.”

“Nevertheless, I would strongly advise that we check if he has safe family members. At the very least they should be informed of his situation. And it might be better for him, much as I can see you dislike this idea.” Logan rather disliked the idea himself, but he was of the opinion that his feelings ranked far below a child’s wellbeing.

Virgil frowned. “Fine. If it makes you happy.”

“It will indeed,” Logan said. “Is there anything else?”

“Oh.” Virgil picked something up off the dresser. “Would you take this and see if there’s actually any sort of tracking installed on it?” He pressed the item, which turned out to be a flip phone, into Logan’s hands. “His dad threatened him with it. If that wasn’t just empty talk, can you disable any GPS or anything?”

“Certainly.” Logan pocketed the phone. “If I can make use of one of your workshops, it should take me no more than ten minutes.”

“Good. Great. Thank you. And you can give it back to him when you’re done. I mean, obviously I’m getting him a better one, but I don’t want to take anything away from him.” Virgil made as if to head for the door, then paused. “Oh, and another thing, he said this morning that he wants to go on puberty blockers, but I’d appreciate it if you’d talk with him about it too. You know more about it than I do.”

“Certainly,” Logan repeated. He raised his voice a bit. “Shall we go attend to that, then?”

Virgil blinked, clearly confused by the change in Logan’s tone, even as Logan heard the tiniest scuffing noise in the hall outside, confirming his suspicions. It was quiet enough that he was sure he would not have heard it if he had not been paying close attention.

“…Sure?” Virgil said. “What was that for?”

Logan beckoned him over. “I am almost certain that Roman was listening at the door,” he murmured when Virgil drew close. “I thought it best to alert him to leave, so that he would not fear he would be ‘caught.’”

“Oh. Ohhh,” Virgil said. “Cool. Got it.”

By the time Virgil and Logan made their way out to the living room, Roman was sitting on the couch, the picture of innocence, seeming totally absorbed in his show.

Logan sat beside him. “Roman. May I have a word with you?”

“Sure,” Roman said, reaching at once for the remote and pausing the show. “What’s up?”

Logan considered the order he wished to present his questions in. The discussion about puberty blockers would probably take longer, and was to his mind slightly less pressing. It could wait for a little while—after dinner might be an ideal time to go over it. By process of elimination, that left—“Do you have family members other than your parents?”

Roman froze, stiffening, and his face went blank. “No.”

Logan paused, evaluating this reaction, then tried again. “It’s fine if you don’t want to be around them. You don’t have any extended family?”

Roman bit his lip, looking very anxious indeed. “I… think I had a Gran,” he said after a minute. “But she died when I was really little.”

Logan got the distinct impression that Roman was holding something back. “No aunts or uncles?” he prodded. “No other grandparents?”

Roman shook his head, relaxing, and spoke much more readily. “Dad doesn’t have brothers or sisters.”

“What about your mother?” Logan inquired. “Does she have relations?”

Roman hesitated, but still showed none of the uneasiness of a moment ago. “I… dunno. She gets mad if I ask.”

“Hm.” Logan considered this. “And you have no other family relations that you know of?”

Roman’s face went blank again and the stiffness returned to his shoulders. “No,” he insisted, much more firmly. He avoided Logan’s gaze.

Logan hesitated for a long moment. “Very well,” he said at last, not particularly happy to let the matter go but not willing to push Roman further when he was so clearly unwilling to talk about whatever on earth was making him react in this way. “Would you like me to investigate your mother’s family connections?”

Roman hesitated, then shook his head. “I want to stay here,” he said in a small voice. “I don’t want to go away. I wouldn’t even know those people if you found them.”

“Cool. You’re staying, then,” Virgil interjected firmly.

“Virgil….” Logan sighed.

“What? He answered your questions. He wants to stay here. I want him to stay here. I can tell you want him to stay here, too. So what’s the problem?”

“Well—“ Logan paused to consider. “This is not an objectionable situation,” he admitted. “I just want to make sure that we are all confident this is the best option for Roman.”

“Great,” Virgil said. “He’s staying. Roman, we’ll sort out school stuff—normal school and Brennan—tomorrow, sound good? And we can go shopping. Make sure you have everything you need. Good plan?”

Roman, eyes wide, nodded. “Really good plan.”

“Great,” Virgil repeated. He let out a long sigh, relaxing. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m exhausted. I’m ordering takeout for dinner. Do either of you have opinions on what we should get?”

“Can we get pizza?” Roman asked at once, looking delighted. “With lots of stuff on it?”

“Babe, does pizza sound good?” Virgil inquired, in a tone that suggested pizza ought to be the best food Logan could imagine eating right now.

Logan rolled his eyes, not without amusement. He had been aware that Virgil was good with children, but to see him take this quickly to fatherhood was still fascinating. “I have no objections to pizza.”

“Great. Let me see what the options are.” Virgil pulled out his phone, and when Roman perked up and strained to see, laughed and beckoned him over, letting the boy watch as he scrolled through different pizzerias.

Over dinner, as Roman peppered both Virgil and Logan with questions about super school in between tremendous bites of pizza, Logan was struck with the thought that Roman would undoubtedly get along well with Patton. And further, that it might be beneficial to Roman to have some specific connection to help him start making friends at Brennan.

