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lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

the words you read (my heart’s been displayed)

how did you know 'cause I never told but you found out I've got a crush on you the words you read, my heart's been displayed you found out I've got a crush on you —“crush on you,” the jets

warnings: awkward clueless teenagers, crushes, slightly overbearing matchmaking uncles, mentions of government surveillance, mostly fluff, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, secondary patton/roman and janus/remus

word count: 5,761

notes: this is for day 5 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “vocab card/skateboard” and i have decided to write about vocab card! please enjoy!

⁂

In Virgil’s opinion, Logan Sanders is the cutest boy in all of the sophomore grade.

He was the cutest boy in freshman year, too, and eighth grade, and seventh, and all the way back to kindergarten, but Logan’s changed over the summer.

He’s sprouted up a few inches, so now he’s a half-head taller than Virgil. He still looks a little gangly, like he’s going to grow more. He’d always been shorter than Virgil before. He’d gotten new glasses, too, black frames that suit him way better than the silver ovals he’d used when they were little. His voice has gotten a bit deeper, his jawline’s gotten stronger, and Virgil’s helpless crush on him has only grown with Logan.

Logan isn’t just cute, either, he’s smart. He carries around stacks of notecards, blank and filled in, and there’s all sorts of things written on it—interesting fun facts and the latest slang terms, in rubber-banded stacks next to rubber-banded stacks of notecards of terms that will be on their next exam. Logan has a way of explaining anything and everything in a way that is really understandable and never makes you feel dumb. Logan’s always top of the class.

And to make matters worse, they’re next-door-locker-neighbors this year, because Chloe-who-was-between-them-alphabetically moved away. Which means that Virgil cannot quite get away with admiring Logan from afar, the way he has since they were little. Which means that when school starts, on the first day when Logan asks him what homeroom he’s in this year, Virgil’s brain can only go ahhhhHHHHHH and the fact that oh my God Logan is tall now oh my GOD Logan has the locker next to mine now! makes him delay his answer because he’s just staring at Logan, and Logan looks at him a little oddly and then repeats his question as if he thinks Virgil didn’t hear him, and Virgil kind of wants to crawl into his locker to hide there forever thanks.

“Oh,” he manages. He closes his locker. “Um. I’m in Mr. Morales’ homeroom this year.”

Logan smiles at him. Logan SMILES AT HIM. And then he says, “I am, as well. Perhaps we’ll be seated next to each other in homeroom, in addition to being locker neighbors. I would enjoy that.”

He would ENJOY THAT!!!!!

Logan clears his throat and fiddles with his glasses, finally just pushing them a little further up his nose, even though they’re pretty high up on his nose already. “Would you like to walk together to Mr. Morales’ classroom? I was in his home economics class last year, I know where it is.”

“Um, sure,” Virgil says, voice cracking embarrassingly, and he considers opening his locker back up again so that he can hide there. He’s pretty skinny, he might be able to fit.

So they walk to Mr. Morales’ classroom. Logan’s the one talking, mostly; Virgil’s grateful for that, because he’d probably just be rambling nervously the whole time, and it’d be tempting fate to have his voice crack in front of Logan again. But now he can just listen to Logan’s various opinions about their summer reading for their English class, which is much safer. He sure has a lot of opinions about it, which makes Virgil sweat a little nervously—Logan sounds like he’s ready to sit down and write an essay about it, as if they’re going to have to, and Virgil’s pretty sure that if he sat down to take a multiple-choice quiz about that book right now he’d flunk it.

They end up not being assigned to sit next to each other. Mr. Morales says to just sit wherever, since they’re all going to go to an assembly once he takes attendance anyways, and that he probably won’t assign seats for the whole year.

And then Logan ends up sitting next to him anyways.

Like he really meant that he’d like to be next to Virgil in homeroom.

Mr. Morales smiles at them, and then, inexplicably, gives Logan a double thumbs up? And then Logan’s cheeks go kind of red? Logan turns his face away from Mr. Morales, turning to more fully face Virgil.

“You were in his class last year, right?” Virgil says.

“Erm, yeah. Yes. I was.” Logan clears his throat, turning away from him. “He supervises my study hall, too.” Then he mumbles, “also he’s my uncle.”

“He’s your uncle?” Virgil repeats. This is news to him.

“Through marriage,” Logan explains. “Mr. Regnant is my father’s brother.”

Mr. Regnant is the arts-and-music teacher, and, though they don’t talk about it very much (students do, but then, students always gossip), Mr. Morales’ husband.

Mr. Regnant is also, not that Virgil would ever tell him so, Virgil’s favorite teacher.

“Which dad?” Virgil says, because Logan’s two dads were basically his only version of real-life gay representation when they were really little. He knows Mr. Sanders better than Logan’s other dad.

Mr. Sanders always volunteered to be part of the PTA moms who supervised them during holiday parties and field trips, though, looking back, he doesn’t think the PTA moms liked him very much. The kids, on the other hand, loved Mr. Sanders, who would treat them like very short adults and once a year would bring in his mamba Eve for kids to pet and hold.

Logan’s other Dad had been the one who encouraged the kids to throw paints and roll around in the mud and tear things up. Logan’s other Dad had come to supervise one holiday party and was politely asked to never do so again.

“Not Pa—I mean, Janus,” Logan says, looking briefly embarrassed. “He’s Dad’s—Remus’—twin brother.”

Virgil makes an “ohhh” sound, because that makes sense. Now he’s thinking about it, Mr. Regnant and Logan’s dad really do look alike, if one looked past their contrasting senses of style.

“That’s cool, though,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “That you’re related, I mean. Mr. Morales is really nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Logan says. “It’s been a bit strange to adjust to calling him Mr. Morales instead of Uncle Patton, though.”

“Yeah, I guess it probably would be,” Virgil says.

The bell rings, and Mr. Morales ushers them off to the assembly.

Logan sits down next to him on the bleachers at the assembly, too. Their knees bump together as they listen to the principal welcome them back from summer vacation and give some announcements.

And Logan keeps sitting down next to him.

At lunch, in their two shared classes, in homeroom. He wishes Virgil a good morning and good afternoon every day at their locker. As the months of the school year slowly creep by, Virgil definitely does kind of feel like crawling into his locker, sometimes, but less and less so, because.

Because he and Logan are kind of friends now.

Logan asks him about his favorite hot beverage and then starts bringing him chai when he and his uncles stop by a café before school. Virgil sketches out drawings of astronauts and space when Logan goes on a loving tirade about it that lasts, on-and-off, for a week.

He still definitely has a crush on Logan. His increased presence near him is both a blessing and a curse.

They share earbuds and laugh at videos in homeroom, they sit quietly side-by-side and do their homework together in study hall. Virgil even tags along, sometimes, when Logan takes time out of his day to visit his uncles. His uncles always seem delighted whenever Virgil drops by, which Virgil guesses makes sense—Mr. Morales is just kind of Like That, and he’s been taking classes with Mr. Regnant since freshman year, and they’ve been sassing at each other for just about as long.

Logan makes those visits rare, though. He always seems a little self-conscious about how excited his uncles are during their visits, the way they elbow Logan and give him thumbs-ups and wiggle their eyebrows. Virgil doesn’t really get it—he thinks it’s nice that his uncles are so excited to see Logan with his friend.

But then his mom unexpectedly comes by and drops off his lunch and ruffles Virgil’s hair right in front of Logan, and Virgil spends the rest of the day going beet red even Logan assures him that it’s okay and he thinks it’s nice, something in his brain... clicks. A little bit. Even though it doesn’t make sense.

Does Logan...?

No, his brain tells him. There’s no way.

But Virgil keeps an eye out for the next week anyways.

On Monday, Logan’s uncles give him a ride to school and also drive him by the café, so Logan hands over a chai for Virgil. Virgil smiles and thanks him.

Have Logan’s ears always gone red whenever Virgil thanks him for bringing him tea?

On Tuesday, their fingers brush when Logan’s passing over a stack of notecards for Virgil to study for an upcoming exam during their study hall. Simultaneously, they look away from each other, redirecting their attention to their textbooks.

Have they always done that?

On Wednesday, Logan and Virgil swing by Mr. Morales’ classroom. After Virgil laughs at a somewhat sarcastic comment that Logan says, and redirects his attention to the sketch he’s been doing to turn in for approval for his end-of-semester art project, he peeks through his bangs to see Mr. Morales waving his hands eagerly, and Logan go red and gesture sharply for him to stop.

Has Mr. Morales always been so excited whenever he and Logan spend time in his classroom?

On Thursday, Logan seems chilled by the overenthusiastic air conditioning, so Virgil gives him a spare hoodie he had in his locker. Logan looks at him, looks away, and then proceeds to huddle in Virgil’s hoodie for the rest of the day, even after the school adjusts the temperature and it isn’t quite so cold.

By then, his brain saying no way! No way, you cannot afford to be wrong on this so you aren’t even going to try, there’s no way—

It’s after school on Thursday, and Virgil makes sure Logan has already gone home when he descends the stairs to Mr. Regnant’s art-and-music studio.

“Oh, Virgil, hey,” Mr. Regnant says, distracted, looking up from the sheet music he’s laying out across four desks. “Gimme a second, I’ve got the feedback for your sketch on my desk somewhere—”

Virgil looks to Mr. Regnant’s desk. He can’t even see the mug of pens on his desk that Virgil knows is there, it’s so buried in papers and models and paint palette piles. It’s like an avalanche waiting to happen.

“Uh, that’s not—you can give it to me tomorrow,” Virgil says awkwardly. “Um. That’s not why I’m here.”

Mr. Regnant blinks at him. “All right.”

“I,” he wipes his hands on his jeans and grimaces, not quite believing that he’s about to do this. “I need advice.”

Mr. Regnant pauses, before he manages to find an empty desk and sets down the sheet music. “Okay.”

“Before I say anything,” he says. “I need you to give me this advice as Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Regnant says. “Yeah, ‘course, Virgil. I’m always—”

“Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club, is a separate person from Mr. Regnant, Logan’s Uncle Roman,” Virgil interrupts, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “Right?”

Mr. Regnant opens his mouth. Closes it. He gestures for Virgil to sit on one of the choir risers, settling there himself, but Virgil sits on the floor. This is a time in which floor-sitting is necessary.

“He could be,” Mr. Regnant says eventually.

“Well I need him to be,” Virgil snaps. “Okay?”

Mr. Regnant presses his lips together and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little higher pitched. His lips twitch and he clears his throat. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you’re about to laugh at me,” Virgil says, horrified. “I knew this was a terrible idea, forget it—”

“No!” Mr. Regnant says hastily. “No I’m not, no I’m not. I swear I’m not. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is not about to laugh.”

“Is Mr. Regnant Logan’s uncle about to laugh?!”

“I thought they were different people,” Mr. Regnant sasses back, seemingly on instinct, and Virgil buries his face in his hands and screams a little bit. Just a little bit.

“Shi—shoot, I mean shoot!” He says, and tugs lightly at Virgil’s arm. Virgil peeks at Mr. Regnant from between his fingers.

Mr. Regnant’s face is very serious. There is no more sign of lip-twitching, throat-clearing, or mirth in his eyes.

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is here and listening,” he says. “Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any relatives to speak of. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any twin brothers or nephews. What on earth even are those? Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA would have no idea. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA doesn’t even have parents, or a husband, that’s how absolutely relative-less he is. Okay?”

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is an asshole,” Virgil mutters.

“Faculty supervisor of the GSA is starting to not sound like words anymore,” Mr. Regnant says, “also, you are so lucky school is technically over, otherwise I would have totally given you a detention for language.”

“You’re such a hypocrite, you literally just almost swore.”

“Almost,” Mr. Regnant says, “is not the same as did. Now. What can I do for you, Virgil?”

Virgil takes a deep breath in.

“What do you do if you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

Mr. Regnant’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but otherwise, he doesn’t react.

“You could talk to him?”

“Okay, maybe I should be more specific,” Virgil says, “What do you do if you have an anxiety disorder, and you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

“I know you’re not gonna like this,” Mr. Regnant says, “but my answer is still you could talk to him.”

He holds up a hand before Virgil can protest. “I know it can be scary, I know it can be anxiety-inducing. I know that can be a deterrent for a perfectly neurotypical person, let alone someone who’s got a diagnosed anxiety disorder. But, I mean. Your only options, as I see them, are, A, tell him, or B, sit quietly and wait for him to maybe make the first move.”

“But how can I be sure?” He says.

“Well, why do you think he likes you back?” Mr. Regnant says reasonably.

So Virgil tells him. Virgil tells him all about it—thinking he was cute since they were kids, then suddenly becoming friends this year: the chai, the sketches, the music listening, the blushing and the awkward chats, and how they’re friends now but Virgil still really likes him in a romantic way.

“Does that sound like he likes me back?” he asks anxiously.

Mr. Regnant bites his lip. “As the faculty supervisor of the GSA? I think it could definitely be likely.”

“Likely?” Virgil wails.

“Well, as the faculty supervisor of the GSA,” Mr. Regnant enunciates carefully, “I can’t be certain.”

“I can’t go and tell him based on if it’s just likely! I need to be sure he likes me back or else there’s a chance he says he doesn’t like me and then I’m going to have a heart attack and die!”

“Virgil! As the faculty supervisor of the GSA! I really think you should go for it!”

Mr. Regnant looks like he’s about to reach out and start shaking Virgil by the shoulders. His eyes are huge, the way he always looks at actors onstage who have forgotten their lines, like by just staring at them he’ll be able to psychically impart the script to them.

“Forget it,” Virgil groans and reaches for his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders and standing up. “I’m doomed to suffer in silence. Thanks, I guess, I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this.”

As Virgil is closing the classroom door behind him, he’s pretty sure he hears Mr. Regnant screeching.

Honestly, Virgil should be the one screeching. He can’t believe he just told him all that—who knows if Mr. Regnant will be able to keep the information of a crush concerning his nephew to himself?!

⁂

“Okay, here’s your mocha-with-extra-espresso, please don’t tell your Dads,” Uncle Patton says cheerfully, passing back a to-go cup to Logan. “And the chai! I think it’s very sweet that you keep getting this for him, kiddo.”

“Gestures are a good way to express affection,” Logan says anxiously, carefully setting the chai in a cupholder. “I’ve been trying to vary my approaches based off the five love languages. I’m not sure if it’s working.”

Uncle Roman in the passenger seat, his arm thrown over his eyes, makes a sound of great discontent, the way he’s been doing for the past week whenever Uncle Patton has tried to give him any advice concerning Virgil.

“Are you okay, Uncle Roman?” Logan asks again.

“Thinking about being the faculty supervisor to the GSA,” Uncle Roman moans, as if in pain.

“Is the club schedule about to be particularly busy?” Logan asks, frowning. “You typically enjoy your work with the GSA.”

“You could say that,” Uncle Roman says tightly, then groans again.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do personally, in order to relieve any undue stress,” Logan begins, but is cut off by Uncle Roman shrieking.

“Um,” Logan says, looking to Uncle Patton, who snorts, shaking his head.

“He just, um,” Uncle Patton says. “Well, I think something’s happened, except he told me he can’t tell me what it is without betraying someone’s trust, so.”

“I see,” Logan says, frowning, except for the part where he doesn’t see, really. But that happens fairly frequently with Papa and Dad. Honestly, it’s rather curious that Uncle Roman has not acted in a way that seems strange to outsiders. Dad does it all the time, and they’re twins.

Oh, well. He’s sure he’ll understand eventually.

“I’m fine,” Uncle Roman says, and he sniffs loudly. “I’m fine, it’s all—fine.”

Uncle Patton pats his hand sympathetically, before directing their car to school.

Logan sips his drink, before he says idly, “I think I’m going to tell him I’ve had a crush him today.”

Uncle Roman immediately spews coffee onto the windshield in an impressive spit-take. It is hilarious. Even though Uncle Roman is choking a little.

Uncle Patton meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, his eyes bright with excitement. “Really?!”

“Really,” Logan confirms. “I mean, it’s been—it’s been a couple months. We are friendly enough. I do not think that Virgil will discard our friendship if I confess that I have had a crush on him since last year.”

“Well!” Uncle Patton says, so flustered that he accidentally turns on the windshield wipers when he means to signal a turn, and then when he tries to fix that he turns on his hazard lights, before he manages to get the car under control again. “Well, that’s great, kiddo! I’m so excited for you!”

“You are the smartest kid I know,” Uncle Roman says, turning in his seat to face Logan, his expression near-worshipful. “I love you.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“I know you don’t believe in psychics, but are you—?”

“Why are you bringing up psychics?” Logan says, perplexed. “I figured—well, I’ll tell him. And it is time that the Halloween festival will begin this weekend. That seems like a date that Virgil would enjoy.”

“Right,” Uncle Roman says. “Okay. Well—go for it! Please go for it!”

“I have already told you I will,” he says.

“I think it’s gonna go great if you go for it!”

Strange. Uncle Roman is acting as if he has had too much caffeine. As far as Logan is aware, the beverage they have just stopped to get is his first coffee of the day, and he does not metabolize the effects of coffee that quickly.

“Right,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of his coffee. Then, “Right.”

Then, “What if he says he doesn’t like me back?”

Uncle Roman throws his arm across his eyes and makes that same groaning sound again.

Uncle Patton absentmindedly reaches over and bracingly rubs Uncle Roman’s thigh, again meeting Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Well, kiddo, if he says he doesn’t like you back,” he says, then frowns. “It’s understandable to be disappointed, or a little bit upset, but it’s important to accept his answer graciously and kindly. No means no. No is a full sentence. But Virgil seems like a very nice boy, I can’t imagine he’ll be very mean about it at all, and you two have gotten close over the past few months. It might be kind of awkward for a bit, but with a little work, your friendship will be able to survive it.”

“I suppose,” Logan says quietly, looking down at his lap.

“But,” Uncle Patton adds hastily, “I think the chances are really good for him saying yes to the date! We both do, don’t we, Roman?”

Uncle Roman lets out a very strangled “mm-hmm.”

Logan chews his lip, before he says timidly, “Can I borrow one of your phones to call my Dads?”

“Cupholder, just a bit in front of ya,” Patton says cheerfully. “You already know the password.”

Logan does. He swipes it in—his uncles’ wedding date—and presses on Papa’s contact number. Dad’s phone is lost more often than not, and almost always turns up in strange places, like inside the gateau he’d tried to make, or inside the neighbor’s rain gutters.

His father picks it up almost immediately.

“Patton, if this is about the adopt-a-thon, if I have told you once I have told you a thousand times—”

“Um, hi, Papa,” Logan says awkwardly; he does not want to get into the family squabble about sharing a pet between their households again. Eve is a sufficient pet, even if she’s not as cuddly as Uncle Patton might like.

His father’s voice transforms from chiding to concerned in a second. “Logan, is everything all right?”

“Yes, everyone is operating under adequate parameters,” Logan says. “Is Dad there?”

There’s the sound of something crashing in the background, as if on cue. Knowing Dad, it might have been.

“I’ll get him,” Papa says wearily.

He hears his Papa say Remus, our son is on the phone, please put down the—Uh, Jan, sexy-pie! I thought you were! On the way to work!—what the—REMUS, we’ve TALKED about this, how did you lay hands on a HERON—and then the conversation gets a good deal more muffled. He is pretty sure that Papa is shouting at Dad about capturing local wildlife again.

He waits patiently, before he hears the clatter of the phone being passed into someone’s hands, and Dad asks, “Did someone die?! Do you need help covering up a murder?!”

“Remus, please,” Papa groans, “the boy is too smart to implicate himself by opening the opportunity to be recorded over the phone lines.”

“That’s right, Logie-bear, the government is always watching,” Dad says solemnly. “Big brother, all hail. Also lean over and give my little brother a wet-willie for me, it’d be so funny—”

Logan, accustomed to conversations of this tone since birth, continues stolidly onward. “I’m going to tell Virgil I like him today.”

“Finally!” Dad hoots.

“That’s excellent, Logan,” Papa says placidly. “Please know that I am fully aware of the misogynistic roots of the what are your intentions discussion, and I’ve been doing research in order to make our version as feminist as possible. Also, your father has been warned to discuss minimal amounts of gore when he comes to our home.”

“What is the point of a shovel talk then!”

“We already agreed no shovel talk,” Papa says irritably. “When we threaten the boy, we’ll do it subtly.”

“Please don’t threaten him,” Logan says anxiously. “I don’t even know if he likes me back yet.”

“Of course he likes you back!” Dad says, outraged on his behalf. “Why the hell wouldn’t he like you back?!”

“How did you two know that you loved each other?” Logan asks. The question feels slightly childish, and he feels even more so when he curls up in his car seat, but he cannot deny the posture brings a certain level of comfort.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Papa says.

“I’m sixteen in a matter of weeks!”

Dad makes an absurd gagging noise, because he is ridiculously averse to the concept of Logan (and therefore, himself and Papa) aging. Logan thinks that it might have to do with a latent existential crisis, but he has not asked, because knowing Dad, he will spin it out into thirteen separate absurd reasons, and ten of them will make Logan cringe away, repulsed.

“Trust my judgment on this,” Papa says. “You do not want to know the origins of how our romance developed. However, when we actually had the discussion concerning feelings, your father—”

“I wrote him a beautiful letter in my best calligraphy,” Dad says proudly, then, “You probably don’t want to hear about the ink, do you?”

“Is it disgusting?” Logan asks warily.

“Quite, but,” then, in a voice that literally every other person wouldn’t realize is Papa’s version of profound sappiness, “that’s your father.”

There is the sound of kissing. Logan resists the urge to make a gagging noise of his own, because somehow, he is the mature one in the entire family.

“As it is, just,” Papa says, then sighs. “I cannot believe I am about to give such... Pattonish advice. But. As it is, just be yourself. If this boy likes you back—”

“—as he should, and if he doesn’t he’s in desperate need of a lobotomy,” Dad mutters.

“—then he will like you for you, just the way you are,” Papa says, as if Dad had not said anything remotely worrying. “Tap into your strengths, Logan. You are intelligent, and observant, and thoughtful—”

“��and the best son there is—”

“Well, that goes without saying, clearly,” Papa says. “As long as your confession comes from you, then there is no way that it can go wrong. You are simply too excellent a person for it not to.”

“Even if it turns out he doesn’t like me?” Logan says timidly.

“If it does, then have your uncle forge an excuse note for you to get out of school early today and we’ll plot accordingly,” Papa says evasively. “But I do not think that outcome likely.”

Logan chews his lip. Papa is the best liar he knows, but—

But hearing his encouragement is too comforting to really analyze if he is lying.

“Thanks, Dads.”

“Knock him dead, kid!” Dad shouts. “And if he doesn’t then I will!”

“What did we just say about discussing potential evidence over the phone lines,” Papa scolds, and Logan hangs up, smiling.

Just be yourself.

Uncle Pattonish advice it may be, it has given him an idea.

⁂

Waiting over this past week to see if Mr. Regnant will crack and spill to Mr. Morales, or even worse, Logan himself, has been absolutely agonizing and Virgil’s kicking himself over going to Mr. Regnant for advice surrounding Logan at all.

That morning, though, Mr. Morales is at his desk, and a chai is waiting for Virgil at their usual spot, but Logan is nowhere to be seen. Virgil tries his hardest not to act too much like he’s keeping an eye out for Logan, but he is pretty sure he’s not succeeding, because Mr. Morales is smiling at him way too wide.

He actually seems really excited about something. Like, Mr. Morales usually gets excited when it’s fresh chocolate chip cookie day at lunch, but this is beyond the pale for fresh chocolate chip cookie day. Maybe the assembly they have today is something special? Except Virgil’s pretty sure it’s to pass out honors for the last quarter and talk about fall sports. That’s nothing particularly special.

Logan slides into his seat just before the bell rings, though, wrapping a rubber band around one of his notecard stacks. It’s a thin stack, it must be for something that’s just started; usually Logan compiles every unit of every class into thick stacks, able to be differentiated by the different colors of the notecards. These are just basic white ones.

He fiddles with it, darting looks to Virgil as Patton takes attendance, and, as they’re all filing out of the door, Logan holds out the stack of notecards.

“Here,” he blurts out.

Virgil blinks. “I don’t think we have a test soon?”

“They’re not for a test,” Logan says. “Just—take them. Read them during assembly. Please,” he adds belatedly.

“Uh,” Virgil says and takes them. “Okay?”

“Okay!” Logan says and nods. “Okay. Okay. Great! Um—please take your time to consider them carefully, and I await your response,” and then he practically runs off to fall into line near Mr. Regnant.

So that’s... weird.

But Virgil sticks the notecards into his hoodie pocket, anyways, ready to read them during assembly like Logan directed.

He waits until the principal is droning on about the importance of school spirit to take the notecards out of his pocket.

He spares a glance for Logan—who is several rows ahead, near the faculty, sitting next to Mr. Morales and Mr. Regnant, Mr. Morales occasionally reaching over to rub Logan’s shoulder bracingly—and then angles the notecards so that a teacher looking into the crowd wouldn’t really be able to see them.

He stares at the title on the top notecard. Blinks hard. Blinks again. Looks down at Logan’s back, then back to the notecard.

Reasons why I have a crush on Virgil.

He reaches over to pinch himself. Nope. Not dreaming, then.

And Logan really doesn’t seem like the type of person to make a joke like this.

He flips the cards and reads them slowly, savoring each and every word written in Logan’s blocky, neat script.

He is exceptionally witty.

He is knowledgeable about a great many things, such as music, art, spiders, novels, and mental health issues.

He is sarcastic.

He is thoughtful and deliberate in the formation of his opinions, even ones as small as the proper preparation of chai.

He is very handsome.

He is never rude without reason, and when he is rude, it is usually because the other person is “an asshole” and should be receiving backlash.

He is a remarkably talented artist.

Virgil keeps reading on, he is, he is, he is...

When he gets to the end—I would like to take you on a date. I would also like to be boyfriends, though I understand if you would like to table that conversation until we have established a rapport. Please let me know if you would be amenable to that suggestion.—he feels kind of dizzy. His throat is tight, his heart is pounding, and his hands are so sweaty he’s had to wipe them off on his jeans twice already.

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would think of him so highly?

It’s like he’s describing someone entirely different—awkward, anxious Virgil couldn’t possibly be the snarky, witty, caring, deep-thinking guy that Logan’s writing about. There’s just no way. But, Virgil thinks, heart twisting, but Logan doesn’t lie about things like this. Is this the way Logan sees him?

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would have a crush on him at all?

He likes Virgil. He wants to take Virgil on a date. He wants Virgil to be his boyfriend.

There’s the rumbling of everyone standing up from the bleachers, and Virgil jumps—has it really been the entire assembly?—and hastily gets to his feet, so he won’t get swept up in the crowd of students returning to their classrooms.

As he’s heading for the door, Logan practically materializes in front of him, hugging his books tightly to his chest.

“Did you read them?” He asks fretfully. Now that Virgil’s close to him, face-to-face, he isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Logan so nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s seen Logan nervous at all. Logan’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, drumming his fingers on his books, holding the books like they’re a teddy bear.

“Do you,” Virgil says, his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “You really like me?”

“Since last year,” Logan admits.

“I’ve liked you since kindergarten,” Virgil blurts out.

Logan blinks at him, jaw dropping. Then he says, “Really?!”

“Really,” Virgil promises. “My mom has this journal entry saved where I kept writing about how I was going to be Mr. Virgil Sanders, oh my God, she’s going to be so embarrassing about this—”

Logan snorts, ducking his head. “You’ve withstood my uncles handily.”

“Your uncles are cool, though,” Virgil says, confused.

“My uncles are embarrassing,” Logan says, “and my Dads are going to be so weird, I’m very sorry in advance, but—but if you can handle all of that, then I’d—I’d really like to take you out to the Halloween festival. I’d really really like that.”

Virgil’s smiling so wide that it hurts his face. “I’d really really like that too.”

And then the bell rings, and the pair of them jump at the sudden loud noise.

“I—we have to go to class,” Logan says, sounding very put out.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, then, “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Logan beams at him. “Lunch sounds wonderful.”

Virgil hesitates, before he reaches out and places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He leans in and presses his lips to Logan’s cheek.

Logan’s bright red when he pulls away.

“Lunch?” Virgil confirms.

“Lunch,” Logan squeaks out, his voice cracking.

They emerge from under the bleachers, and have to split ways. Even when Mr. Regnant pulls him out into the hall under the guise of talking about his project and starts whisper-shouting about “do you know how HARD IT WAS to keep QUIET when i KNEW all along that you both LIKED each other bacK,” even when Mr. Morales ducks his head into his math class to pass over papers and gives Virgil some super-obvious thumbs up, even after he texts his Mom and his mom sends him screenfuls of exclamation points and immediately asks him to invite Logan over so that she can show Logan all of Virgil’s baby pictures—

Virgil cannot stop smiling.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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kim-ruzek · 3 years

Text

sometimes you just don't know the answer

Summary: But typical Kim, typical naive, always believing the best in people Kim, thought that even though Adam and her have been out of sync, even though any time any serious conversations comes up it seems like Adam doesn’t listen or pay attention, even though things haven’t been exactly good, Kim thought they both had the same end goal. To be married, happy, in a strong relationship.

Evidently, she was wrong.

Set in S3, fix it bc it circumvents the breakup.

Warnings: Bob Ruzek's A+ parenting, alluding to sexist thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4k

Read on AO3

Notes: So. A few days ago Lexi ( @adamruz ) answered an ask and said her hc about Adam is that he never actually told Bob about the dinner with her mom and well.... My mind ran with it. And thus this was born.

I hope y'all enjoy (especially you Lexi ♥️)

“Coffee?” Kim looks over at Officer Samuel Innings, her assigned partner for her overtime shift. It’s the first time on the whole shift that Kim is glad, not irritated, at the sight of him—although it’s more to do with the coffee cup he’s holding out for her than him.

“Thanks.” She gives him a smile—he may be one of my most irritating people she’s ever met, but she’s still polite, especially when there’s coffee involved. Innings only needed to go into the shop because he needed the toilet—or, ‘needed to take a whiz’, as he so elegantly put ten minutes earlier—she didn’t expect that he’d pick her up a coffee. From what she had seen from the hours she’s already been on this shift, he’s annoying and she had thought not very considerate.

“It’s two sugars, no cream, right?” Innings double checked.

It’s not, but coffee is coffee so Kim smiles gratefully at him, nodding, before taking a sip, feeling better already knowing that coffee will be soon coursing through her body.

“Do you think we’re gonna get a call?” He only gives Kim a few seconds peace of silence before he speaks again and she has to resist so hard to not roll her eyes. Innings is young, green, and maybe his eagerness could be seen as admirable if it wasn’t so grating. He has no restraint, nattering on and bothering her, and offering his unsolicited complaints about what members of public they’ve dealt with in this shift.

He’s not the kind of partner she’d like on her regular shift, but even more on this graveyard shift, when she’s tired, when she’s already in a mood, when all she wants is just peace and quiet.

He almost makes her wish she had taken Sean up on his offer to join her on this shift. Kim had turned him down, stating she didn’t want to take away his day off just because she’s giving it up—and of course, that was a reason for it, but it wasn’t the only reason.

She just wanted silence, monotony, and she wouldn’t get that with Sean. Her mind is clouded, and he—as well intended as Kim’s sure he is—would only make it worse. But she hadn’t anticipated Innings, and is debating if the devil she knows would’ve been better than the devil she doesn’t.

“You never know.” She says in answer to his question. Her voice is dry, plain, monotone, not having it in her to bring any fake interest or life into it, even if she’s making sure she’s still being polite. Officers talk, and she doesn’t want to be known as a bitch who was in a mood—even if she’s very much feeling that way.

“I hope we do. But nothing like that last call, breaking up drunken sluts is no fun. Like they’re so dramatic, just go home with whatever man you picked up and fuck him and leave us out of it.” Kim screws up her nose at his words, taking another sip of her coffee to hide her disgust at his attitude, making a mental note to tell Trudy about it.

Not that she might necessary be able to do anything about it; Kim’s been outsourced to a beat in another district, Innings not working at hers. Trudy’s wrath would come down like a wall of bricks on any officer in the twenty-first that she gets a whiff of this kind of attitude, but Innings reports to a different desk Sargent.

Although, Trudy Platt is a formidable woman, and Kim knows that she’ll take this up with the other desk Sargent, and god help him if he doesn’t at least hear Platt out.

Even when Kim was new at the twenty-first, she was glad that she had Platt as a desk sergeant, admiring her no nonsense personality. She’s exactly the kind of Sargent cops need, and as Kim listens to Innings prattle on, it makes her wonder whatever possessed her to sign up for this overtime, to willingly seek work—willing seek to interact with officers who aren’t Trudy’s—outside her district.

Of course, Kim does know what possessed her. When seeking this, she had told everyone—well, Platt, Adam and Roman—that she wanted the overtime money, for the expenses in her near future. It’s believable, and it won’t hurt to have the money, of course.

Even though Kim has her doubts whether or not she’ll actually need it—those expenses will only happen if they can actually set a date for their wedding and pick out a place to live. And as more time goes on, the less convinced she becomes that it’ll actually happen.

Which, really, is why she chose to work on her day off.

Everything in her life, her feelings, her relationship, Adam, it’s all very confusing in her head currently and the thought of sitting at home, doing nothing but letting it continue to fester, was an unbearable one.

Kim can’t help but feel guilty, though. It’s also Adam’s day off, and since Intelligence has been thigh deep in a case recently, they haven’t spent much time together and the time they have, all they’ve done is fight—if they’ve even done much talking. It’s usually silent, even when they’re curled up on the couch together, the silence permeates through the air, making it feel like they’re worlds apart.

But she also knows it being Adam’s day off makes this a good decision even more. There’s some serious questions that Kim’s having to ponder upon, and she fears that if they were alone, no work or distractions, they might truly fight. Most of their fights end before they begin—verbally, at least—them exchanging a few heated words before they let their deafening silence say all the things they don’t.

But if they were alone, Kim fears that things might come to blows. And as much as she’s questioning her relationship with Adam, questioning his commitment to them, to her, to their future, she really doesn’t want that to happen. She doesn’t want to call quits on their relationship. And she knows how dangerously close they are to that happening; all it’ll take is one wrong thing to occur.

Like her, accidentally, in anger, yelling her half formed thoughts, her ineloquently put feelings about all what is annoying her.

They need the space, that’s what she tells herself. In a few days, Adam—and Bob Ruzek—will be meeting her mother, and while that won’t fix things, or makes her think they’ll set a date—even if that’s what Roman assumes she thinks—but it’ll be a hurdle they’ve gotten over, which means there’ll be one less hurdle in their way.

One hurdle closer to getting their relationship back in sync, to return to how they were, to being married and happy, even if it feels like they’ll never get there in this moment.