Introducing Roman to his nephew could be a highly beneficial act for both the children. He would just have to get Janus on board with this idea. Which would be difficult, as Roman was now under Virgil’s care, and Janus was absolutely unwilling to allow Virgil and Patton to interact for any reason. They had a dislike for Virgil that was, in Logan’s opinion, entirely petty and unreasonable, and she had forbidden him from so much as mentioning anything about Patton to Virgil as a result. No amount of arguing had thus far been able to change her mind, so Logan would have his work cut out for him. But for Roman’s sake, it would certainly be worth it, so Logan began sorting through possible arguments he could make to Janus.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and Janus had been wanting him to resume his participation in Saturday dinners at her house. Perhaps Janus would be happy enough at Logan acquiescing to his request to actually hear out his idea, rather than shutting it down the moment the topic of Virgil came up.

However, dinner at Saturday was a casual event. No super personas involved. And Remus was now a participant. Remus, who knew Dr. Logic, but not Logan Crofter.

But he did trust Remus. He was quite fond of the young man. He had no objection to Remus knowing him in a more personal capacity, in an abstract sense. It was just telling him that was an (annoyingly large) emotional stumbling block.

Well. He had come out to and shared his name with one new person already today, for the first time in years. What was one more?

Logan pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Janus before he could change his mind. I’ll be there at about 5:30 tomorrow. Is there anything you would like me to bring?

The reply—or, rather, replies—were nearly instantaneous:

!!!!!

Fuck I loooove being right

U should just start agreeing w whatever I say all the time it’ll be great for my ego

Anyway uhh idk. Wine?

Oh wait Remus doesn’t rlly drink tho

So maybe like. Idk bread or something

Or any side dish u want idk

I’m making a casserole and Remus is bringing dessert, if that helps

Also I’m not telling him or Patton ur coming I wanna see the looks on their faces

Logan shook his head and rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. He tapped out a single response—Very well, see you tomorrow.—and shut off his phone, running through potential side dishes he could bring.

“What’s so funny, babe?” Virgil asked.

“Hm?” Logan realized he was still smiling. “Oh. Nothing. I was simply amused by something a friend texted me.”

“You guys have friends?” Roman asked around a mouthful of pizza. His eyes widened. “Wait—wait, that sounded really bad, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—!”

Virgil, who had choked on his water laughing, composed himself and ruffled the little boy’s hair. “You’re good, kid.” He gestured at Logan. “Mostly he’s the one who’s got friends, I’m a bit of a loner. And kind of obviously recognizable, even with the suit off. But L’s all popular, I swear he introduces me to someone new every time I see him.”

“If you actually spent time with my friends long enough to get to know them, you would remember them, and stop thinking I am introducing you to new people,” Logan interjected patiently.

“Well, I prefer to leave before we reach the ‘awkward questions about me’ stage,” Virgil said. This was, admittedly, fair; most, if not all, of Logan’s friends had guessed that his boyfriend was the Nightmare. Amusingly, this provided excellent cover for his own secret identity—his friends all thought they had figured out Logan’s big secret, so they did not look for anything else he might be hiding.

“I am just saying, this is a problem you create for yourself,” Logan said.

“Yeah, probably true.” Virgil shrugged with an amused smile.

When dinner was done, Virgil shooed Logan and Roman out of the kitchen. “Roman, we can watch one episode of your show before bedtime,” he instructed. “I’ll throw the dishes in the dishwasher, you pull it up, mmkay?”

Roman, practically vibrating with excitement, snatched the remote up at once. “Did you know, um—” he began, looking beseechingly at Logan, his words blurring together into barely-comprehensible happiness. “Did you know I only saw a little bit of this show before? My friend Cathy showed me some, but I couldn’t see it any other time because I had to be careful, but Cathy got me some stickers of the characters and I kept them at school, and she and me talk a bunch about it at school and she did tell me some spoilers because I didn’t think I’d ever get to see more. I’m so excited to tell her I get to watch it all now! And um, she’s bi, but she’s keeping it a secret, so she can still be friends with me, and now I guess probably she doesn’t have to keep it secret anymore, which is pretty cool.” He sucked in a huge breath.

Logan, who was becoming more and more struck by the similarities between this boy and Patton the more he interacted with Roman, gently nudged the remote clasped in the child’s hands to point towards the television. “Which episode are you on?”

“Oh!” Roman began clicking buttons, his focus successfully redirected. “I forget the number but I know it.”

Virgil slid into the spot beside Logan on the couch, wrapping an arm around his waist and planting a soft kiss to his cheek. “One episode,” he reminded Roman. “Then bedtime.”

“Mmhm!” Roman pressed play and passed the remote to Virgil, kicking his feet excitedly.

Logan curled more securely against Virgil’s side, watching the fond expression on his partner’s face as he engaged in gentle banter with Roman throughout the episode. The boy was absolutely basking in the positive attention, fidgeting happily, his attention wavering rapidly back and forth between the television and Virgil’s amused comments. By the time the credits rolled across the screen, Roman seemed highly energized, beaming ear to ear and bouncing in place. Hardly in the right frame of mind to be sent to bed.

“That was so fun!” he enthused as Virgil navigated back to the home screen.

“It sure was, kid,” Virgil said in a tone of pure indulgence. “What was your favorite part?”

“All of it,” Roman declared at once. “It was so good, can we watch more?”

“Tomorrow we can,” Virgil promised. “For now I want you to brush your teeth, mmkay?”

Roman stilled his bouncing, seeming less than impressed with this compromise. “Okayyy,” he agreed after a minute.

“Cool.” Virgil offered him a high-five as the boy got to his feet. Roman brightened at this, smacking his hand against Virgil’s and scampering down the hall to his room.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Virgil commented, turning his attention fully to Logan.