“Burgess? Burgess?” Kim is pulled out her thoughts by Innings, him lightly prodding at her. She’s alert straight away, going to her radio, assuming she had missed a call.

She hasn’t, as Innings quickly explains. He had just been talking to her and she had zoned out. He did, at least, apologize for alarming her.

“Sorry, my mind was somewhere else. What was you saying?” Kim really couldn’t care less what he was saying, but the politeness in her overrides.

“Your ring. I was asking if you’re engaged.” Innings indicates to her ring, and Kim smiles down at it for a couple seconds, reliving the happiness she felt when Adam first gave it to her months ago in her memories.

“Yeah, I am.” There’s a slight giddy feeling in her stomach, like butterflies flapping their wings, at the thought of Adam—her fiancé—and it’s the feeling that is what keeps her wanting to wait out this storm—even if she runs away like this on their days off—because surely, if she still feels like that, even if it’s lessened, if it’s hiding more from her, then the relationship is worth fighting for.

“What does he do?” Innings then asks.

“He’s a cop too. A patrol officer assigned to Intelligence.” Kim answers, while thinking that the pride that still swells in her heart as she talks about him is another reason to keep fighting. And suddenly, the guilt over leaving Adam alone on their day off surges and all she wants to do is go to him, to cuddle up and kiss him all over his face in apology—even if he didn’t know she needs to.

“Wow. Snagged yourself a good man, there.” Innings says and she’s annoyed at the words he used, at his tone, how Kim gets the impression that he’s more impressed with Adam’s achievements than he would be hers, but she repeats his words in her mind, because she has, and she wonders if her forgetting that might be the reason for their problems.

Luckily, they get some calls after that, and Kim doesn’t have to deal with just how much Innings irritates her—although his attitude towards the public really rubs her up wrong.

“Kim? I didn’t know you worked nights.” It’s a few hours later, and they’ve stopped into a twenty-four hour diner to get some coffee and a bite to eat and right as Kim gets served, she runs into Bob Ruzek, her future father in law.

As if her night couldn’t get any worse.

Adam’s father is not one of her favourite people, to say the least. She’s accepted that he’ll have to be a part of her life, of her children’s, and that Adam loves his dad but unexpectedly running into him is not something she’s very happy about.

“Bob, hi,” That politeness overrides again, and she greets her future father in law with a smile. For Adam, she reminds herself. He’s Adam’s dad, and Adam’s going to have to deal with the neuroticism that is her mother soon, so she can deal.

“I don’t usually, I’m putting in some overtime. The wedding won’t pay for itself,” Kim answers him, cracking a light smile, laughing slightly.

They chat for a few minutes, nothing too deep or substantial. Kim always wanted to have a good relationship with her in-laws growing up, but she’s glad that Bob seemingly doesn’t want to spend much time getting to know her like she feels towards him. From the corner of her eye, she sees Innings looking at her, and them, clearly trying to work out how they know each other.

“Right, I should be off.” Kim tells him as her food is handed over to her.

“Yeah. Tell Adam I said hi.” Bob nods and she forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t seem strained.

“Will do. Bye—until this Saturday, of course.” She says, referencing their arranged meal. Bob frowns, looking confused.

“What’s this Saturday?”

“The meal with my mom?” Kim prompts him, but Bob’s face is looking blank. Annoyance bubbles up in her, at him forgetting but then dots connect and she realises that Bob isn’t being the worst father in law right now—that he hasn’t forgotten, he just hasn’t been told.

Adam didn’t tell his dad.

Adam lied to her that he did.

“Never mind,” Kim waves him off, casually, even though her world is crumbling around her. They had discussions about how important this dinner is, how it’ll be unpleasant but they need it, and Adam had looked her in the eye and said his dad was on-board.

And he hadn’t even bothered to ask him, to tell him.

Roman had been saying from the start that Adam is just in this for the fun things, not the commitment, not the gruelling stuff. Her partner means well—even if sometimes it feels like he’s being contrary just for the sake of it—and Kim always listens to him because, well, because he’s her partner, but even when Adam failed that push test Roman recommended, she didn’t put much stock in what Roman had been saying.

She really should’ve.

But typical Kim, typical naive, always believing the best in people Kim, thought that even though Adam and her have been out of sync, even though any time any serious conversations comes up it seems like Adam doesn’t listen or pay attention, even though things haven’t been exactly good, Kim thought they both had the same end goal. To be married, happy, in a strong relationship.

Evidently, she was wrong.

Even though Adam has been letting her talk about this dinner. Even though he knows how nervous she is for him to meet her mom. Even though he knew all this, he still looked her in the eye and he lied to her.

Had told her he talked to his dad. Had told her Bob agreed. Had told her all this, had told her that he understood how important this was to her.

He had held her in their—his, because they still haven’t found a place that is theirs—bed and told her this all while knowing he was lying.

Kim spends the rest of her shift in a daze, trying to wrap her mind around this. Trying to process that everything Roman said was right, that Adam isn’t serious, that he doesn’t want to be married, that he doesn’t want to be on the hook.

That Adam’s just prolonging and putting off the wedding, doing everything he can too, because he doesn’t want to marry her.

Even though he was the one who proposed.

Kim’s mind wasn’t even thinking about marriage, before he proposed. Yes, the thought that she would like to—one day—marry him had propped up, of course it had. Adam is sweet, loving. He made her laugh, smile and comforted her when she had nightmares. And he was vulnerable around her, not afraid to show his softness... Of course thinking about making that man her husband had crossed her mind.

But as a serious thought, as a thought to happen at this time... That wasn’t even near close to being a thought in her head into she saw that ring.

Why would he do that, why would he introduce marriage into the equation, if it wasn’t serious about marrying her, about making her his wife and building a life with her?

It’s the morning when Kim’s shift finishes, and Adam’s still slumbering away in their—his—bed when she comes home. Normally, she’d concentrate on how cute, how peaceful he looks when he sleeps but she feels sick at the sight of him, all these thoughts and questions flooding her mind.

There’s room in the bed for her to climb into, but she can’t—she just can’t. Not when she’s just learnt this. She can’t lay her head next to his with betrayal sits in her heart, burning like a fierce woodland fire.

She grabs some spare blankets and pillows and sets up something on the sofa. She knows that when Adam wakes up, and sees her there, he’ll know something is up, something is wrong but Kim can’t find it in herself to care—not even with the knowledge that she had told Adam that she was sleeping for, hopefully, twelve hours today, so he’d know he wouldn’t get an answer to why she was on the sofa for hours.

When Kim comes too, it’s not the uncomfortable sofa lying under her back, but the nice comfortableness of Adam’s bed. She frowns slightly, as she sits up, confused to as she got here. She wonders, briefly, if she had imagined falling asleep on the couch before her mind wakes up properly and she realises that Adam must’ve carried her in here.

A sweet gesture like that would usually dampen the angry fire burning away in her heart but it doesn’t now; she’s too angry for it to. In fact, Kim thinks, it spurs on the fire, adding kindling to the flames, because how dare he move her? How dare he act as if he cares for her, as he clearly doesn’t, if he can look her in the eye and lie to her.

It’s not long before Kim’s heading out the bedroom, going to the living room. Sounds of Adam’s video games rings out and a darkness grips her heart as she wonders if the gesture wasn’t even that sweet, if it’s just because he needed the sofa to play his stupid games.

The gesture did nothing to melt her heart, but the thought of Adam not being motivated with kindness makes it more stony.

Kim is glad she doesn’t enter the room, guns blazing, as when she does, she sees that Adam is not alone, that Kevin is over, playing with him. She normally loves seeing the two most important men in her life hanging out, the sight always making her heart twist, but just like when she woke up in bed, in does nothing for her now.

“Hey, darlin’,” Adam spots her first, glancing briefly away from the TV to give her a smile. Kevin is then greeting her and she wishes she wasn’t so angry that she could even think about greeting Kevin back.

“You’ve been asleep for ages—I’m sorry about taking up all the bed. I assume that’s why you were on the sofa?” Adam continues talking, his eyes still looking at the TV as he does so, having not realised that something is up.

“Adam, stop the game.” Kim’s voice is devoid of it’s usual warmth.

“I will in a sec. Sorry, darlin’, I’m just so close to beating Kev,” Adam still doesn’t realise.

“The game’s not over yet, Ruzek.” Kevin apparently hasn’t either.

“Adam.” The word is chilled. “Turn it off. We need to talk, now. Kev, please, if you could leave.”

The game is paused then, the two turning to look at her. It’s almost comical how identical their oh fuck expressions are, and if Kim wasn’t so angry, so betrayed, so confused, she might’ve laughed at it.

Kevin moves first, quickly scrambling to get his stuff together, clearly seeing she means business. “Yeah, I should get home before Vinessa and Jordan do and wants dinner. Uh, nice seeing you. Bye.”

Kevin is not someone anyone messes with, even Adam having a moment of being spooked by him and the damage he could do to a person. But he looks like nothing more than a timid schoolboy now, as he hurries on out.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Adam asks as soon as Kevin shuts the door, having turned off the TV. He rises and he goes to come near here, his arms out, looking concerned. But she steps back, not wanting him anywhere near her.

“Why didn’t you tell your dad about the dinner?” She cuts straight to the point. Kim can see the moment, the oh shit moment, that Adam gets what she’s on about, but he plays dumb because apparently he wants to anger her more.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. On my shift, I ran into your dad and I mentioned Saturday—only he had no idea what I was on about. So yeah, Adam, I know you know what I mean.” Really, Kim is surprised how even she manages to keep her voice.

“I..uh.. I...” He flounders and Kim’s anger rises.

“It’s a simple question! You had a reason for not telling him, so tell me it.” when continues to flounder, Kim snaps. “Or don’t. It’s okay. I know why—you don’t want to marry me.”

“I—what?” Adam stares at her.

“I knew this was coming, I guess. But just answer me this—why lie? You do realise I’m going to have to tell my mother this? My mother! And she might not be your mother in law, now, but she’s still my mother and god, I thought you’d care enough about me to at least not create another thing for her to hold over me. And what was your end goal, tell me that? What was you going to do, on Saturday, when you needed to explain why Bob wasn’t coming?” Kim rants at him, letting all her hurt and betrayal out.

“I, uh. I was going to say that he cancelled, for overtime?” Adam looks sheepish, his expression showing he knows he fucked up.

“So, let me recap. Instead of just saying you don’t want to marry me you: lied, ensured you’d break my heart, make me think your dad prioritised overtime over his son and his son’s fiancée and what? Was you going to ditch my mom and I, as well?” Kim had thought her last boyfriend had told her the most outlandish lie ever, that she had left those days behind her.

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t very well thought out. But, baby, I promise you, it wasn’t because I don’t want to marry you. I love you, I want to marry you. With all my heart, darlin’, I swear.” She has to admit, with his earnest he sounds, how genuinely distraught he looks, Kim almost believes him.

“If that’s true, then why? Why would you ever lie about this? What do you have to gain from it?!” She asks, desperation and confusion clawing at her voice. Adam runs a hand through his hair, and it takes a few seconds, with a lot of hesitation, but then he’s speaking, explaining himself.

“Because! Because I was scared. Scared that if you really got to know Bob Ruzek, and saw how rude he no doubt would be to your mom, that you’d realise what kind of man he is? That he’s a screw up and not a particularly good man—or dad, honestly—and that... I was scared that you’d see who he really is, and think I’m the same. That you’d jump ship before you got yourself locked in with the junior Ruzek screw-up.” Adam started off loud, desperate, but ends so quiet, so sad it immediately puts out the flames in her heart, and her heart twists and all what she was feeling fades away, her love coming back tenfold and she questions why she ever doubted him.

“Adam. I already know that. Do you really think I like your father? I’ll deal, because he’s your pops, but I know who he really is.” Adam’s head jerks up at her words, a look Kim has never seen on his face before appearing and she realises that he hasn’t quite understood.

“But Adam, Adam look at me,” Kim moves towards him now, gently resting her hands on either side of his jaw, making him look at her. “And I know who you are. I know you’re not your father, because you are not a screw-up. You are a good man. Today? My partner asked about my fiancé, and I was so filled with pride at even the thought of you because I know exactly who you are.”

Kim knows she’s going to have to spend time questioning why she didn’t think to hear Adam out first, she knows it as she says this and realises the answers to all the questions she’s been having lately doesn’t lie in her head, or in the mouth of others like Roman, or even in Adam’s actions that initially confuses her, when she doesn’t give him a chance to explain; the answers aren’t anywhere but in her own heart.

Because she knows Adam Ruzek, her fiancé. And he is a good man, a man who loves her, who would never hurt her. A man who loves her so much that after just a year wanted to make her his wife.

A man who’s not perfect, who’s flawed and human—just like she, and everyone else is. And that means his behaviour will hurt and be confusing, but that doesn’t negate what she knows is in his heart.

“Kim, darlin’. If that’s true, then why would you think I don’t want to marry you? It’s okay, I know I’m a screw up and that I’ve been on borrowed time to have even a bit of you.” Adam says, quietly, resting his forehead against hers and her heart aches, hurts, as she realises just how much he hurts inside, how little he thinks of himself.

And that’s when she knows she doesn’t care when they get married, or move in properly, or any of that—all she cares about is making sure he knows, for the rest of his life, that he’s a good man, a definitely not a screw-up.

“I thought it because I was being stupid. I got caught up in this whole thing, this rut we’ve been in. I probably put more stock in other’s opinions more than what I know in my heart. But, baby, I know now. I promise. I love you,” Kim gently tilts her head to kiss him, softly, on his lips. She used to think the most love was in the passionate, all consuming kisses.

But loving Adam taught her that it’s these kinds of kisses that show the most love. The soft, gentle but oh so filled with love, affection, adoration kisses. The only kisses done when you truly know someone, when you love them all the way down, deep into your bones, your soul.

And that’s how she loves Adam.

#burzek #adam ruzek #kim burgess #chicago pd #kim burgess x adam ruzek #chicago pd fanfiction #fuck bob ruzek #ree writes #ree's.writing

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

Soulmate September

Series Summary- a collection of one shots exploring different ships and au concepts. The list I created and am following can be found here.

Day Two: My Favorite Parts

Summary: Roman worries over how to tell Patton xe wants to explore their soul bond. Xe should have known better than to doubt.

Warnings: food mention. If there’s more please let me know!

Ships: Royality (Roman x Patton)

Prompt: Body part glows when touching soulmate

WC: 1285

AO3

“M&M’s?”

“Yes please!”

“What about chocolate syrup?”

“Duh.”

“Logan would have a fit.”

“Logan follows the food pyramid too strictly for his own good. Besides, we both had…a healthy dinner. Pepperoni and mushroom pizza has most of the food groups on it.” Patton draped his arms over the back of the couch, watching with sparkling eyes as Roman prepared their popcorn. Roman pretended xe didn’t notice and bowed xyr head more to feign concentration. Xe loved Patton with everything xe had but sometimes a person wanted to get M&M placement right without admiring how cute xyr friend was being.

The placement didn’t matter of course but tonight was special. Fate would forgive xem for procrastinating with the way xyr stomach rolled with anxiety. Tonight xe were going to tell Patton xe loved him, and ask if they could take the first step in strengthening their bond. Xe had waited years to be sure xe knew how to tell Patton exactly what xe loved about him. Loaded sweet popcorn and a movie was hardly the most romantic way to do it but after mulling it over, the private intimacy of just the two of them sharing the moment seemed the ideal way to go. There was also the confidence that Patton’s consent would be given freely without the intimidation of any prying eyes pitying a potential rejection- Roman had never understood people who asked to further a soulbond in public.

Shaking xry head slightly to clear xyr thoughts xe refocused on the bowl and realized xe had used an entire bag of the chocolate to coat the popcorn...and there was still the matter of the syrup. Heaven help xem stop xyr mind from wandering from even the simplest of tasks. Xe were fairly used to getting lost in thoughts whether thinking about school, xyr job or following different plot bunnies from xyr latest creative endeavor at any given moment but today’s musing were truly getting out of hand. Thoughts of Patton and every single possible outcome had run through xyr mind from the moment xe had laid down the night before to xyr frantic last minute panic call with Logan to now and- well there went a fourth of a bottle of syrup.

Patton liked things sweet anyway- naturally considering well, everything about him. Hopefully the overly zealous snack wasn’t a deal breaker when it came to the ideal partnership in his eyes.

“You okay?”

Twitching hard enough to nearly append the bowl into xyr lap, Roman turned and grinned sheepishly, setting the sticky snack down between them on the couch. “Of course! I’m just...a little more lost in thought than usual; I apologize for worrying you.”

Patton smiled and shook his head. “No need to be sorry, just wanted to make sure. Planning a long night?”

Roman followed his gaze and winced at the state of the popcorn- more chocolate than kernels really- and gave a half hearted shrug. “I enjoy our time together. You can hardly blame me for wanting to extend our hangout in any way I could.”

“Oh!” Patton turned pink and looked away, reaching instead for the remote even as a smile brightened his face. “Any requests?”

“Whatever you like.”

Roman couldn’t have paid attention to the movie if xe tried, though xe did find it endlessly heartwarming that Patton had put on xyr favorite Disney movie for them to watch. He always knew when something was bothering xem and tried his hardest to help in whatever way he could- subtly be damned. One more thing that had had xem hopelessly smitten since middle school. The cheerful colors and familiar songs did help to release some of the knotting that had been tying xyr stomach up, allowing xem to focus on finding the perfect moment to-

“Hey Patton?” Xe blurted without thought, inwardly kicking xemselves for not having the barest hint of a filter. The movie was already paused however, with Patton turned to him with a soft smile and a hand out should xe want it for comfort. The sight nearly made xem cry, self doubt curling in xyr gut as xe wondered how it would feel to have the other man scoot away in disgust, never wanting to reach out again for fear of Roman ruining it.

“Take your time, it’s okay.” Patton sat back slightly but kept his hand out, Roman still refusing to take it as xe fiddled with their own instead.

Taking a deep breath, xyr movements still and xe looked up, not quite meeting Patton’s gaze. “I like you more than a friend. And I don’t know exactly what that means and I don’t want anything to change between us but I know I never want to stop talking with you and hearing your puns and making things with you so I was wondering if I could- if we could- you don’t have to agree of course but I-”

Roman had never stuttered so much in xyr life. Xe had always imagined this moment being big and romantic, just xem and xyr loved one together after a candlelit dinner and a flamboyant speech in which xe named every single thing xe had ever and would ever love about the person. The nature of the soul touch was such that when you touched someone with the intent to bond, you touched your favorite attribute of that person, sharing a glow only those in the bond could see. It was someone no one saw until they found their person, and while Roman found xemself unpredictably out of xyr depth xe knew xe had made the right choice.

Patton was still looking at xem through xyr brief turmoil, shock morphing slowly to barely restrained glee as he frantically nodded and scooted forward. “Roman yes. Please, no matter if things change or not I want to stay by your side.”

Reaching forward hesitantly as Patton scooched forward a little more, Roman took another steadying breath and gently swiped a thumb under Patton’s left eye, gasping in shock as a swirling glow of ruby moved under it and over his nose. It swept under his right eye and curled at the corner, never settling as it shimmered like iridescent glitter in a stream. Xe laughed lightly as Patton’s eyes crossed to see it, a massive grin overtaking his features even as his gaze flickered with curiosity.

“My eyes?” He asked.

“For how you see the world in such a beautiful way, unshakably positive even in the darkest of corners.” Patton had always been an optimist but even beyond that there was beauty that could be persuaded out of everything he set his gaze to. Rare was the occasion that something would fail to bring him joy, and Roman admired that endlessly.

Smiling wider, Patton reached forward and took xyr hands in his, kissing the knuckles softly as brilliant blue encased xyr fingers.

“It’s easy to see things that way when your hands create such lovely things. Not only your creations, but the comfort you offer- how can I not see the world as beautiful when you make it such a wonderful place to be in?”

Roman laughed, nearly on the verge of tears as xe leaned forward to hold Patton close. “I’m supposed to be the romantic one how dare you encroach on my territory!”

“I can compete sometimes.” Patton laughed with him and relaxed, burying his face into xyr neck.

“We’ll have plenty of time for it.” Even as xe said it, it hit xem that xe had the rest of xyr life to shower Patton with as much affection as the man could possibly hold.

Roman couldn’t wait to keep score with xyr soulmate.

If you like this, please consider reblogging. Sharing a creators work helps more people see it.

#false writes #sanders sides #soulmate september #ts soulmate september #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw food mention #my writing #royality

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

Text

Pretty Voice

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, all canon-typical. these are just some angsty bois sometimes, huh. other than that, none. this thing’s pretty fluffy.

Pairings: Logince. Can be platonic or romantic you choose, I don’t know anymore.

Word Count: 6367

The Imagination has a theatre. Roman holds concerts regularly. The others are invited to perform but Roman is the star. Today, it’s just him and Logan. Logan’s never wanted to perform. He sits a few rows back from the stage so he can see better and so his eardrums don’t get blown out. Also so Roman can’t really see Logan.

In other words: this isn't the first time Logan's made himself hard to see. It isn't the first time he's struggled to be heard either. Maybe it's time Roman did something about that.

It’s been about half an hour. Logan’s been clapping after every song, offering honest feedback which just happens to be very complimentary. Roman adores his compliments, they’re so unique and genuine. Logan did confess a few songs ago that he is having trouble keeping up with how incredible the performances have been, always finding something new to compliment all the same. And yet when he finishes quite a spectacular rendition about ‘From Now On,’ Logan’s silent. No clapping either. In fairness, the end of the song does kind of fade out, so…but Roman thinks it’s something else.

“Well, if you didn’t like the song,” he huffs melodramatically, perching his hands on his hips, “you could’ve just said so.”

His joking demeanor fades when Logan startles terribly.

“Huh? Oh, oh, my apologies,” Logan stammers, “I just…I fear I lost focus. It was…an incredible rendition.”

Roman squints a little. It’s really…how has he not noticed that it’s pretty hard to see Logan? Has he really been so involved in the performance?

Well, he has to admit, it’s pretty intoxicating. Especially with the acoustics they’ve got in the theatre.

“…are you sure you don’t want to try,” he asks, gesturing to the stage, “just a little song? Just one?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m perfectly alright.”

“One verse,” he bargains, “a chorus?”

“I couldn’t hope to follow you.”

“Well yes, I am magnificent, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be too.”

Logan smiles and shakes his head again. Roman frowns, coming right to the edge of the stage and crouching down so he’s closer to Logan’s eye-line.

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yes, I am perfectly alright, thank you.”

“And here I thought Deceit was the living lie detector.”

Logan shifts. “Well, it follows that you would have some sense as well. You’re an actor, aren’t you?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“‘Focus on issues or focus on me,’ as I recall, is one of your favorite catchphrases.”

Yes, it is, but Roman would rather focus on the issues right now. “Come here.”

“What?”

He smiles, beckoning with a finger. “Come here.”

Logan does, standing up and walking down the aisle. Roman waits until he’s fairly close to stand up and jump down from the stage.

“And…up we go!”

Laughing as Logan squeaks in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders, Roman picks him up and sets him on the stage. He rests his forearms on either side of Logan’s thighs, keeping a light grip on his hips. Even with the height of the stage and the slight downhill slope of the aisle, Roman’s still a little bit taller than Logan, so he takes a step back until they’re eye level.

“And…perfect,” he says, and leans forward until they’re almost nose to nose, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Hello.”

“…um, hello.” Logan glances around, still trying to work out why he’s no longer on the floor. “Why am I up here?”

So I can cuddle you while I ask you what’s wrong, of course. “Well, I figured shouting across the theatre perhaps wasn’t the best idea.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I believe ‘projecting’ is the correct term.”

“So you have been paying attention.”

“I do have some theatre experience. I am a part of Thomas, after all.”

Roman gasps, mock-offended. “And yet you still won’t sing for me?”

“Believe it or not, my prince, I have no desire to humiliate myself like that.”

Oh, we’re using pet-names, now, are we? Well, lucky for Logan, Roman’s an expert.

“Dearest,” he coos, “you really shouldn’t sell yourself short like that. After all—“ he runs a thumb over Logan’s pink cheek, smiling— “sweetheart, you’re lovely.”

Logan shuts their eyes, making Roman chuckle as they bury their face in their hands. “Did you have to do that?”

“Do what, my sweet?”

“You,” Logan says weakly, and oh, he must be flustered if he’s so far gone from his typical articulation, “with the pet-names.”

“Well, darling, you did start it.” Logan shakes his head, only to blush brighter when Roman winks at him. “And what kind of prince would I be if I didn’t flirt with every dashing fellow I came across?”

“You’d be you,” Logan says, “isn’t that enough?”

Roman’s smile falters and before he can stop himself it slips out.

“…is it?”

Logan frowns, blush receding as he tilts his head. “Of course it is, Roman. You…you are an incredible force. Your work ethic rivals that of anyone else, including my own. Your resilience is something to be admired as well, not to mention how hard you work to keep Thomas as the center of your efforts. And you…your abilities…and how selflessly you share them with us…”

Logan takes a deep breath and smiles. “Of course it’s enough, Roman, you’re enough.”

Roman may have the high ground when it comes to flirting, but he has nothing on Logan’s sincere eloquence. All he can do is bathe in the words, try and soak up every single bit of it Logan gives him.

“…you believe me,” Logan murmurs, “right?”

“You really are too sweet to me,” Roman says finally, “aren’t you, little bear?”

He’s rewarded with an adorably confused head tilt. “‘Little bear?’”

“I like to think of you like a little bear,” Roman says, regaining some of his confidence as Logan starts to blush again. “Because you’re an excellent cuddler, just like a teddy bear. You are unmatched in your ability to comfort the rest of us—though don’t tell Patton I said that—and you are fiercely protective of your cubs.”

“And with this jacket—“ Roman pats the thick, fluffy, light brown jacket just about swallowing Logan’s form he’d been given when Roman noticed him shivering in the chill of the theater— “you’re just like a fuzzy little teddy bear!”

To prove his point, he flips up the hood, miscalculating just how floppy it is and smacking Logan in the face with it, sending them both into a fit of giggles.

“And bears like honey. Honey is sweet. And you,” Roman says, leaning close enough to bump their noses together, “are very, very sweet.”

He chuckles when Logan makes a frustrated noise and pulls the hood further over his flushed little face. They’re so cute.

“Aww,” he teases, tugging at the hood, “don’t hide from me, little bear! Let me see you!”

A brief tug-of-war later—in which Roman totally doesn’t cheat by sneaking his hand down and scribbling his nails over his knee—and he pulls the hood away, revealing an adorably flushed Logan pouting at him.

“There you are,” he says, reaching forward to boop his nose. “If you don’t like it, Logan, I can come up with another one.”

“No,” Logan mumbles, “I…I like it.”

Roman takes pity on the blushing mess on the stage in front of him, helping Logan tug the collar of the jacket a little snugger around his neck. “Little bear it is, then.”

Logan, meanwhile, is having a crisis.

Because Roman couldn’t just invite him to spend some one on one time in the Imagination, no. He had to sing to him in the most incredible voice he’s ever heard and then ask if Logan wanted to sing. He had to ask Logan if he was alright in that soft voice that he knows he likes. And he had to pick Logan up like he weighed nothing and set him on the stage, curving his body around him like he was something to be protected.

And he had to give him a personalized nickname and tease him about how cute he is.

And he had to be really, really attractive.

He’s right here, he’s touching you, and you still want more? He made up a special little nickname for you and you aren’t satisfied? What else do you want?

Don’t burden him with your problems too. He’s got his own stuff to deal with. He’s got more of a right to be upset about these things than you do.

You’re not even supposed to be upset in the first place.

“Little bear?”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re going to use that every chance you get, aren’t you?”

“Well, that and depending on how you feel about pet names—“

Why did you nod, you useless gay?

Roman’s smile just widens. “Then yes. Yes, I am. So, my sweet little bear—“ internal screaming can commence now, thank you— “what’s got you looking like someone stole all your honey?”

“I don’t…I don’t want…if you are not in a good headspace—“

Rolling his eyes fondly, Roman resettles his grip on Logan’s hips. “Gorgeous, if you keep being as sweet as you are, I am going to get a toothache.”

And Logan thinks he can brush it off, toss some meaningless barb back that’ll either get Roman to talk about something else or at least flirt with him to pass the time instead, but then Roman says: “you can talk to me, little bear,” in a voice so gentle it makes his chest ache.

Where do I start? How do I start? What if I say the wrong thing? Do I even remember how to do this?

What if he changes his mind?

This is stupid, just talk. You know how. Just say something. Anything.

“Sorry, I am…not the most articulate right now.”

“If the bountiful praise you lavished upon me earlier is any indication, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

Well, there goes that excuse.

Why is this so hard for you? He’s not a mind-reader, you will actually have to talk to him. Isn’t that what you’ve been preaching, you hypocrite?

Do you even have anything to say?

You’re not just going to make something up for attention, are you?

Or is that what you’re doing now? Stalling for attention?

What’s the point of you having a voice if you’re not going to use it?

Now you’re just wasting his time.

The lightest touch on the side of his head and Logan startles terribly. Roman shushes him, finishing tucking a strand of hair out of the way.

“…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No!”

Roman blinks, taken aback by the shout. Shit. Logan curls his fists in the coat.

“No,” he mumbles again, “I…”

Great job. Say something.

Roman watches Logan war with himself, growing more and more worried as his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. When he hasn’t moved for a few minutes, he racks his brain for a way to help.

“Once upon a time,” he murmurs finally, smiling gently when Logan’s gaze flicks to his, “there was a forest. A small forest, not too big, where all sorts of creatures lived. Cats, snakes, spiders, frogs, owls, dragons, bears…all sorts.”

As he talks, he rubs soothing circles into their hips with his thumbs.

“And they all had secrets, because everybody does, and they all kept their secrets in different places. At the bottom of their ponds, tucked away in their burrows, hidden their nests…”

Roman steps closer, bracing most of his weight on one arm, wrapping it around Logan’s back to hold them close.

“Where does the little bear keep their secrets?”

He takes his free hand and carefully pushes the flaps of the jacket aside, laying it gently on Logan’s stomach.

“What about here, in their belly? Where all the sweet honey goes? Maybe if I poke it a bit—“ Roman gently prods at a few spots, smiling when Logan giggles and squirms— “the secrets will come out. No, no, that’s a giggle. Maybe over here? On their sides? No, those are more giggles. Hmm…well, this may just be a giggle button.”

A little squeeze here, a little scribble there. Roman smiles when Logan’s face starts to glow that lovely pink again, his giggles still flowing out. He’s more than happy to stand here and lightly tickle Logan until he feels better, but when Logan starts gently batting at his chest and shoulders, trying to push him away, he relents.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, “well, I think there are only giggles in here. Let’s just…pat them a bit to calm them back down.”

He rubs his tummy firmly to soothe away any lingering tingles, then raises his hand to lay over Logan’s upper chest.

“What about here, in their chest? Right here…next to their heart. Oh, I can feel it,” he says, pressing his hand a little firmer, feeling the reassuring thud, “it’s a strong heart. Which makes sense, after all, for our little bear. But…”

Roman searches Logan’s face. Not yet.

“…no. No secrets here.”

Moving slowly, slow enough that Logan can stop him if he wants, Roman tucks his hand against his neck, feeling his pulse against his hand.

“What about here,” he says, “in their throat? Right next to these lovely vocal chords they’re so shy about, maybe if they sing a little, their secrets will come tumbling out?”

It makes the tiniest smile come to Logan’s face but he shakes his head. Roman pouts, unable to keep up the façade when it makes the smile grow.

“Alright then. No. No secrets here.”

Roman takes his hand away, stroking down the fluffy sleeve of the jacket, feeling the soft material tickle his palm. He slides it down to the warm wood of the stage, straightening his posture—the only straight thing on him—so he can lean against the stage between Logan’s knees, hands going back to his hips.

“Well,” he says softly, “I don’t know where else to look, little bear.”

Please, Logan, let me help you.

A trembling hand takes his, guiding it up, up, up to press his fingertips carefully to the underside of Logan’s chin.

“…here? Under your tongue? Oh…oh, I can feel them…there’s so many, you’re so tense here…”

He carefully rubs and presses, feeling how tight Logan’s jaw is. Logan swallows heavily and Roman feels his tongue move.

“Does it hurt, little bear?”

Shake.

“No? Are you sure?”

He won’t meet his eyes. Oh, Logan…

“Well, it can’t be comfortable, holding them all like that. Is…is this why your head feels so heavy? Here,” he says, cupping his chin properly, coaxing him to rest his head in his hand, “let me hold it for a little.”

That’s it, he smiles as Logan’s head sinks into his hand. He gives it a soft squeeze.

“Now, why don’t we try and see if we can make this a little easier for you, little bear? In fact, I…I think I can feel one…right here.”

He takes his other hand and mimes plucking something from the air in front of him.

“I think it wants to come out.”

He moves his hand away, slowly pulling the secret away, drawing it up and out. Logan’s mouth opens, yes, come on, you can do it…

“…I’m scared.”

Roman rubs his fingers together and sprinkles the harmful secret away. “And…poof. It’s gone.”

He comes back, resting his hand on Logan’s knee. “Good job, little bear. And it’s okay to be scared, I promise. And I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Logan’s worried little brow relaxes and it makes the ache in his chest release, just a little. Then he feels Logan’s chin wobble.

“Oh…oh, here’s another one…feel it?” He plucks another one from the air. “I’ve got it, don’t worry, here we go…”

“…I…”

“…say it,” he coaxes, “go on.”

“…I haven’t…done this…in…so long, I…I’m not…I…don’t…”

Logan swallows. Roman brings his hand a little closer to their face but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know if I remember how to do this.”

“That was a stubborn one,” Roman says softly, “wasn’t it?”

Logan nods. Roman turns to address his hand, still clutching the pesky secret.

“You’ve been living there for a long time, haven’t you? Well, I’ll have you know that’s quite rude,” he scolds. “You’ve caused my little bear an awful lot of discomfort. Now begone.”

He swats it away with a disgusted expression, softening when he feels the low rumble of a laugh in his other hand. Looking back, he sees Logan looking…a little better, at least.

“You feel a little lighter, my dear,” he observes. Logan nods. “Good.”

Taking Logan’s chin in both hands, he rubs his fingers along his jaw. “Let me see…feel around a little… any more loose ones?”

Anything else you’d like to tell me? Or talk about?

“…one.”

Roman nods. “Alright. Let me see…”

He waves his hand a bit in the air in front of them, as if he’s searching for something to grab onto. Finally, he picks a spot and forms a pinch.