“Hmm.” Logan tipped his face to nestle in the crook of Virgil’s neck. “I am simply unwinding. It was a long day.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t know, seeing as I was out cold for a chunk of it,” Virgil teased, a laugh barely stifled in his voice. He rubbed large circles into Logan’s back.

“That was the most practical course of action on my part,” Logan defended, though his voice came out muffled and soft, melting against his boyfriend at the caresses.

Virgil didn’t bother to muffle his snicker at that. “I see. Care to break that down for me?”

Logan huffed at the teasing. He shifted in order to free up his hands and tick items off on his fingers, without ceasing cuddling Virgil. “You are known for running a remarkably peaceful community of villains,” he explained. “Exceptions to that rule are things I am expected to intervene in. However, I was disinclined to protect that man from you, for obvious reasons. Therefore, intervening after your fight concluded was the most beneficial path. Which meant I needed to conclude the interaction quickly and concisely to make up for the time I had spent not intervening. Therefore, obviously, removing you from the picture for a brief time, and using the time without opposition to reclaim a variety of tech from the lair, was the most acceptable outcome for me in terms of optics.”

“I see.” Virgil kissed his temple, his tone still lightly teasing. “And the little seduction scheme you used to pull that off?”

“Oh. That was for fun.” Logan shrugged. “And I wanted to see if it would work.”

“Well. You’re very smart.” Virgil kissed him, a brief tender peck on the lips. “But it won’t work next time.”

“It absolutely will,” Logan said assuredly.

“Hey!” Virgil shoved him playfully. “I wouldn’t fall for something twice.”

“Really?” Logan blinked up at him innocently through his eyelashes. “May I have another kiss, beloved?” he asked in his sweetest, most besotted tone of voice, the one that almost always got Virgil to do exactly what Logan wanted.

Virgil visibly struggled for a moment. “That’s not fair,” he said plaintively. “How am I supposed to not kiss you when you’re all handsome and perfect like that?”

Logan allowed himself a triumphant grin. “Exactly. I win.”

Virgil laughed and surged forward, kissing Logan bright and warm and pressing him against the sofa cushions, his hands so gentle where they cupped Logan’s waist. Logan reached up to cradle the back of Virgil’s head in his hands, kissing back with satisfaction and relaxing in his grasp.

“You’re incorrigible,” Virgil told him fondly, breaking the kiss only to press his forehead to Logan’s and rub their noses together.

“I still win,” Logan informed him, feeling very smug indeed.

Virgil chuckled. “Fine. Fine. If that’s what makes you happy.”

Logan slid his hands down to clasp around the back of Virgil’s neck. “It is.” He found himself unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face, not that he would have wanted to.

Virgil smiled back, leaning in to kiss him again, this time soft and gentle. “Love you,” he murmured.

“And I, you,” Logan returned.

There was the tiniest creak of a door from down the hallway, and Virgil immediately glanced over, sitting back up and letting go of Logan as Roman padded carefully down the hall. The little boy had changed into pajamas while he was gone, too, without even being prompted. He hesitated at the edge of the hall, not quite stepping out into the living room.

“You all ready for bed, bud?” Virgil inquired, holding out a hand invitingly.

Roman nodded, taking the invitation and crossing the room to Logan and Virgil. “I brushed my teeth like you said,” he reported. “And I put my clothes in the hamper.” He stifled a yawn; he seemed to have calmed down considerably from the excited state he’d been in at the end of the TV episode.

“What a responsible little man,” Virgil told Roman approvingly. “Is there anything else you need before bedtime?”

“Or want,” Logan interjected, seeing the hesitation and uncertainty building on Roman’s face at Virgil’s phrasing.

“Yes. Or want,” Virgil agreed.

Roman considered this, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“A glass of water?” Logan suggested.

Roman perked up. “Water would be nice.”

When the water had been acquired and Roman had bid Virgil and Logan a very polite little goodnight before retreating to his room, the two men made their way back to the couch. “Are you planning on staying the night again?” Virgil inquired hopefully.

Logan nestled against him. “Please.”

“Good.” Virgil laced their fingers together. “Movie night?” he suggested.

Roman had been put to bed at a much more reasonable time than the previous night. It wasn’t even ten yet. Even considering how much there was to do tomorrow, there was certainly time. “Yes,” Logan decided. “I want to see that new one, about what the world would be like without supers.”

“And you’re going to tell me all about how wrong the fake science is.” Virgil sounded amused by this prospect, reaching for the remote and pulling up the requested film—a recent release they’d both been somewhat curious about.

“Yes. I will tell you all about how wrong it is,” Logan confirmed, allowing Virgil to drape the throw blanket about the pair of them. He placed one hand on Virgil’s cheek and tugged him down, guiding him into a slow and lazy kiss.

“I look forward to it,” Virgil said in a low voice that was barely above a whisper, wrapping his arms a little more securely around Logan.

Logan suspected Virgil was referring to his presence more than conversation about the movie, but, well, he hardly had reason to complain about that.

After all, he felt much the same way.

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

birthday prince (3)

summary: virgil decides roman deserves a day off. words: 2,100 / ship: prinxiety (roman/virgil) author’s note: this is part three of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! all ships are written implied romantic but i’m not stopping you from interpreting it otherwise. check the end notes on ao3 for credit on these gifts (bc i don’t know where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) read on ao3

— — —

“Best two out of three.”

“I thought this was a birthday gift!”

“Yes and?”

“So why don’t I automatically get to pick the first movie?”

“Because I know you’re on a princess kick and full offense, if I have to deal with a talking animal as the comedic relief sidekick, I might actually die.”