“Ah. Here. Oh…oh, this one…” He gently tugs on it. “This one feels heavy. Like there’s a lot of it. Oh, you poor thing, shall we try and see if we can get this to stop hurting you?”

This time, Logan doesn’t hesitate and nods.

“Let’s see…it feels quite long…hefty. So, how about this: I will start pulling out the bits that feel a little loose already, and whenever it starts to come, you just say it for me, alright?”

Logan nods.

“Wonderful.”

With that, he begins to pull, miming retrieving a long, magician’s scarf out of Logan’s mouth. When his chin starts to wobble again against his hand, Roman frowns.

“Putting up a fight, are we? Well, this looks like a job for two hands.”

Standing at his full height, he starts doing the motion with two hands. One of the biggest parts of improv, apart from ‘yes and,’ is object work, and he coils the scarf neatly on the floor next to him, making sure he’s still pulling it out of Logan’s mouth, walking his hands along the scarf.

Logan wants to. He really wants to. But the words just won’t come out. So much so that when he opens his mouth his breath literally catches in his throat.

“Oh…oh dear,” Roman says worriedly, tugging a little, “it’s…it’s stuck.”

He mimes trying to pull it away with both hands but gets nowhere.

“It’s…it’s really stuck. I don’t want to hurt you but it’s being very stubborn.”

He frowns, keeping one hand tightly around the secret and using the other to cup Logan’s chin again.

“Maybe I can make it loose back here…maybe if I feel around…find where it’s stuck.”

The searching motions of his fingers under Logan’s chin make him fidget a little. Roman sees, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Maybe I can tickle it loose, hmm? If I tickle very gently,” he murmurs, scribbling his fingers lightly all over the sensitive skin, smiling as it coaxes more giggles out of him, “can I tickle it loose? No, no, that’s just getting me giggles. You really do have a lot of giggle buttons, little bear. Oh, oh no, it’s going back in, well, that’s not going to work.”

He stops, cupping Logan’s chin firmly, letting him calm back down. Poor thing doesn’t even have the strength to look embarrassed or flustered, no, he just looks frustratingly hopeless. If he wasn’t holding his chin, Roman’s sure Logan’s head would drop right to his chest and he’d never want to raise it again.

“…oh, little bear, is it hurting you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a bit…hmm…darling, will you listen to me for a moment?”

Logan nods.

“Close your eyes. I have this pesky thing, it won’t be going anywhere.”

The sheer amount of trust it must take for Logan to close his eyes, resting almost the entire weight of his head in Roman’s hand, makes Roman a little light-headed. But he has a job to do here, so he comes forward until his nose is just about brushing Logan’s forehead.

“You are not making me do this,” he whispers, “I’m here because I want to be here. I will keep your secrets safe, I promise.”

He lowers his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Logan. Not with me.”

Logan opens his eyes. It pinches in the little pouch where his chin meets his neck.

“…for as long as I can remember…”

Roman pulls the scarf out once and grabs it again.

“…I…”

His hand moves an inch.

“…have…”

Another inch.

“Are you seriously going to do that word by word?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Deep breath.

“…for as long as I can remember, I have never been a part of any kind of relationship where it does not hinge on how useful I am.”

Logan closes his eyes, feeling Roman’s hand leave his chin.

“I…I am a function that is indispensable but not one that is wanted.”

Swallows. Keeps going. The pinch doesn’t let up.

“My entire being is based on how much I know. What I can do. And…and if I cannot do the thing I am meant to do, I…I cannot exist. But there are so many things I cannot do in order to do the things I need to do.”

The pinch still doesn’t let up.

“And I…I let it happen.”

Has silence always been this deafening?

“Because I have no choice.”

The pinch spreads, turns to a clench.

“…I am useful. I can explain things to you when you need them explained. I can help you sort through things that you do not fully understand. I can provide solutions to problems when they arise.”

He tugs the jacket tighter around himself, trying to huddle in a cocoon of safety.

“I…I am Logic. I am Logic. That is my job.”

The words curl on his tongue and taste bitter. He briefly wonders if this is what Janus feels like.

“But it is not only my job when it is convenient,” he spits, “it is always my job. And I…I have to be able to do my job. B-because if I don’t, you’ll—“

He swallows heavily.

“…I understand that…there are many things that you and the others do that I do not understand. And I understand that I am…convenient. And when I am not, I—you—“

He huffs. “I understand that I do not understand.”

It’s hot. It’s too hot. The jacket is sweltering, trapping him now. But he can’t let go, can’t move. Can only speak.

“And I cannot understand. Because that would require me to have emotion. And I cannot have emotion. I am Logic. Logic cannot have emotion because logic falls apart when emotions come into play. But I can’t just be Logic!”

It comes out in a horrible burst of agony, ripping up his throat as it comes out.

It h-hurts.

It hurts.

“…you do not require me or Logic.”

He curls into the jacket, not caring about how much it hurts.

“I…I know that logic must always have a place. I know that sometimes you would rather not listen to Logic. But s-sometimes…”

The others don’t always want Logic. They don’t always want Logan either.

“I cannot be human,” he whispers, “I cannot be held to the same standard as a human.”

I am a being of Logic. I am the Logical Side.

“…I cannot have the same luxuries as a human.”

Emotion is a luxury I cannot always afford.

“…I have tried. For you and for Thomas, to…be Logic.”

They didn’t see. They never saw.

“And it has worked. It has worked so well that I—I—”

The line between Logan and Logic blurs so much that it is near impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. But now…

Now when Logic has been silenced, not even Logan can speak.

“…I am Logic.”

Who is Logan?

“I…I know I have feelings, but I…I can’t. I’m not—Logic is not equipped to deal with them. I know I have to be Logic, but I…I can’t.”

Logan was being an inconvenience. Because he was taking more time than I should be. Because everyone else was ready to move on…and Logan wasn’t. Logic was.

“…and I will stay. Because you need Logic.”

Logic would stop talking during a conversation because no one wanted to hear Logic. Logic didn’t care about my emotions, only how I could help them deal with theirs.

“Because you have always needed L-Logic.”

Logic. Logic. Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

I am so scared, so scared of not being useful that I let other people introduce me. Because you would know how I could be the most useful.

I must be useful.

I must be Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

They do not want to listen to Logic. They silence Logic.

They do not even know Logan exists.

“If…if I was smart…you kept me. If I was hardworking, you kept me. If I was useful, you kept me.”

And when I wasn’t enough, they replaced me.

I can’t be Logan. Not here.

…can I be Logic?

Will that be enough?

“…if I’m Logic, will you keep me?”

Silence.

His hands are balled so tightly in his jacket they ache.

He can’t remember the last time he’s talked so much.

He can’t remember the last time Roman was so silent.

What…what has he done?

“I’m—I’m sorry—“

“Don’t you dare, Logan.”

Logan’s head snaps up in horror. Roman stares at him, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. A blazing fury burns in his gaze and Logan shrinks, trying to make himself smaller.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he repeats in a low voice.

Is…are those…tear stains?

Roman tried. He tried to just pull the secret out, lend a sympathetic ear, return the favor Logan had given him so many times. But he couldn’t. Tears had welled up by the time he’d mentioned the others only keep him around because he’s convenient. He can’t…he can’t imagine…having to stifle something so integral to himself like emotions, being kept around only because he was useful, being tokenized and objectified over and over and over and reminded that he wasn’t enough on his own…

And not being able to sing? To do all the things that Roman can do, is permitted to do as Creativity?

“Oh, oh, sweetheart,” he manages to gasp, “come here—“

He’s sobbing. He’s sobbing, the tears bubbling up as he reaches desperately for Logan, for his face that…that isn’t crying at all, how can he go through this much and not cry, do…can he not cry anymore?

That only makes him cry harder.

“You’re—you’re wanted, Logan, so—so much, I want you, I need you to—to stay, yes, we’ll—we’ll keep you, oh, darling—“

He understands. He understands so much and it hurts because there are so many secrets nested inside that big secret and it’s so much and he’s so proud of Logan, for surviving, for telling him—

He needs Logan closer. He tugs him off the stage, into his arms, holding him up, holding him close, scooping him into a tight hug.

And oh, it’s exactly the way a heroic knight should hug. Strong. Powerful. Protective. It’s safe as Logan clings to him. He feels safe. Cared for.

Loved?

It’s only when Roman goes to cup Logan’s head that he realizes he’s not really holding that much of Logan’s weight in his arms. Instead, he realizes Logan’s clinging to him just as tightly, their bodies curving into each other as Logan holds himself up by his legs wrapped over his hips.

“…well,” he murmurs, “aren’t you strong?”

“I can hold my own.”

“I know you can, Logan,” he says, pulling back a little so he can see Logan’s face, “but it’s okay if you don’t always want to.”

Logan looks at him, one of the few times where this means he has to look down, a soft smile on his face. “It’s fine for you too.”

Roman can’t help but shake his head in disbelief as he sets Logan—gently!—back on the stage. “How are you already back to taking care of me?”

Logan shrugs. “Instinct? Habit?”

Useful. Right.

They all need to work on that, to work on this, for Logan. Not for Logic, not for Thomas, for Logan.

“In all seriousness,” Logan mumbles, “thank you.”

“No,” Roman corrects, his arms still tightly around Logan, “thank you.”

And when Logan looks up he’s so hopeful that Roman has to lean forward and rub their noses together.

“Is…is this how it f-feels?”

Oh.

“Yes, Logan,” Roman breathes, trying to push the feelings across that little gap between them, “this is how it feels.”

“…I…I—“

“You don’t have to say anything, dear heart,” Roman soothes, “truly.”

Logan’s eyes drift closed and Roman frowns, worried when he takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes tighter.

“…is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Make what up?”

“Pay you back then.”

“For what?”

“Roman…”

He relents. Of course he relents. Even if the question made him want to wrap Logan up in a warm blanket and tell him he’ll be safe forever, or leave them with the others and grab his brother and go teach whatever nasty beastly voices in Logan’s head caused this a lesson, he relents. He understands how hard this must’ve been for Logan.

“…yes, there is something you can do for me.”

Logan looks up and the plea in his expression is almost enough to break Roman’s heart all over again.

“When you say you don’t understand,” Roman says softly, still tracing idle patterns over Logan’s back, “some of the things we do, can you give me an example?”

“P-Patton bakes,” Logan manages, “I…I have seen Remus draw. Virgil listens to music or he…he runs. Janus dances.”

He gestures around the theater. “You sing.”

Roman smiles gently. “Will you sing something for me?”

Logan’s breath catches and he tenses, despite Roman’s efforts to soothe him. “…it’s not going to be any good.”

“Who said anything about being good?”

He reaches up to cup Logan’s face in his hands.

“I don’t care if you’re too loud. I don’t care if you’re too quiet. I don’t care if it’s too high. I don’t care what key you’re in,” he says firmly.

Oh, he wants to go and make sure whatever put that unsure look on his face never happened.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs instead, “it’s just you and me. I want to hear you, little bear. And to prove to yourself that you can.”

A few moments later and Logan breaks out into the smallest of smiles.

“…so what am I singing?”

“Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” Roman says with a smile, “you choose the song, dearest.”

“I…”

“I don’t care what it is. It doesn’t have to be some big, meaningful choice. I’m not here for Logic, I’m here for Logan.”

He knows how hard it can be to be alone on stage, so he steps back to boost himself up to sit next to them.

“…would it help if I sing with you?”

“No.”

Roman looks down at the floor. Even though his feet can just about touch, it…it looks miles away. And he should know how hard it is to pick a song to sing, especially when he hasn’t sung in a while. There’s just so many to choose from, and if you’re scared about what you’re going to be able to sing, then…

Perhaps this was too much to ask.

For a moment, he thinks his phone’s going off, or someone’s computer outside the Imagination, playing an a cappella version of ‘Bright Lights and Cityscapes.’

Then…then he looks.

Logan’s voice, not quite polished, a little worn, makes him cry all over again. It’s just this side of warm, full of longing and heartbreak and barely restrained sorrow and so, so good.

He finishes the song and Roman immediately wants to clamor for another one.

“…you have been holding out on me, darling.”

“You…you like my voice?”

“Oh, dearest, I could write ballads about it.”

“You do not have to.”

“But there are so many songs you could sing so well, and I will never understand how we could silence you, how we could make you believe we don’t want to hear you…”

Logan blushes a pretty pink, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling. And Roman just has to shuffle a little closer to tilt his chin up to see it properly. It’s lovely.

He cups Logan’s chin, feeling the spot under his tongue.

“…still a few more in there, hmm?”

Logan nods, his fingers twitching and growing restless. He looks down to see Logan stimming with the gold trim on his clothes, running his fingers over the coarse twine. Roman smiles, shifting a little to let him work his way along the lines, up the seams, to the ones on his chest. The blush stays on Logan’s cheeks, obviously a little nervous about touching him this way, but…stimming is stimming. Roman understands.

“Do you like it?”

Logan nods.

“I like the sash too,” he says quietly, gently smoothing it right next to Logan’s hand, encouraging him to do the same, “smooth, right?”

“I seem to recall a song lyric about being buried in satin?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to sing it for me.”

“…I believe the song is called ‘If I Die Young.’”

“You’ll have to sing it.”

“Do you know it?”

“Yes.” When Logan looks up at him, he understands. “Do you?”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it?”

“…most of it.”

“May I sing it with you?”

“If you like.”

He ruffles Logan’s hair gently. “You start then.”

His hand slows where it’s toying with his sash. Then…

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…oh, oh…” Logan looks up at him. He smiles and sings the verse.

“Lord, make me a rainbow,

I’ll shine down on my mother.

She’ll know I’m safe with you

when she stands under my colors, oh.

Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no.

Ain’t even gray but she buries her baby.”

He raises his eyebrows, dipping to sing the harmony for: “The sharp knife,

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

The next chorus is smoother, Roman’s smile growing as Logan’s voice starts to ring. His harmony grows warmer.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

Logan may have been lying about not knowing all of the song, because here Roman is, happily singing the harmony.

“And I’ll be wearing white—“ Roman raises his eyebrows, making them laugh—

“when I come into your kingdom,

I’m as green as the ring

on my little cold finger, I’ve

never known the loving of a man

but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand—“

Roman covers Logan’s hand, holding it firmly to his chest, thrilling at the way it makes Logan’s voice stutter just a little on the next line.

“—there’s a boy here in town, says he’ll

love me forever.

Who would’ve thought forever would be severed by

the sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

And damn can Logan hit that high note. He whistles in approval, grinning wider when Logan just…keeps it going.

“So put on your best boys,

and I’ll wear my pearls…

what I never did is done…”

The smile fades when Logan’s face drops, looking back at Roman’s chest. The hand under Roman’s begins to tremble as he keeps singing.

“A penny for my thoughts, oh no,

I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar.

They’re worth so much more

after I’m a goner,

and maybe then you’ll hear the words I’ve been singing.

Funny when you’re dead, how people start listening…”

No. Not Logan. Not on his watch. Not on any of their watches.

Roman shifts even closer, letting Logan lean his full weight on him, clutching his hand tenderly to his chest. For a moment, he thinks they’re going to just let the song end there, he wouldn’t blame him, Logan’s already made him so proud, then…

Then Logan takes a deep breath and raises his chin. A single tear stands out on his face. And it’s beautiful.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…the ballad of a dove,

filled with peace and love.

Gather up your tears,” Roman sings as he wipes it away,

“keep them in your pocket,

save ‘em for a time

when you’re really gonna need ‘em, oh.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

He’s so proud of them. He’s so proud.

“So put on your best, boys,” Logan sings, holding Roman’s gaze, “and I’ll wear my pearls…”

The last note fades out. They’re breathless, even despite the relatively easy nature of the song. Roman clutches Logan’s hand tightly to his chest, Logan leans against Roman.

Roman reaches out and gently trails a finger in an arc around Logan’s neck, creating a string of pearls that lay just over his collarbones.

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #roman sanders #logan sanders #logan sanders angst #logince #romantic logince #platonic logince #you choose I don't know #sympathetic roman #sympathetic logan

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scwmander · 3 years

Text

hermione granger and remus lupin were greek mythology hoes (and their significant others had to put up with it. until they met each other.)

remus and hermione were greek mythology hoes in their own way. hermione read the books and could not shut up about how brilliant and poetic and incredible they were. remus didn’t talk about them much. but he was always with a book in his bag and if you asked, he knew every single greek story, every single god and their family tree. and of course, their close friends/partners would know about this undying love.

sirius loved learning about all the myths and creatures and gods from remus, he actually found them pretty interesting and asked remus to read the myths out loud to him

ron wasn’t so fond of it himself. but he would listen to hermione talk about all the books she was reading for hours nevertheless, and sometimes he would reference the myths or gods in conversation and it would make hermione so happy

and hermione did this way before she and ron were together, and harry found it as boring as ron did, but he couldn’t be bothered so he always found a way to get out of the conversation. ron was simping already so he truly didn’t mind it, he just thought she looked so beautiful and passionate (although he would never admit this of course) and he would just admire her.

sirius’ favorite story was achilles and the trojan war and he would always ask remus to tell him that one.

the one story ron was actually interested in was perseus’ because “it’s the only one with a happy ending”

once, remus walked into the classroom to find hermione with her nose buried in her copy of “the illiad”. he walked over to her desk before he began the class and asked her “have you read homer’s odyssey?” “no, professor. not yet. i’m dying to, but i can never seem to find one in bookshops and the library doesn’t have a copy.” “well, stay a little longer after class and i’ll lend you mine. i’m sure you’ll love it” and she just smiles so big because she never had someone to geek out over greek mythology with her

so she borrows remus’ copy and she devours it in two weeks (which is probably inhuman because the odyssey is impossible to read but she’s hermione granger so she does it)

it then becomes a tradition. by hermione’s fifth year, she and remus had traded countless books. all about greek mythology (sometimes roman). when they were having order meetings, in all the breaks they had they would both grab a cup of tea and go read and gush over their latest read together.

ron and sirius missed all the passion but they were glad their significant others had found one another

and when remus passed, he left hermione all his greek mythology books and she treasured those things like they were her children.

she then read it to teddy and got him super into it as well, and eventually she had a new greek mythology buddy <3

#remus lupin #hermione granger #greek mythology #harry potter headcanon #sirius black #ron weasley #bookish #nerd culture #harry potter #the marauders #marauders #the golden trio #perseus #achilles

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mothspore · 4 years

Text

walk me home

i still have literally no idea how to set this up so i guess here’s this

pairing: logince

warnings: none

it’s literally just fluff uhhh

do i need a summary? someone please teach me how to do this i’m dying

Logan sighed as he stepped out of the lobby of his building. He had a long day at work, and didn’t feel comfortable walking home at night, especially not in the freezing rain, when he only really had a light jacket. And so, he ended up calling Roman down, because he was the only person Logan knew who would be crazy enough to be up at 2am.

One thing was wrong with his logic though—apparently, Roman wasn’t crazy enough to be awake at 2am. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, to the point where Logan was about to just suck it up and walk home on his own. Then he picked up.

“Logan? What the hell? Do you know what time it is?” Roman asked, voice still heavy with sleep. Logan immediately felt awful for waking him up, knowing how few hours of sleep he must get because of college.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware that you were asleep. You usually stay up quite late.”

“Yeah, well, university is exhausting me. But why did you call? It’s not like you to call me just because, especially not at 2am,” he said mid-yawn.

“Well, you have a point there. It really—It’s not an issue, I can handle it on my own, I’m sorry for waking you. You should go back to sleep, I can walk home on my own.”

“What? You’re out?”

“Well—Yes, my work day ended up running a little late—”

“A little late? At 2am?”

“—okay, a lot late. Regardless, I only finished just recently, and I didn’t feel comfortable walking home alone in the rain. However, if it’s a matter of feeling uncomfortable or your health, the obvious priority is your health.”

“Well, it’s your health, too, Lo. You know to trust your gut, if you’re hesitant, there’s a good reason. And it’s raining, you could get sick. Where are you?”

“What? No, go back to sleep!”

“We’ve been talking for a few minutes now, I’m up. And I’m coming to get you. Do you have a proper coat?”

“Roman, no! I can walk home on my own, I’m just being overdramatic. You don’t need to come get me. Seriously. Go back to sleep.”

“Logan, shut up. Now do you have a coat?”

Logan sighed in defeat. He knew that now that Roman had his mind set, there was no changing it. “No, I don’t. Thank you, Roman. You don’t have to do this.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. What kind of person would I be if I just let you freeze out there?” Logan heard a noise that was undeniably Roman grabbing some coats. “Damn it! I forgot my roommate borrowed the car to visit family… Damn. Alright, I’m going to take a little longer than I thought. Here, go back inside your building, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Logan told Roman the address, and he hung up. He turned to go back inside, and then remembered the automatic lock on the doors. He was stuck outside in the cold until Roman got here. The icy rain splashed down on his head, leaving droplets on his glasses and soaking his jacket. He sighed shakily and shivered, hoping that Roman would get here soon.

He was very flattered that Roman seemed to care enough about him to run out in the middle of the night in the rain to get his stupid ass home. He chuckled a bit, knowing he’d do the same for Roman. Although he had to admit that his reasons were probably quite different than Roman’s. He doubted that Roman held the same...er, admiration for him as he did for Roman. It was quite frustrating at times, both having said admiration and dealing with the reality that it is more than likely not reciprocated. Sometimes, however, it was difficult to hold himself back.

When he saw Roman running at him through the rain, full speed, still in his fuzzy sleep pants, mismatched socks, and sandals, waving a heavy coat and scarf at him, he was having a particularly hard time holding himself back. Roman’s smile widened as he saw Logan’s bewildered expression.

“What on earth—Did you run here?!” Logan asked.

“Yep! Like I said, my roommate borrowed the car, so I couldn’t exactly drive.”

“You could’ve taken a bus, Roman!”

“Ah yes, the bus, the one that drives around at 2am. Busses have schedules, you know! The drivers have to sleep at some point, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but realized that Roman was right. “Well still, I feel bad for making you run through the rain like this, especially at this hour.”

Roman shrugged, handing Logan the heavy coat. “Eh, no big deal. I’m always up for new adventures,” he said. Logan adjusted Roman’s coat, which was a few sizes too big. “And besides,” Roman said, wrapping the scarf around the shorter man’s neck, “I couldn’t let you freeze your cute little nose off out here.” He booped Logan on the nose, earning a tiny surprised noise. Logan’s face burned. He desperately hoped that it was unnoticeable in the rain.

The two started walking through the storm, side by side. Logan was hyperaware of their proximity to each other. Every so often, their hands would brush or their shoulders would bump, and every time it happened, Logan would feel a shock of tingles go up his arm, warming his core. However, the warmth in his chest did little to combat the bitter cold of the rain. He shivered and pulled Roman’s coat tighter around him. The temperature continued to drop. Roman took notice of his shivering and wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulder. Logan’s cheeks flushed again, and he huddled in closer to the taller man.

Logan’s mind raced. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to say fuck it and tell Roman everything. It would be relatively easy to do, he has played it out in his head enough times to know what he would say. All he would need to do is say it. He mentally prepared himself to say the words he’s kept to himself for so long—

“There it is! There you go, Lo,” Roman said cheerfully, lifting his arm away.

Logan’s heart dropped. No! Just when he had gotten the confidence to actually say something… He slowed his pace gradually until he stopped. Roman turned back to look at him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. In that moment, Logan decided to risk it all, because he knew he wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this.

“Logan? Are you alright?” Roman began, but he never got to finish. Logan grabbed his face and stood on his toes, pressing their lips together.

Roman’s eyes widened in shock, stumbling backwards and arms flying up from his sides. Then he realized what was happening. He immediately kissed back. He snaked his arms down around Logan’s waist and pulled him closer to his chest. One of Logan’s arms wrapped around Roman’s neck, and his other hand buried itself in his hair.

Around them, the rain crystallized, and snow began falling in its place. The two men stood there in the middle of it all, lips moving as one. They parted all too soon, gasping for air. Logan found himself breathlessly cursing the low air capacity of human lungs. Roman smiled like Logan had never seen, and if he wasn’t already struggling to catch his breath, it would’ve taken his breath away. Roman grabbed Logan by the waist and lifted him in the air, spinning him around effortlessly. Logan squeaked at the unexpected movement. Roman pulled Logan back to his chest for a moment, kissing him again. He sprinkled kisses all over Logan’s face until he too was smiling like an idiot. Roman let him down, but grabbed hold of one of his hands.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been holding that back,” Roman whispered. Logan chuckled a little.

“I...think I can imagine,” Logan responded giddily.

Then Roman did something that really surprised him. He pulled Logan back into a tight hug. “I love you,” he whispered. Logan’s heart skipped a beat or eight. “More than anything. I’ve been waiting to tell you for so long. I love you, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes filled with tears as he buried his face in Roman’s chest. He smiled as he sobbed, whispering tiny “I love you too”s back at him. Roman melted and held him close. At the end of the night, they shared one last tender kiss before Roman headed home, but neither of them slept. The only thing they could think about was each other.

#wow that beginning part before the actual writing really said “unprofessional check”#i have no idea how to set this up #logince #logince fic #tssides #ts sides #sanderssides #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #writing #i don’t know how to tag anything but especially not writing

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“It's just like déjà vu, me standin' here with you, So I'll be holdin' my own breath -- Could this be the end? Is it that moment when I find the one that I'll spend forever with?”

~“Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback

x~x~x~x

In 1941, the vampire called Bat Varney was murdered by the dark wizard Grindelwald for aiding the resistance movement organized by Ministries across Europe. Bat left behind many friends, including Danny Gibson @catohphm and the Selwyn-Ellison family @that-ravenpuff-witch -- but the person most devastated by Bat’s death was his most constant companion, Atticus “Grim” Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier. Never in his life had the retired professor considered that he’d be the last one standing, out of the two of them -- and in his last days on earth, just before he died peacefully in his sleep at a ripe old age, all that he wished was that he might see his first true friend again. Little did Atticus know that -- in his last moments alive -- Bat had made a similar wish...praying that maybe he and his mate Grim could meet again someday, somewhere where Bat didn’t have to regulate how much or how long they touched...maybe even with his real face...as Robert.

About a decade after Professor Grimsley’s death, the only son of a well-respected Pureblood family started his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was Sorted into Ravenclaw house. The boy -- appropriately enough also named Atticus -- wasn’t particularly popular at school, given his hyper-focus on his academics and on satisfying the high standards of his father. Not only was Atticus expected to bring his family honor and esteem, but he also had a rival at Hogwarts who he was expected to “outdo.”

Bartholomew “Barty” Gilbert (pronounced “JO-behr”) was the only son of an up-and-coming Pureblood family who’d just emigrated from France and made a lot of money investing in robe shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade alike. He was also now a Gryffindor in Atticus’s year, and Atticus’s father was very firm that Atticus not let the boy surpass him in anything. Although Atticus normally obeyed his father with a certain degree of reluctance, in this case, he didn’t like the thought of losing to Barty Gilbert either. Not because the Gryffindor wasn’t pleasant -- no, in fact, he was almost too pleasant...too amiable, too inoffensive. And that made it so that even though Barty got away with doing whatever he wanted without worrying about his family’s expectations, it only served to earn him more friends and admirers. Even before that, though, when Atticus had met Barty in passing before school, he still couldn’t help but dislike the other boy. There was just something off about him -- something Atticus could hardly put into words. It was like whenever Barty opened his mouth, he sounded wrong -- whenever he smiled, it looked wrong...even his eyes weren’t as they should be. There was something almost familiar about Barty’s auburn hair, face, and height -- and yet something was wrong. And it just made Atticus upset for a reason he couldn’t really explain. It reminded him of those times, when he was a very small child, when his mother would try to comfort him after he woke up sobbing and could hardly explain why. Something about someone with red eyes squeezing his shoulders, tears streaming down his face and laughing like his heart was breaking...

So Atticus was determined to throw himself into his studies and do everything expected of him. Just because Gryffindor Golden Boy Barty Gilbert refused to do things the right way didn’t mean he shouldn’t -- and Atticus knew karma would eventually go his way in the end, if he put in the proper work. It didn’t mean that he didn’t still sometimes feel somewhat resentful every time Barty Gilbert waved to him in the hall, his two best friends at his side. One of them was the most popular girl in their year (of course), another Pureblood witch named Cecelia “Ceci” Crouch -- the other was one of Atticus’s own dormmates, a poor Muggle-born boy who in third year had become Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser named Robert Bellamy. Despite sleeping in the same dorm for five years, Atticus and Robert had really never talked -- Atticus was focused almost exclusively on his studies, of course, but even Robert seemed actively disinterested in talking to Atticus. Perhaps it was because of how much Atticus kept sticking his nose up at his best friend Barty -- perhaps it was because of how much of a stick-in-the-mud Atticus was -- or perhaps it was for a reason Robert couldn’t quite put into words, the same way Atticus couldn’t completely explain his instant dislike of Barty.

One day at the beginning of fifth year, however, Atticus and Robert were forced to engage with each other when Professor Binns inexplicably decided to actually assign a paired homework assignment. (A possible result of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore casually reminding the History of Magic professor of a similar assignment he’d assigned his OWL class back in the days when he was still alive.) Although Binns of course didn’t remember any of his students’ names, he nonetheless paired Robert with Atticus. Neither of the Ravenclaws was particularly pleased, but none of them was the type to actively argue or complain.

After class, Atticus approached Robert outside the History of Magic classroom. Robert told Barty to go on ahead to the Great Hall and that he’d catch up. Once Barty was gone, Atticus uncomfortably questioned Robert about when they could meet to work on their oral report on the Witch Hunts of the 14th century.

Robert frowned slightly, his well-toned arms crossing casually over his chest.

“Hogsmeade weekend starts tomorrow,” he said placidly. “You occupied then?”

Unlike the rest of his classmates, Robert wore his bronze-trimmed blue Quidditch robes over his disheveled uniform, instead of his usual black school robes. Atticus couldn’t help but wonder if Barty Gilbert’s buddy just liked to remind everyone that he was one of Ravenclaw’s Chasers.

Pushing this faintly condescending thought aside, Atticus shook his head. “No -- I’m available.”

“Good. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks and we can talk there.”

He turned on his heel as if to go. Atticus couldn’t help but sputter and he quickly rushed in front of the other Ravenclaw to stop him from walking away.

“What is there to talk about? We need to get started right away!”

Robert raised his eyebrows. “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough for you?”

“The project’s due on Monday,” said Atticus seriously. “We’ll need to spend a good deal of time at the library, if we want to be prepared -- ”

“No need,” said Robert with a shrug. “I already know everything we need to know.”

Atticus couldn’t keep himself from quirking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh really? Robert Bellamy, slacker jock who always dozes off in History of Magic, knows enough about the Witch Hunts of the 14th century to get us an O on our oral report? Somehow I doubt that.”

Amazingly Robert didn’t react with anger -- instead his black eyes turned very cool.

“The Witch Hunts really can’t be narrowed down to just the 14th century,” he said in a very level, matter-of-fact voice appropriate to a professor. “Not only did the ‘witch hysteria’ phenomenon last well into the 18th century, until the Age of Enlightenment, but there was a lot of set-up beforehand that laid the groundwork for it. Witchcraft, specifically black magic, was considered illegal even in ancient times -- the Romans considered it a capital offense. And of course one can’t ignore how early Christians demonized pagan beliefs by associating them with witchcraft, hence why images of the Devil came to embody traits associated with the nature god Pan. The Witch Hunts of the 14th century largely came about because a bunch of Muggles got their knickers in a twist about an increased interest in necromancy and herbal remedies among the poor, spurred on by the printing and circulation of older Islamic texts. The fact that many of those people who had the most use for those herbal remedies were women -- frequently mid-wives -- scared the church as well, of course, given the sexism of the time. And of course when bad things happen and there’s no explanation for it, people love to find a scapegoat. Add a text like the Malleus Malificarum that tells the terrified masses all of their problems are the fault of evil witches to the mix, and Incendio -- you’ve got yourself a bonfire.”

Atticus was completely sideswiped. He caught himself staring with his mouth open, and quickly closed it.

“That...well...”

He felt very sheepish. His ears burned -- his mother would’ve been scolding him if she were there, for jumping to conclusions like that.

“...That’s really impressive,” Atticus said self-consciously. “Forgive me, I...I was very rude, just then.”

He brushed a loose piece of his dark brown bangs out of his eyes.

“...How did you even know all that? I don’t recall Professor Binns ever saying -- ”

“I doubt he did,” said Robert. Once again he didn’t seem the least bit offended by what Atticus had said and was currently grinning cheekily. “I got my hands on the fifth year History of Magic syllabus from an older student before term started. I went to the Muggle library and borrowed a whole stack of books about the Witch Hunts so I could read them over the summer.”

Atticus blinked. “Muggle books? But -- but wouldn’t that information be incomplete?”

“In some ways, yes. But honestly, magical history isn’t much better that way -- it leaves plenty of stuff out.”

“I suppose it does -- but Professor Binns expects you to know what he teaches too. That’s why he does those lectures.”

“And puts the whole class to sleep,” said Robert with a snort of laughter.

“That’s beside the point,” said Atticus firmly. “It’s good that you studied the material so thoroughly -- very admirable, in fact -- but there is a right way to do things, and falling asleep in class when your professor’s trying to teach you will only make it harder for you to get top marks.”

Robert shrugged. “Guess I don’t see the need to regurgitate my professor’s lessons like a parrot. And how do you know I don’t already get top marks? I don’t remember you ever asking to see my grades.”

Atticus faltered. “Well -- it’s just -- I never see you study.”

“Probably because you never leave the library,” said Robert with a rather mischievous smile.

The words were an unpleasant barb in the corner of Atticus’s chest, and his eyes narrowed to hide the slight hurt he felt. Noticing the shift in the other boy’s expression, Robert immediately put down all trace of humor.

“Only joking,” he said defensively. “Crimey...you really are too grim for your own good...”

As soon as the sentence had left Robert’s mouth, there was a strange, silent ping that seemed to ripple through both young men’s ears. The word “grim” had hit Atticus in the heart stronger than anything else Robert had said. The young Pureblood had stiffened sharply, and his expression tensed further when he realized that Robert too seemed to have suddenly gone oddly pale.

Did...did the word affect him too? Did he also find it so strangely, frustratingly, achingly familiar? Why?

The two stared at each other, both looking incredibly disconcerted. Then Robert, stuffing a hand into his pocket, quickly strolled past Atticus.

“...I’d better go catch up with Barty,” he muttered. His voice sounded oddly calm to Atticus’s ears -- almost evasively so. “Is tomorrow at noon okay?”

Atticus glanced over his shoulder to look at Robert’s retreating back.

“...Yes,” he said quietly.

Robert didn’t turn back around.

“Three Broomsticks?”

“All right.”