“... Okay. Fine, okay, that’s fair.”

“On shoot.”

One, two, three, shoot — Virgil’s scissors versus Roman’s paper meant that the birthday boy did, in fact, not get to pick the first movie. He feigned upset for only a few moments longer before flopping back into their pillow fort. He supposed, given all the hard work Virgil had put into this, he could put up with one non-princess Disney film.

Earlier in the day, Virgil had rather unceremoniously kicked Roman out of his own room, claiming he had something important to do. Were it not for how close they’d grown, Roman would have been upset and suspicious; he trusted Virgil now, though, and knew that nothing would go wrong. He’d spent an hour playing cards with Logan and Patton before Virgil shouted for him from upstairs. When he’d arrived back to his room, it looked almost unrecognizable. It was mostly illuminated by fairy lights, providing a cozier feel than what he was used to; the floor to ceiling windows looked out into a rainy forest instead of the usual rolling hills; his bed had been turned into a truly impressive collection of blankets, pillows, cushions, and stuffed animals. The canopy had been removed which bothered him a little but only until he realized the projector that had been set up, pointing at the ceiling. There was a basket at the foot of the bed, filled with snacks and bottled drinks. Roman figured they could stay here for the next twenty four hours and be perfectly fine.

Surrounded by what was possibly every soft thing to be found in the Mindscape, Roman clutched Mrs. Fluffybottom to his chest as Virgil got the movie set up. She’d been his favorite plushie for the entirety of his existence; he’d taken her on many adventures over the years but she’d comforted him through a number of breakdowns too. He swore there was actually something magical about her.

Virgil threw himself down next to Roman; he had swapped out his usual hoodie for one that was fully dark purple and had even longer sleeves. After Roman had stopped gawking around his room, Virgil had tossed a sweater at him. It was so bright it was practically neon but it was rainbow print and he loved it. He’d immediately changed out of his t-shirt and had grabbed Virgil in a tight hug. Roman definitely intended on starting a sweater paw fight at some point during their movie marathon.

“You good with Hercules?”

“No comedic relief sidekicks, huh?”

“Phil is not a sidekick!”

“What? Are you trying to tell me right now that Philoctetes is a main character? You can’t say he isn’t comedic relief! He gets hurt just for laughs way too often!”

“No! I mean. Maybe?”

Roman laughed, bumping his shoulder against Virgil’s. “Whatever, you dork. Of course I’m good with it. You could have picked The Black Cauldron and I would’ve been good.”

“Talking animal. Comic relief. Sidekick. Gurgi checks all of those boxes. I would’ve been going against my own word.”

“Hmm, fair,” Roman said, humming a little.

As the Muses began singing them through the opening, Roman took a moment to appreciate everything Virgil was doing for him. The basket of goodies was stocked with every one of Roman’s favorite snacks, including enough chocolate to make him sick. In fact, it’d been the first thing he’d decided on, before Virgil could even tell him what the plan for the day was. Not that it was really much of a plan, anyway. Today specifically had been set aside just for Virgil to spoil Roman however he wanted. That apparently meant marathoning Disney movies, napping as much as they pleased, and eating all the junk food they wanted. It was a far cry from how Roman usually spent his time; what with all of the projects he was constantly juggling, or the content he had to help Thomas produce, or the issues to take care of in the Fantasy Realm. He didn’t really realize even how hard he was always working.

Apparently, however, Virgil had.

Something was shoved into his face, startling him out of his thoughts. He shot a glare at Virgil, who was watching the movie and acting totally inconspicuous. The item turned out to be a stuffed dragon, one he didn’t recognize from his usual pile of plushies. The scales were shimmery, a nice ombre of purple and blue shades, the wings were tucked against the body, and… Holding his hand against the stomach was warmer than the rest, as if it had a belly full of fire. That was so cool! He squeezed it tight in his arms and went back to watching the movie, feeling even comfier than before.

With the credits rolling, Virgil ushered them both out of bed and into a couple minutes of stretching.

“I’m not having you complain to me later on when your bones start creaking.”

“You make it sound like I’m so old, Virgil!”

“Older than me,” Virgil teased. He ducked out of the way of a thrown cushion. “Oh, is that what we’re doing?!”

Roman took a face full of pillow and suddenly it was on. He couldn’t begin to guess how long they fought for, darting around the room and over the bed, swinging their feather-filled weapons at each other. He did know that by the time he collapsed on the floor, he was breathless with laughter. Virgil was so far gone that he’d dissolved into alternating between wheezes and complete silence. Eventually, they did manage to get back into their nest of blankets, though there was plenty of shoving, poking, and tickling as they did so.

“I dunno if I’ll make it through this next movie so pick one that I won’t mind falling asleep during.”

“You besmirch the name of Disney if you think there’s a single film boring enough to allow that!”

“You dozed off the first time we watched The Good Dinosaur.”

Roman spluttered. “I had just come back from a week-long quest! And that’s Pixar!”

Virgil actually cackled. “You can’t pull that excuse! Disney owns Pixar!”

“Stop bullying me,” Roman cried, “it’s my birthday!”

“It’s two days before your birthday, actually, so I can bully you all I like.”

“I’m picking The Black Cauldron, then! See how you like dozing off during your favorite movie.”

It perhaps hadn’t been his best choice. With Virgil snuggled into his side, warm and soft, the sound of his even breathing accompanying the utter lack of any songs… Well, Roman really didn’t last much longer. They found each other in the Dreamscape. Edges were fuzzy, sounds were muffled, and touch was electric. The Dream Palace was a blurry shape in the distance, attracting his attention every so often when its crystal spires caught the light. Virgil sort of just appeared, as if created from the colors of the setting sun. Roman had a feeling he was made of the field of flowers he’d woken up in.

“I like it here,” Virgil said, sitting down next to Roman.

“Remy does a nice job with it,” Roman agreed, slowly picking daisies and dandelions to weave into a crown.

“You do, too,” Virgil argued. “You have a hand in almost everything, you know.”

Roman frowned at him. “I do not.”

“Yes, Ro,” Virgil insisted, “you do. The Memory Archives look the way that they do because you and Logan watched one episode of Doctor Who together and had the inspiration to redesign.”

Roman chuckled, a little nervously. “I guess.”

“Memory Lane doesn’t hurt Patton because it knows better than to hurt anyone you love. It might be connected to him and his room, but you’re the one that created that safety net.”

“Virgil…” Roman tried, voice slightly strangled.

“I just need you to know how important you are. You aren’t told enough.”

“It’s fine—”

“You’re important, Roman. You matter. You make a difference.”

Roman finally stopped trying to tie together the stems of the flowers. Virgil took his shaking hands into his own and held them tightly. It was just enough that Roman could actually feel it versus the tingly sensation that the Dreamscape normally worked with.

“We love you. We appreciate you and your hard work.”

If it weren’t for that everything around them was already blurry, Roman might not have noticed his vision swimming when tears filled his eyes. It was hard to not know suddenly that he was crying, though, regardless of how physically present he was in this space.

Virgil let go of his hands and instead, cradled his face gently. “I know I go against you sometimes but in the long run, I want you to be just as happy as you make the rest of us.”

He waited a moment longer before smiling and squishing Roman’s cheeks. Roman giggled a bit in response. Virgil gave him two careful pats before pulling away. Picking up the flower crown Roman had abandoned, he set to work on finishing it. Roman wiped his tears away and sat still in the sunshine, content to simply let himself soak it up until he was completely warm from the inside out.

When they woke, the screen projected onto the ceiling was displaying a screensaver of 3D pipes. The forest outside the windows had been replaced with a cliffside view of the ocean. Virgil stirred next to him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Roman’s cheek before getting out of bed. He was gone for a little while, during which Roman found two more plushies that he didn’t recognize. They were a gryphon and a lion, both extremely soft to the touch, and with fierce expressions that reminded Roman of how Virgil looked when he was in fight mode. He wondered how these new stuffed animals kept sneaking into his collection but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

When Virgil returned, Roman burst into laughter, because yes, he supposed there was no chance of sneaking that one into the pile.

“There won’t be any room for me in bed, Virgil!”

“Guess you better get used to sleeping on the floor then,” Virgil said, dropping the massive Simba plushie on top of Roman.

This just made Roman laugh harder. The fabric on this one was fluffier than on the others, something he could sink his fingers into if he wanted. It was nearly as big as him, or maybe it just felt like that right now since it was smothering him. Before he could move it, though, Virgil sank himself down onto it as well.

“Virgil!!” Roman gasped between snickers. “Get off, you fiend!”

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed, pondering. From where he was laying, he could just barely look directly into Roman’s eyes. This made it all the funnier when he finally decided, in the most deadpan tone, “nah.”

After some wrestling, which led to them both falling out of bed and Roman bumping his elbow and howling for five minutes about his funny bone before Virgil kissed it better, they were finally settled back in to continue their movie marathon.

They watched Moana, Tarzan, and, Mary Poppins before sleep began to take them once more. Seeing as the sun had sunk below the sea quite some time ago, it was safe to assume it was late enough to call it a night.

“I got you…” Virgil paused to yawn. “Got you one more thing…”

“Vee—”

“‘S not much.” He held out Mrs. Fluffybottom for Roman to take. “I just… I made it so that she can never be hurt.”

For a moment, Roman’s lethargy was chased away by astonishment and surprise. He could feel the enchantment just from holding her, though it was passing by the second as the magic was fully absorbed.

“I know you… take her on adventures a lot. Fightin’ bad guys ‘n stuff.” Virgil shifted further into the blankets as sleep continued to take hold on him. “Wanna keep her safe. Know you will, anyway. But jus’ in case.”

Roman rolled onto his side so that he was facing Virgil. He kept the bunny plush tucked between them and took one of Virgil’s hands in his. “Thank you…”

“Love you. Happy birthday, princey,” Virgil told him, papping him once more on the cheek.

Sleep settled over them quickly after. Roman would wake in the morning, feeling more secure and warm than he had in quite some time, surrounded by plushies and Virgil’s arms, and know that he had so much to be grateful for.

#sanders sides fan fiction #prinxiety #prinxiety fan fiction #roman sanders #virgil sanders #gifts for roman's bday #dani writes

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blogging-time · 4 years

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When I Kissed The Teacher

Dialogue Prompt List – Long List My Fic Masterlist

Prompt: “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.” - Logan and Roman. (Friendship) - Submitted by @louisthewarlock

Summary: Roman Crowne has just been dumped by yet another co-worker. Logan Sanders makes it his personal mission to console the heartbroken Spanish teacher while also convincing him to turn off that godforsaken ABBA soundtrack.

Warnings: Post Break-Up (Not Logince), Alcohol Mention.

Pairings: Platonic Logince/Foreshadowing Romantic Logince, Past Royality, Past Prinxiety, Past Roceit, Background Intruality.

Word Count: 1,688

~ ~ ~

“Well this seems like a perfectly healthy and not at all counter-intuitive way to conduct oneself post break-up,” Logan remarked as he slowly entered the almost vacant looking Spanish classroom.