“Good. ...Bring some books from the library, if you want. I’m sure Madame Pince will have some suggestions I haven’t read yet. Just don’t tell her we’ll be at the Three Broomsticks -- poor thing would probably throw a fit if we spilled butterbeer on her books...”

With that, the Ravenclaw Chaser departed down the hall without looking at Atticus again.

Atticus didn’t move from his spot in the hall for a while afterward, unable to completely shake the heavy, invisible weight that had settled down on top of his heart.

He’dd only ever felt such a strange, irrational kind of déjà vu around Barty Gilbert before, but this kind...this kind was different, somehow. The feeling that accompanied Barty Gilbert made Atticus feel irritated for no reason at all. This one accompanying Robert Bellamy...it was cold, and yet also so soft at the same time -- like the feeling one has when they hear a beautiful, sad song...or when they wake up sobbing from a dream where someone is squeezing their shoulders, while tears stream down their brokenly laughing face...

#golden era #hphl #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #my art #my writing #au #reincarnation!au #OH MY GOD #REINCARNATION TIME BABY #let's give grim and bat a real happy ending shall we?!#I mean sure bat had a lot of happiness in his life before he finally died but he only lived a half-life as a vampire #and this way bat can be there for grim when he's younger so grim can live the life at hogwarts he deserved #without his father's influence looming like a shadow over him the entire time #also yay bat can touch! and actually grow up! and actually be a professor!#I see bat and crew being in cedric's year #so they'll be seventh years when cedric dies and just be starting careers when the wizarding war starts #of course we all know bat would join the order of the phoenix because...duh #but yeah so this means bat flies alongside cho chang!! :D #robert hasn't gotten the nickname 'bat' yet but he will #and of course atticus isn't 'grim' yet -- even in his original canon he only ever was okay with bat calling him that </3 #robert's discomfort around atticus really comes back to him seeming famiilar and yet 'off' too #in this case because grim is supposed to be happy!! he's supposed to smile!! he's supposed to dance and have fun!!#and yet he's this huge stick in the mud that has a beef with robert's BFF -- what's up with that?!#he really doesn't *dislike* atticus at this point but he is uncomfortable and unsure and when bat is uncomfortable he tends to disappear #in all universes bat does not like being uncomfortable or talking about things he doesn't want to talk about XD;;#also yeah bat is smart AF but is the type to only express it when his intellect is useful #he doesn't show off his intelligence by answering every question in class or sharing his grades or going to the library constantly #instead he most often expresses it whenever he's tutoring someone in something or when the knowledge solves a problem #so it's no wonder atticus had no clue that robert's not just a dumb jock XDDD

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raindropsduringthesunset · 3 years

Text

Painting a Beauty (TSS Fateful Fae AU)

Ao3 ~~~ Wattpad

First Part, Last Part, Next Part

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Janus, Patton, Logan, Remus (Mentioned)

Relationships: Prinxiety (Platonic), Prinxiety (Romantic?), Anxceit (Platonic), Anxceit (Romantic?), Virgil&Roman&Janus (Platonic), Virgil/Roman/Janus (Romantic?)

TW: panic/fear, arguing/bickering (playful context)

cw: food, Janus (sympathetic), Patton (sympathetic), in for a moment), Remus (mentioned) cursing, teasing, possessiveness

Request: "As for requests, may I see some Anaroceit(Virgil/Roman/Janus) content with Janus and Roman just obliterating Virgil with compliments?" ~ KorruptBrekker on ao3!