The sight awaiting him was that of his co-worker – Roman Crowne – sitting slumped over a rather busy looking table, his unusually messy head of hair tucked uncomfortably between his hastily folded arms. Surrounding him were various pages that Logan couldn’t quite decipher, as well as some familiar looking textbooks that Roman would use to teach his sophomore classes when the school board once again forbid him from making “Pan’s Labyrinth” an official part of the school’s curriculum. The most notable item at Roman’s disposal however had to be his mobile phone, as it was currently playing “When I Kissed The Teacher,” repeatedly on Spotify.

“You know most people actually knock before inviting themselves into a colleague’s classroom, right?” Roman half-heartedly muttered against the cheap plywood.

“Well you should know that most teachers actually prefer to work at their own desks instead of downgrading to a small student’s table. I guess we’re both just feeling a little unconventional today.”

With a heavy sigh and even heavier limbs, the Spanish teacher finally mustered up the energy required to pry his face off the aforementioned table. As soon as the pair made eye-contact, Logan couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at Roman. No matter how many times he found the man in this heartbroken state his tearstained face simply never failed to upset him.

“There’s a window,” Roman responded vaguely before Logan could even make an awkward attempt to console him. Then, upon recognizing the science teacher’s confusion, he unenthusiastically waved his hand and explained, “There’s a window embedded in the door to this classroom – I’m sure you’re well aware of it. Had I chosen to lay about and wail over my lost love at my own desk then surely any old passer-by could have caught me in my moment of lament.”

As sympathetic as Logan was towards his friend’s situation, he still couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic the man was being.

“Janus Marshall merely terminated his relationship with you, Roman. He himself is not deceased.”

“Hark! For his love for me is dead at least – dead and buried beneath the heels of some younger, prettier thing! Its ghost takes the form of the man I once danced with, and it taunts me as I pass him by in the corridor on my way to lunch.”

“Would you kindly stop and think rationally for five minutes instead of writing another soliloquy?” Logan may sound exasperated, but in reality, he simply hates seeing his friend’s thoughts spiral out of control like this. “Janus made it abundantly clear to you months ago that he would be migrating to England at the end of the year in order to teach Psychology at Oxford. Since neither of you were ever interested in long-distance relationships, I thought this break-up would seem inevitable to you.”

Roman visibly deflated upon hearing such a logical argument, yet somehow Logan didn’t feel victorious.

“I know… I suppose I just got a little carried away again. Deep down I’d honestly hoped we’d be able to make it work.”

“But why?” Logan asked, “Why would you allow yourself to get your hopes up time and time again? Every time you’ve dated a colleague your relationship has ended within six months or less.”

“Now hold on just a moment, Charles Rush-In! Just because I happened to date – and consequently was dumped by – a few of my colleagues doesn’t mean having a relationship with one is inherently flawed and destined to fail.”

“While your current statistics would highly suggest otherwise, that isn’t the part that concerns me the most. What concerns me the most is that you’re clearly upset or made to feel uncomfortable every time you’re forced to work with an ex-partner.”

“Name one example.”

“Patton Hart.”

“You mean the Home Economics teacher? I love Patton! Well… not in that way… not anymore at least… Yeah things were a little awkward at first… and then things got awkward again eight months later when he asked if I would be okay with him dating my brother… but both of us are on very good terms now!”

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, but ultimately decided it was Remus’ responsibility to tell Roman about his current engagement plans.

“Okay then, what about Virgil Rae?”

“Ah yes, the English teacher who never stopped reading too much into things.”

“You and him seem to argue a lot.”

“To be fair we also argued before and during our relationship too.”

Logan clicked his tongue in perfect time with ABBA before naming, “Janus Marshall.”

“That’s a fresh wound! It’s hardly fair for you to twist the knife in that!”

“I can’t help but disagree considering you’re currently spending your lunch break marking papers and crying in your classroom just to avoid encountering Janus – something you wouldn’t have to do if he wasn’t your colleague.”

Roman couldn’t deflate anymore, so instead he was forced to sink further down in his admittedly rather uncomfortable plastic chair. Mentally he made a note to stop by the thrift store and his aunt Dot’s place after work to see if he could somehow acquire twenty-six cheap cushions that would make hour long lessons in these chairs more comfortable for his students.

“Why are you so determined to prove the successful office romance trope is unattainable?” he asked in a voice that already sounded so defeated.

“Why are you so determined to prove me wrong?” Logan countered.

Roman met Logan’s eyes for just a moment before completely averting his gaze. Logan coughed into his elbow for just a second in a manner that conveniently covered both of his cheeks. A minute passed, and neither man acknowledged either his or his co-worker’s sudden actions.

Eventually Logan decided to break that uncomfortable minute of silence with a sigh of his own.

“Do you have another class immediately after lunch?”

“Not today. I was supposed to be teaching Freshman Spanish for the next hour, but apparently Principal Sanders has called in a public speaker. I won’t have a class again until last period. How about you?”

“It appears I’m in a similar situation. I typically have the hour free after lunch on a Thursday until my Juniors come in for their Chemistry class at 2PM. If the circumstances today were any different then I would undoubtedly use this time to either grade my students most recent homework or to formulate a lesson plan for next week.”

“If the circumstances were any different?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow and an only slightly watery eye.

“I have a bottle of Chardonnay in my car,” Logan answered. Then, upon recognizing the Spanish teacher’s concern, he quickly waved his hands and explained, “Your brother gifted it to me a few weeks ago, stating that it may help me to ‘loosen up around handsome men,’ - only he used far more vulgar phrasing than I. I can assure you that I would never drink and drive. I’ve simply never felt the need to consume alcohol since receiving the gift, and so I let the bottle sit forgotten in my car until now.”

“What? I haven’t driven you to drink already have I?” Roman joked, but Logan didn’t miss the way another silent tear disobediently slid down his still reddened cheeks.

Again, neither man acknowledged the sudden presence of emotion.

“Believe me, Roman, if any Crowne were ever going to drive me to drink then it would most certainly be that unfathomable brother of yours. My idea was more along the lines of… well…” The science teacher paused for a moment as he remembered how much more important Roman was to him than his reputation. “Let’s drink wine and trash talk our co-workers.”

Upon proposing the idea, Logan let out a nervous breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. Despite the simplicity of their plan, inviting Roman to share a glass of wine with him during work hours just so that they could say negative things about their generally very respectable colleagues to him felt so deeply personal and borderline exhilarating.

Roman must have recognised how much the offer meant to Logan, as he too seemed shocked that the usually oh-so calm and collected science teacher would propose something so unorthodox.

“You want to share a drink with me now?”

“Well encountering your colleagues won’t be an issue after work hours – Perhaps if we start highlighting all of their potential flaws now, you’ll be less inclined to test fate and pursue another doomed relationship with one of them later.”

“Hey!” Roman shouted incredulously, but he was genuinely laughing now.

The sound was so infectious that his co-worker soon found himself chuckling quietly to himself.

“I’ll ask the canteen staff if they can spare two small cups so we don’t drink too much,” Logan offered, “Plus I keep more than enough spare change in my wallet at all times to ensure we can afford a cab ride home. We won’t be stranded here at school if you accept. All I ask in return is that you turn off that infuriating song – I’ve heard it more than enough times now, thank you very much.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr Berry,” Roman responded, his lips forming a playful smirk as he pretended to mull the proposition over. “What album would you suggest we listen to in its place?”

“How about ‘The Wall’ by Pink Floyd? I believe I still have that cassette sitting in my car right now, along with ‘The Dark Side of the Moon.’”

“Oh, wow…” Roman drawled as he blinked his eyes rapidly in only semi-feigned surprise. “I think you just aged ten years for every word you just said, Lograndad.”

“Of course, you can always just sit here and listen to the sound of Janus’ voice instead.”

“On second thought-” Roman announced, standing up rather quickly as he grabbed his nearby coat and bag, “-Pink Floyd sounds like an excellent choice. Why don’t you lead the way?”

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@sholaghhh (Formerly @lunamay2006) @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @saphael-malec102 @anastasialestina @seraphlies

Additional Tags:

@sympathetic-deceit-trash

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was pretty out of practice here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism!

For spelling, punctuation and grammar I followed Microsoft Word's English (UK) rules. Feel free to correct any errors you may find in the comments, but please keep in mind that some words are spelt differently here in the UK!

I hope you’re all have a fan-der-tastic day!

~ ~ ~

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Logince #Background Characters:#Remus Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Background Relationships:#Intruality #My Fic #Post Break-Up #Alcohol Mention #Reblogs > Likes

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bonniebelleklyde · 3 years

Text

Time and Distance, Chapter 1

Note: Ooookay, so this little angst fest has evolved into a chaptered fic! Endless thanks to @joylessnightsky for the prompt that got me started down this road (the quote you suggested doesn’t appear in this chapter, but it’s coming!). Hope you enjoy this first installment!

Word Count: 1520

Pairing(s): Loceit (romantic); Logince (familial/parental), Roceit (familial/parental)

Warnings: Mild cursing, light angst (but be warned that it will escalate in future chapters), signs of depression

Summary: Twenty years after graduating college and watching the love of his life walk out of his for what he thought was forever, Janus not-so-accidentally runs into him again. Even with so much time and distance between them, he struggles to fight back feelings, old and new, as he and his old friend become reacquainted. That precocious child of Logan’s does nothing to help matters.

Janus didn’t know what the hell he was doing here. He hadn’t kept in contact with a single soul from his college days, and he had not attended any of these stupid alumni events in twenty years. He had precious few fond memories of his time here, so it was not like he’d come to reminisce about the good old days. And there was nothing about his current life he was particularly proud to show off either. He worked like a dog at a job he didn’t want, and one that paid him significantly less than he was worth. He lived in a depressing little apartment in a depressing little neighborhood. He had no family to speak of, and all of his friends had long since moved far enough away that he had lost touch with most of them. Even Remus only ever called him on holidays out of some sort of pity-driven obligation. Janus had become what all of the people here who once knew him had no doubt expected him to be-- a lonely, bitter man.

Oh, who was he kidding? Janus knew exactly why he had come. When he’d received the Facebook invitation, he’d rolled his eyes and idly visited the event page. He was about close his laptop and get on with his miserable life when his eyes froze on one of the names that appeared as having accepted the invite.

Logan Keller.

If Janus was being honest with himself-- which he almost never was-- he would have to admit that he looked for that name every time he got one of these invitations. Which was ridiculous. Janus had never dated Logan; they’d never been lovers. Even the term “friend” was probably too generous a term for what they had been. Logan was more a friend of Janus’s old roommate than of Janus himself.

But Logan Keller had captured every inch of Janus’s attention from the moment that Virgil had introduced them. He was impossibly beautiful, with his piercing eyes, his sharp grin and the single dimple one could only see when he smiled wide enough. And lord, was it a triumphant feeling on any occasion when Janus managed to make him smile wide enough. Moreover, Logan was perhaps the most brilliant mind that Janus had ever encountered, his highly acclaimed professors included. Any topic that Janus had ever wanted to discuss, Logan had always been readily equipped with a string of seemingly endless facts, figures, analyses and opinions that he was more than ready to fiercely defend. These “discussions” more often than not turned into heated debates, but Janus liked it better that way. Logan was a rare worthy opponent, and going toe to toe with him was exhilarating.

Even years after they had last spoken, Janus found himself remembering things, small and large, about Logan at random. He drank the strongest coffee known to man completely black, and the scent of it followed him wherever he went, no matter the time of day. He had an intense fascination with Sherlock Holmes stories and a well-worn copy of The Hounds of Baskerville was with him wherever he went. He hated pretzels. He loved the stars. He held Janus’s hand in silent solidarity while Janus tried and failed to hold himself together at his mother’s funeral.

Janus had been desperately in love with Logan Keller the entire time he knew him and well afterward. And Logan had been in love with Virgil Sykes. He never said as much, and the two had never officially been an item as far as Janus was aware, but he knew it to be true all the same. The two were inseparable, and Janus had never seen a bond like that. To this day, they were always showing up in photos together all over social media. They were probably married now-- Janus had never had the stomach to check.

Still. It had been a long time. There had been other men. None that made a particularly lasting impression, but they’d…been. It wasn’t as if he had been pining after Logan for the past twenty years. Even Janus wasn’t quite that pathetic. Perhaps if he saw Logan now, he would find that all of those old feelings were long gone. Perhaps he’d look at Logan and wonder how he ever could have spent so many of his thoughts on someone so unremarkable. Perhaps he’d feel nothing at all.

God, if only.

Janus arrived late at the campus pub they were all supposed be gathering at, and he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised that his eyes found Logan immediately. He felt like he was twenty-two again, like he was looking at the only man he had ever loved for the last time before they went their separate ways forever.

…

“So. Boston.”

Janus wished he could come up with something better to say. Perhaps something about Boston, something so disparaging that the thought of picking up and moving approximately 2,600 miles away from here—away from him—would seem unbearable. Nothing came to mind. Nothing but a desperate chorus of ‘not yet; we haven’t had enough time. I never told you-’

“Yes, well,” the uncertainty in Logan’s voice was confusing, and Janus didn’t dare let it give him any amount of false hope, “I haven’t decided on it yet. I’ve been accepted elsewhere, you know.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re going to turn down Harvard Med. You’ve talked about nothing else for the past four years. Why wouldn’t you go?”

It took every ounce of will power Janus had not to read into the hesitance in Logan’s face, maybe even a touch of disappointment. It didn’t matter. Not when Logan was going to leave.

“I…I can’t seem to come up with any practical reason not to.”

Janus told himself there was nothing noteworthy in the way in which Logan emphasized the word ‘practical.’ He was being a ridiculous, pathetic, lovesick fool, and like hell was he about to drag Logan down because of it.

“Well then, there you have it, right? Congratulations.”

The word ‘congratulations’ had never sounded so much like defeat. Even if Logan had returned his ridiculous feelings—which he didn’t, Janus never would have asked him to give up something like this for his sake. Not even he was that selfish.

“I…” Logan faltered and sighed instead of finishing whatever it was he’d meant to say. “Thank you,” he said instead in a small voice that barely rose above a whisper.

Janus wanted to say something to make this feel like less of an end. After all, this was the twenty-first century. They had cell phones and laptops with cameras. They had social media, and when all else failed they had good old-fashioned handwritten letters. He might have enjoyed writing letters to Logan. It might have worked, kept their something-like-a-friendship intact at the very least. This didn’t have to be goodbye.

But Janus didn’t say any of those things. He nodded, muttered some thinly veiled excuse to get away and retreated. He was a coward. He paid for it for the next twenty years.

…

Janus needed a drink. No, he needed to leave. This was a mistake, he thought to himself, and he turned on his heels and headed straight back out the door.

“Janus!”

He stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Logan running up behind him, but he did so anyway.

“You’re leaving? Didn’t you just get here?” Logan continued, appearing slightly out of breath, and Janus fervently hoped that he wasn’t blushing upon having been caught out.

“I shouldn’t have come at all,” he answered honestly—too honestly—without thinking. He rushed to recover. “These kinds of…events…well, they’ve never really been for me.”

That seemed good enough for Logan, who nodded in response.

“No, they haven’t. Come to think of it, they haven’t exactly been for me either.”

“Yes, I must say, I’m surprised to see you at one of these things,” Janus lied through his teeth. Though, to be fair, Janus had been surprised to see that Logan had accepted the Facebook invitation.

Logan shrugged. “Likewise.”

There was a painfully awkward silence, and Janus for the life of him could not think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an insane person, a stalker or a complete asshole. He was about to make a pathetic excuse and flee like he always did, like the coward he was, when Logan cleared his throat.

“In fact, I’ve rather had my fill of this event. I was just thinking about going off to find some decent food when I saw you. You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t care to join me, would you? It’s…well, it’s been a long time.”

Something in Logan’s expression made it physically impossible to refuse him—Janus had almost forgotten that strange power the other man had over him, the power that apparently was not diminished by twenty years and over two thousand miles. Fresh out of excuses, Janus nodded and offered Logan a rare smile.

“That it has. Why not? I’m starving.”

#fanfic #loceit #time and distance #ts logan #ts janus #tw swearing #human au

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