Summary: Roman wants to paint V. Luckily for him, so does Janus.

~~~

Roman had to be honest, he didn’t know what he was getting into when he agreed to keep V. Don’t get him wrong, he was very happy that he was around- but it was just so… different with him there.

Roman and the Duke couldn’t just mess around and spar all day without planning in advance, he couldn’t construct and deconstruct anything without warning V first, he couldn’t even create the fields anymore without talking to J. While he wished he could do all the things he used to, waking up every morning and wandering into the kitchen to see V sitting on the counter eating a piece of toast with Pat nearby was all worth it. Anything was worth it with V.

Every day Roman would walk to the lake for maintenance and foraging and see V sitting by the shoreline. Roman would smile when he would carefully dip his fingertips into the water or pick up a rock and fiddle with it. More than once has Roman considered painting the scene. He knows J would most likely poke fun at him for it- but he couldn’t be bothered to care. It wasn’t like J didn’t want a painting of V just as much as he did.

Okay yeah, it was a bit creepy but come on. V was the most adorable thing he’d seen in ages. He deserved to be immortalized in art to truly capture his beauty. Roman wanted to paint every beautiful imperfection and line every cutting edge that V had. He wanted to paint him in any circumstance; relaxing, cooking, eating, sleeping- he didn’t care. V was just always so endearing.

Roman had fallen fast and hard for V and he was far from ashamed or embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes he wanted to hold V’s face and just tell him everything was okay. Every day he walked by Roman wanted to push a piece of his hair out of his face and see him blush oh so beautifully. Roman swore to himself that one day he’d paint V.

He’d spoken to the Duke about it on one of their adventures only to get passive-aggressively pushed off with a small joke-like mutter of ‘at least he pays attention to you’. He did feel bad for his brother not getting as much attention as everyone else from V, but they both knew exactly why. Roman was the most… put together half of the twins for lack of better phrasing. As much as he loved his brother, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to share V with him. V was his; well, V was technically everyone’s but that was beside the point. His brother tended to break things he would borrow. Roman may have been second to arrive but by the gods, he would not be the first to leave V.

Linebreak

“Good afternoon, beauty,” Roman waved from where he was sat at the lake as V walked to the lake. He raised his eyebrow as V sat down a few feet away from him, putting a basket down next to him.

“Is there anything you are interested in doing today?” V shrugged and kept his face neutral as he reached into the shallow water and pulled out a pebble. Roman strained his ears to hear what V was saying but despite his efforts, couldn’t hear him.

“Could you repeat that, little one?” Roman put a hand in the water and felt around before pulling out a smooth piece of purple sea glass. He looked at it for a moment before extending his hand to V.

“I’m thinking of looking for flowers for Pat to cook with,” V said softly, taking the glass and rotating it against his fingers. Roman nodded and gazed across into the water.

“Ah, do we need more honeysuckle?”

“And lavender,” V said, looking up at Roman with a small smile. And oh, oh dear that just made him melt.

“And until then? Or do you perhaps want to do it now?” Roman asked, reaching into the water again.

“I don’t know, I’m figuring it out,” V mumbled, going back to weighing the glass in his hands. Roman pulled out another piece of sea glass- this one a vibrant red. V glanced over opening and closing his mouth before training his eyes down. Roman's jaw tightened as he attempted to hold his words- ultimately failing his small challenge and giving in.

“You can ask things little one, have we not made that clear?” Roman’s eyebrows knitted together as he put the glass in his pocket.

“Nono you… you have I’m just-” V sighed and rubbed his sleeves against his face, “I was wondering something. It’s fine.”

Roman rolled his eyes gently and reached his hands over and carefully- feather-light so that V could pull away, pulled V’s arms from his face. He frowned for a moment at his reddened face, scratched by the fabric.

“Just ask beauty. I promise I won’t be mad.”

“J told me you painted…” V mumbled, fumbling with his thumbs.

Ohhh. The weight on Roman’s shoulders lightened just a bit,

“Would you like to paint with me today?” Roman proposed, a gentle smile stretching across his face. V nodded, looking away with a small blush.

Roman drifted his hands up and cupped V’s cheeks, almost laughing as he felt his face heat up further beneath his hands. V hesitated before resting his weight into the hands, cautiously closing his eyes. Roman cooed softly and pushed a bit of V’s hair out of his eyes. He’d have to get the Duke to cut the hair for him eventually- but for now Roman gently tugged at the roots of his hair, listening to V borderline purr when he scratched his nails against his scalp.

I wonder…?

Roman reached behind V’s ear and rubbed circles into the hard bone with the pad of his finger. He was delighted when V practically keened and leaned into the touch, gently whining every so often. Roman relished in the small sounds he could draw out of V. He drifted a finger across V’s nose and chuckled as he sighed, his head bobbing slowly.

“Alright, I believe that’s enough.” Roman looked up as Janus walked over to the two of them.

“Oh? Are you growing possessive again?” He teased, continuing to scratch at V’s head. Janus pursed his lips and adjusted his coat.

Got him.

“I’m not possessive, I just do not wish for you to hurt him.” He hissed his half-truth. Roman laughed as Janus swatted his hand away. V whined and chased after the touch, opening his eyes with a small frown before he realized that there was more than one person with him. He glanced to Janus and neutralized his expression, trying to get his blush down.

Janus drifted over to V and gently rested a hand in his hair, looking down at Roman as he slowly began to thread his hand through the strands. Ro rolled his eyes and reached a hand out to hold V’s, swiping his thumb pad softly against his hand.

“To see you committing to your double standards is unremarkably unsurprising.”

“Oh, hush. Now, what were you two discussing before I arrived?”

“Only what we have planned for the day. We’re going painting later this afternoon if you’re interested in relaxing for once.” Janus scoffed and ruffled V’s hair before pulling his hand away and bending down slightly to grab Roman’s chin.

“Sass me as such and I may have to refuse.”

“As if you would refuse an offer to spend time with your favorite little thing.” Roman chimed back, a mischievous smile crossing his lips.

“Hm, I hate to bruise your ego my prince, but you simply are not what I favor,” Janus hummed, relaxing his touch slightly and gliding his hand to Roman’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb across Roman’s cheekbone with a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, I’m afraid I wasn’t referring to myself,” Roman raised a hand to gently pull Janus’ from his face, “Have you already forgotten after only just a moment?”

Janus glanced back to V who was staring at the water like it was the most interesting thing in the realm. The pink blush coated the mortal’s cheeks darkened when he noticed the two fae had finished their conversation in favor of gazing at them. J could hardly resist when he reached forward and gently cupped V’s face in a hand.

“Hello my darling,” Janus cooed. The boy breathed steadily, taking a long blink before the words registered.

“Hello,” He said barely above a whisper. Roman drifted his thumb against V’s hand once more before looking up at Janus.

“So, is that a yes to coming along with us?” He coaxed. Janus smiled down on V and rubbed his thumb against his lip, relishing in how his breath hitched.

“Must you ask?”

Timeskip

Foraging had gone well. V had almost accidentally picked a poisonous flower and panicked for a moment but other than that nothing truly notable had happened.

Janus, busy as always, was tending to the realm and mending any tears in gateways. Roman would never admit, but he truly admired how effortlessly J could weave the thin strands of reality and warp them so perfectly to create such flawless gateways. Most fae would simply construct a thin gateway in moments and allow it to fall apart whenever they got bored. But Janus seemed to take pride in his creations. He spent hours every day wandering around the realm, searching for loose strands and the occasional broken bond in the fabric of time.

It was all too existential for Roman. He had never bothered to spend time to ponder just how their realms were made. That wasn’t his job anyway. All he had to worry about was presentation and average upkeep.

“Prince?” V asked, snapping Roman out of his daze and making him look over to where V was sitting beside him.

“Yes, beauty?”

“May I… Can we paint soon?” He mumbled, shuffling with the edges of his sleeves. Roman smiled at him and stood up, brushing off dirt from his slacks.

“Of course. Bring your basket, we’ll stop by the kitchens on our way to the grove.” Roman outstretched a hand to V, helping him stand up. V adjusted his shirt and kicked his feet into the dirt before moving to pick up the now full basket.

Some time between moving from the hearth of the realm to the clearing Roman had reached over and gently took V’s hand in his. V’s hands were slightly clammy in his, squirming every so often, but Roman would simply squeeze his hand every so often to ground him. It’s okay, don’t let go little one, I have you, you’re mine, you’re ours.

“Alright, shall we go get J?”

“Couldn’t I just… call for him?” V asked, setting down his basket on the counter. Roman raised his eyebrows.

“If he actually came, I’d be pleasantly surprised.” Roman paused and looked V up and down before sighing, “Actually, considering earlier, I wouldn’t be… that shocked.” V looked back at him and frowned.

“Why wouldn’t he come? Why- why wouldn’t you be surprised?” Roman sighed and leaned against the wall.

“J… He’s never been the most sentimental. He’s all too walled-off with us. He encloses himself so tightly in a shroud of fake indifference. It was admirable for a fair amount of time, then the act just got old. But you, my beauty,” Roman laughed to himself, “You’ve broken him in.

“He seems much more fulfilled being able to care so deeply for someone. Though, I’m not sure as to why I’m so surprised. You are so precious.” V looked down, a deep blush covering his cheeks as he let out a low groan. Ro chuckled gently and pushed himself off the wall.

“Alright, alright little one. I’ll stop.” V walked toward him and stopped before stepping through the portal.

“I’ll call for him as we leave the clearing. Or if you take too long, I’ll just have him guide me to the grove.” V teased before stepping through. Roman rolled his eyes and rubbed fixed his coat before stepping through himself.

Timeskip

Sure as could be, Janus had arrived when V called. After a small bit of arguing, Roman had convinced Janus to pose for them. He, of course, seized the opportunity to open his shirt a bit and silently flirt with V. He wasn’t afraid to do a more intricate pose, laying on his side and propping his body sideways. He laid his cloak underneath him, letting some of it dangle slightly off of the stone bench.

The three knew this process would take a while, Roman would glance to V every so often to see his progress, taking in the red dusting his cheeks as he looked between his canvas and Janus.

“J, for the gods’ sake, stop looking at V like that. It’s quite distracting.” Roman huffed, flicking paint onto his brush. The bristles scratched against the canvas, barely muffling the dramatized gasp from the posing fae.

“But my dearest V seems to quite enjoy it, don’t you darling?” He hummed, sending a quick wink and flirty smirk. V hunched his shoulders and forced himself to focus more on his canvas. His strokes and breaths got ever so slightly faster. That was enough of a sign for the fae to back off. Janus softened his expression.

“I apologize little one, I shouldn’t have assumed such a thing,” He snapped his eyes to Roman as he opened his mouth, “Don’t you dare.” V chuckled, making the fae smile.

A few hours and breaks for snacks and water later, the three decided to end their session. V’s hands were dotted with different colored paints, along with his clothes as well. Roman, miraculously, had painted without accidentally getting even a drop of the paint on him. Stupid fucking fae and their magic making them all clean and stuff all the time. That’s not even fair.

“Hm, I guess your edition of my figure is… nice, could use a little work around the hair though.” Janus ribbed, laughing as Roman gaped with mock offense.

“How dare you, my art is flawless. Just because you feel you must be correct in every circumstance doesn’t mean you truly are.” Janus rolled his eyes and adjusted his hair out of his eyes.

“V darling, may I see yours?” Janus asked, pushing a side of his hair over his shoulder. V’s eyes widened as he looked back at his canvas, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“It isn’t very good. I haven’t painted in a while and-” V rambled only to get cut off by Roman.

“Dear, I’m sure it isn’t as bad as you say. I know you’re talented, plus,” Roman and Janus looked at each other and smirked before looking back at V, “We can taste your lie.”

“Too bitter a taste for something as sweet as you darling.” J flirted, the fae smiling as V’s blush rose back onto his face. V silently stepped to the side and turned to stand by his painting. The two followed suit and stopped on opposite sides of the mortal.

“Oh little one, this is…” V braced himself, “gorgeous.”

… What?

“I must agree, this absolutely stunning.”

Wait hold on, how? This isn’t how this was supposed to go. V’s thoughts swirled, unsure as to what he truly wanted to happen.

Perhaps he wanted them to tell him how terrible he is at art, throw him away for being useless. V didn’t know what he wanted from them. As much as he seemed to want them to hate it- and in turn hate him- he equally didn’t want them to not like it.

It seemed pathetic to him that he wanted so badly for two things on wildly different spectrums, knowing full well that he couldn’t get both. Gods why was it so hard to figure out what he wanted- what he needed.

“Darling? Are you with us?” When V’s eyes focused back he found himself staring into Janus’. His heart sped up in his chest as he realized how close they were.

“May I touch you, little one?” V’s dazed nod was enough for the two. Janus reached a hand forward and rubbed his cheek, Roman moving behind V to wrap his arms around his waist.

“Beauty, I promise you that we would never and could never lie to you,” Roman said, bending down slightly to rest his head on V’s shoulder.

“I once heard someone say,” Janus and Roman locked eyes for a precious moment, “the art matches the artist, and you, my dear…”

Janus cupped the bottom of V’s chin and leaned in close, ghosting his lips against his cheek for a moment before tilting his head to the side slightly. Roman twisted his head to tuck into the little pocket that Janus had made, his breathing sending a shiver down V’s spine.

“You are as beautiful as any Renaissance painting, gods, far more beautiful than anything I’ve seen. It shows in your art how stunning you are my darling.” Janus whispered in his ear, holding himself back from kissing his cheek. Roman looked up for a moment, smirking slightly but biting his tongue. V’s blush darkened, his cheeks red as he let out a low whine. The two fae chuckled.

“What is it beauty?” Roman asked, tapping his fingers against V’s sides carefully as to not tickle him. V did not whine, he did not lean more into the touch, and he was not flustered.

Roman pulled away slightly, looking at Janus for only a second before turning V around in his arms and bringing his hands up. He propped up V’s head with the heels of his hands, gently tapping the pads of his fingers against V’s cheeks. V let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his face hot. Janus rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and stepped closely behind V, placing his chin on top of his head and bringing a hand through his hair.

V keened, unable to tell who he wanted to lean into. It was all too much but also not enough. There was so much to just feel, and so much that he was feeling. His heart sped up and the two fae slowly moved from action to action. Janus eventually turning him back around and Roman bringing his hands to V’s hips, resting his head on top of V’s and humming quietly.

“Oh little one,” Janus took one of his hands, resting his forehead against V’s, “How you have undone us.” V whined and turned his head to rest his cheek against his.

“As much as I would love to simply stand here forever, we must leave for supper. Pat wouldn’t be happy with us if you were late to eat.” Janus chuckled and rolled his head to reconnect V and his foreheads.

“I’m not sure anyone would be happy with us stealing all of V’s attention. I wish we could just have our beautiful darling to ourselves.” V whined again and pulled his head back, opening his eyes with a small pout that neither fae was sure he was aware of.

“Alright beauty, alright. We’re done for now.”

Linebreak

Roman still hadn’t gotten that painting, not for lack of trying. He’d spent hours planning a time to ask V to model for him, to perhaps just lay down and take a nap by him, come on little one, I promise it’s safe, I’ll protect you.

“Have you tried just asking him to model?” L asked, not bothering to look up from his notebook. Roman stopped his pacing and snapped his head toward L, Of course he… hadn’t… Gods, how did he just forget? It was a painting, not even a nude one, and he was nervous to just ask his subject for a few hours of their time.

“I um… I haven’t really- I didn’t… It didn’t even come to mind.” Roman confessed, running a hand through his hair. L huffed a laugh and sent a glance up.

“Well…? Are you going to just stand around like a confused toddler or go ask him?” He teased, flipping a page. Roman pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. As much as he loved L’s wisdom, his snark was far less enjoyable.

Yes?

Would you like to join me?

With what, Prince?

I’m going to be asking V if I can paint him.

Well, I doubt that he’d say no to the both of us…

Is that a yes or are you speaking in riddles again?

Do you take me for a fool? Of course.

Timeskip

Asking V to let himself be painted wasn’t very hard, actually getting him relaxed enough to be painted was extremely difficult. He was so tense- so scared that he would move and mess up. The two fae fussed about, trying to get him to just take a breath.

“Little one, come here.” Janus beckoned V as Roman fixed the easels, “Breathe with me for a moment dear, just a moment.” Janus extended a hand for V to take, drawing circled in alternating directions on his hands as they took deep breaths.

“Good, good. You’re doing perfectly darling. Look at me please- yes, good.” Janus smiled and slowly reached his hand toward V’s face, pulling back when he flinched, “Alright, I won’t touch, you, that’s alright. Just keep breathing okay little one.” Roman walked over and placed a hand on Janus’s shoulder, using him as support as he crouched down a bit.

“Is there anything we can do to make this easier? Would you perhaps like to back out?” Roman asked, a soft tone seeping into his voice like syrup into warm tea. V shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them drearily. An idea flickered behind Roman’s eyes.

“Would you perhaps like to take a nap? Just lay down and relax for a bit. Would you allow us to paint you while you rested?” Janus raised an eyebrow and nodded, rubbing the bone of his thumb against his wrist. V’s eyes moved, shifting from thing to thing as he thought for a moment. He mumbled quietly under his breath, Roman just out of earshot to hear what made Janus laugh.

“What did he say?” Janus pushed Virgil’s bangs behind his ear.

“He’s worried that he’ll snore,” if Janus would have given anyone else the look he gave V, Roman would have made fun of him for it, “Honestly my darling, you’re too precious.”

“Beauty, we would rather you be relaxed and noisy- adorably noisy at that- than awake and stressed while we paint you. Also, both of us are well aware of how late you’ve been staying awake lately. You must relax, my beauty.” Roman coaxed. V blinked at the two for a moment, his pink undertones lighting up as the words settled in his chest.

“I- Are you sure you wouldn’t get annoyed.”

“Darling, I’m not sure any of us could be annoyed by you.” Janus smiled down at V, bringing their hands up to plant a gentle kiss on the heel of V’s palm. He chuckled when V blushed and attempted to hide his face away.

“Can- can we do the uh… the sleep thing?” V asked, trying to get his brain to think through his body screaming at him to just melt into the affection and attention he was getting. Roman and Janus smiled at him. Roman reached forward and running a hand through his hair, Janus reaching behind him to rub his back.

“Of course little one, just relax.” Janus moved to sit a little away from V, gently pulling him to lay his head in his lap while he carded his hands through his hair. Roman sat down in front of them, holding V’s hand and humming softly.

It was all so… domestic. If V had been anyone else, Janus wouldn’t even have considered doing this. Of course he might make an exception for his clan- emphasis on the might- but something about V triggered every protective instinct he had. He was so small, so hurt, so afraid. Only recently the fae had been able to get him comfortable around them, though V still gravitated towards Janus. Roman looked up at him as V’s breath evened out, coming in soft puffs.

May we stay just a few more moments?

Absolutely.

Roman nodded and leaned toward V’s face, gently pushing his bangs out of his eyes before planting a kiss onto his forehead. Janus smiled and used a spare hand to ruffle Roman’s hair, chuckling when he sent a quick glare in return before looking back down.

He’s beautiful.

I’m fully aware.

I know, but it never hurts to remind.

… We’ve broken in for him, haven’t we?

We aren’t broken J, simply softened. Have you not noticed?

I’m not blind, Prince. It’s just… strange. Do you perhaps think he’s enchanted?

No, we would be able to detect that. I think he’s just… new, simply something we’ve never experienced.

Ah… Strange.

… It’s scary, being devoted to something new- something so breakable, so precious.

I have to agree. It’s also strangely nice- pleasant even.

The fae looked at each other.

May we start?

Of course.

Timeskip

The two were almost finished with the last few layers of paint, occasionally sending a quip to each other while waiting for the paint to dry. Roman had taken off his coat and folded it to be placed beneath V’s head, Janus draping his cloak gently over him. V was right, he did in fact snore. Janus was also correct in the assumption that V was very adorable when sleeping. Every so often V would stir, and cause the fae to pause to watch and hope for him to relax again.

“What are you up to-”

“Shhhh!” Roman hissed, turning his head to send Patton a small glare.

He’s sleeping.

Well, it’s also his supper time, if you could wake him that would be wonderful. We’re having salmon.

Hm, the duke will be pleased.

He’s been upset lately; jealous.

Of course he’s been jealous. His brother has been soaking up all of his new playfriend’s time.

I haven’t been soaking up his time!

Oh hush, you just don’t know how to share. One of you wake him, I’ll go set the table with L.

Pat waved goodbye and walked back out of the grove. Janus rolled his eyes and set down his pallet and brush. He gracefully walked to V while Roman collected their brushes and cleaned up.

“Darling, it’s time to wake up,” Janus placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it gently, smiling gently when his eyes cracked open just a little, “Hello there.”

“Hi,” V blinked slowly, a glossy sheen of sleep coating his eyes. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Janus reached around and rubbed V’s back, chucking when he groaned and leaned into the pressure.

“Up up, it’s time for supper,” Roman said, washing the brushes off in a bucket by his easel. V groaned louder and sent a mock-glare to him, a frown on his face as he tried to stretch while sitting. Ro rolled his eyes and smirked at him.

“Don’t groan at me, you know you have to eat.”

“Yeah, and it’s fuckin’ stupid.” Janus chuckled and patted his back before standing up fully.

“Watch your language little one, Pat wouldn’t be all too happy to hear such language coming from you.” He quipped back, the two falling quickly into a mock-argument. Roman rolled his eyes and flicked the water off of his hands.

“As much as I find your conversation endearing, I don’t feel like getting lectured. Come on, we’re already late.”

“Fine, fine, we’re getting up.”

Linebreak

Roman had finished the painting on his own time. He was almost embarrassed to say that he had memorized the exact image of V. He dragged his brush steadily against the canvas, capturing each hair and blemish. He had to admit that he wasn’t all that thrilled that Janus had put his cloak on V at the time, but it kept him warm. He wasn’t very happy that he wasn’t the only claim visible in the painting.

He knew V was to be shared between them. He knew he was supposed to let V be with whoever whenever. But he was so tired of sharing. Roman just wanted to have him to himself for… a while. He wasn’t selfish- he wasn’t!

As Roman hung the painting up on his wall, he took a deep breath. V still looked so relaxed, so peaceful, so perfect. He may be possessive, he may want to steal V away for himself, but if the others made V happy- which he clearly did-, he’d allow it. V completed them- completed him. Roman wanted V to be his, but he accepted that V needed to be everyone’s.

Even if it was the hardest thing he ever did.

Taglist: @i-read-by-lamp

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trashmancan47 · 4 years

Text

I had inspiration for this because I was thinking, what would make Logan laugh, obviously not cheesy Dad jokes, or silly ones, but ones that are super dumb, not really funny, and sometimes make your brain think! Popsicle jokes, the ones you get off of popsicles. So! Here you go!

Logan would just sit in the living room while the other sides would be in there room, or were sleeping, doing something where Logan was alone. Though he was never alone for long, and yet who showed up never bothered him, he quite enjoyed the company, occasionally cracking a small smile, though that was about it. Remus was that side who showed up, they always normally spent some time together, and no one disturbed them, if they came down to the living room they just passed by, and went back up, at first they all took turns being wonder, considering how no matter what any of them did they could never get Logan to genuinely smile, or even look away from his book when reading in the living room. Though soon they all grew used to it, Virgil not caring, Patton finding it cute, and being happy for him, Roman just wondering why his brother, and Janus just kind of.. Being there. Remus, and Logan have been hanging out for a while, and have grown quite comfortable with each other.

If I may- An example!

Logan sat on the couch sitting straight gay up, and opening his book to the place he had left off, remembering exactly the page that he had stopped on. He looked at the book pushing up his glasses that had only slid down the bridge of his nose maybe a centimeter, yet displaced Logan if left unattended for longer than a second or two. He would hold the book with one hand, the other placed on his left leg, and him sitting still, looking a little bored, though he wasn't, he was completely entranced in his book. Today the book he was finishing his book about different tactics used in the old Roman empires at each stage, and how they changed with each pharaoh, and what not. He got to about the third page from where he started before he felt two a hand on each of his shoulder, and them stay there before they moved down to his chest stopping at the top of his abdomen Logan cracking a small smile already as he crossed his leg over the other, flipping the page. “Hello Remus.” Logan heard a small giggling, and felt a weight on the top of his head, not much though, he looked at the page number on his book, and memorized it before closing it, and setting it down on the couch next to him. “Heyyy Specs” Remus removed himself from Logan, and crawled over the couch to sit next to him, Logan moving the book to his other side, and looking over to Remus, his smile not having disappeared yet. Remus turned himself so he was facing Logan, his arm up on the back of the couch, and grinning as he spoke again. “So question for ya Nerdy Wolverine. When does Friday come before Thursday?”. Logan took a second, and didn’t bother to think of it, knowing this was a joke that Remus must have just heard. “I’m not sure” Logan watched Remus, and kept a small smile, Remus speaking the answer quicker then people could probably hear him. “In the dictionary!” Remus’ eyes lit up as he saw Logan's smile grow a little. Logan fought back a feeling of letting out a small laugh. Remus flopped down on his back, putting his head on Logan's lap, looking up at him. “Wait! I have another one! What type of frog has horns?” Logan raised a brow, and actually tried to think of the answer, but not for too long before he looked down at Remus letting his hand go down to his hair, and play with it a little bit. He hummed in response, still smiling as he took comfort, and calm from being able to have another one of these little meets with Remus. “A Bull Frog!” Logan stopped moving his hand, and weirdly scoffed, not wanting to let his laugh out, but Remus seemed determined. Remus moved into the hand more, and instantly went for another joke, he’d never heard Logan laugh, no one had, and he was determined. Well he heard a small snicker once, and they’ve all heard a dry monotone chuckle, but a genuine laugh, nah, no ones heard it. “What do frogs do with paper?” Remus said with excitement, and a huge smile that Logan admired while responding. “I’m not sure.” Logan replied, still having a smile larger than one he’d ever had in a long while. “Rip it Rip it.” Remus looked up hopeful, his own smile widening. Logan couldn’t stop it at that one, finally laughing quietly, a small giggle like noise escaping him as he moved his other hand covered his mouth, the one in Remus’ hair moving as Remus sat up again, sitting on his knees, his hands on the couch as well as he looked at Logan, a big ass smile on his face saying another one. “Which building has more stories?!” He didn’t give long before answering, and watching Logan intently. “Libraries!” Logan laughed more, it getting louder, and him looking to Remus’ speaking between laughs “S-stop” He still had a smile, and Remus shook his head, continuing as he listened to the laugh, it made him smile. The laugh sounded so sweet to him, it was so nice to hear come from Logan, and the fact that he had made him laugh made him feel better. He chuckled to himself, and spoke another one. “Why did the teacher jump in the pool?” Logan was still laughing a little as he rolled his eyes, and asked back in reply. “Why?” Remus snickered himself “To test the water!!” Logan put a hand on his stomach, he may not have laughed long, but he wasn’t used to laughing. Remus glanced to see Virgil at the top of the steps, looking down, almost in disbelief. Remus spoke, chuckling. “Okay! Okay.. I’m done.” Logan laughed more, and his cheeks slightly hurt from the smile on his face as he looked at Remus, giggling at him still. “Oh my goodness, those are so stupid! I love them.” Logan spoke as Remus watched him with a smile, and laughed with him for a moment, and seemed surprised that these were the jokes that made him laugh like this, or at all. It made him smile, and want to hear that laugh more, as if it were an addiction already. Eventually Patton joined Virgil, and Remus shot them a glare, them instantly leaving, and going back into their room, Remus looked back to Logan, seeing that he had calmed down a little. “I didn’t know you were the one for those types of jokes.” Logan slowed the laughs, and wiped a small tear from his eye, releasing his stomach, and looking at Remus, his laughs broke down into a few small snickers. “Oh I didn’t know either- Though I have to say those are great. I don’t think I have ever laughed like that.” Remus giggled a little, and kept his smile, putting his head on Logan’s shoulder, and glanced at him mostly. “Well your smile is adorable, and your laugh is precious. I’m glad I got to hear it.” Logan kept his smile, and relaxed his head on Remus’ gently. He chuckled a little, but this time had some life to it. “It couldn’t possibly be as precious as you…” Okay so I’m pretty sure most of those turned out to be dad jokes, though I assure you I got them from popsicles. I guess I just loved the idea of Logan laughing at dry really bad jokes. This was short, but I hope you enjoy it!

#logan sanders #Remus sanders #sandersides #Thomas sanders #logan x remus #intrulogical #fluff #love #laugh #sympathetic remus #sympathetic logan #Virgil #Patton

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sunflowerstalks · 3 years

Text

Shining Just for You

Sometimes, after a long day of running Out and About and *literally* saving the world, a moment alone together was what Roman and Virgil really craved.

(title from ‘mirrorball’ by taylor swift)

This is my gift for Patton, @4ngstyc00kie, for @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I hope you enjoy your gift, and I hope your holidays were and continue to go well! :D

(sidenote: the recipe for the pretzels in this fic can actually be found here! i can personally vouch for em they are SO good)

word count: 2199

rating: gen/teen and up (for slight language)

content warnings: none; mentions of food and kissing; slight anxiety attack, but for like two sentences; slight innuendo i guess?; two mentions of cannibalism but in a debate context and not in any detail

relationships: romantic roman/virgil (focus), romantic logan/patton (background), platonic sides (all of em)

characters: roman, virgil, logan, patton, janus, remus

additional tags: superhero au (v subtle, i guess), coffee shop au

The bell above the entrance to Out and About chimed as the door swung inwards, the puff of warm air and smell of pastries loosening the tension in Virgil’s shoulders. The door fell into place behind him as he hung up his snow-dusted coat—he smiled at the jackets already haphazardly strewn across the hooks, familiar leather and denim and down in the shades of his friends signaling his status (yet again) as the last one to arrive. Though, Roman wasn’t even off for another thirty minutes, so Virgil stopped himself before falling down that rabbit hole of self-loathing. He waved to the table where Patton was currently sidled next to Logan in the corner booth, both of them sat across from Remus and Janus—their faces were flushed from the cold and already bright with laughter, but Virgil knew Roman would forget the rest of the world entirely if not reminded of their biweekly after-hours confabulation, so a venture into the kitchens was necessary. The group returned his greeting, before falling back into the passionate conversation that resounded around the shop, twinkling against the glass and settling into the wood. Virgil chuckled as he ducked under the counter, pushing open the heavy doors into the kitchen.

Virgil sucked in a breath, opting to lean on the doorframe for support rather than interrupting… whatever his boyfriend was doing. Roman was a vision, sleeves pushed back, hands dusted with flour, twisting loops of dough over and over before setting them aside—Virgil vaguely identified them as pretzels, but the way that even fluorescent lights struck Roman like a sunset to marble clearly took precedent. Virgil cleared his throat, hating to ruin previously-said perfect moment, but nonetheless aware of the endless teasing the pair would suffer if they spent too long on their own. Bastards, thought Virgil, as Roman looked away from the task at hand, shaking himself out of his reverie. But his smile came back just as fast and twice as brilliant when he recognized Virgil, immediately making grabby-hands at his person. Virgil giggled (which he would never admit to anyone other than the witness, but it was sort of the point that it stayed between the two of them—it was the point of this time alone in the first place), and made his way into Roman’s arms. He was sure his shirt was getting dusted in flour and spices, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when all he could sense was Roman—yeast and oak and love and warmth and home.

“You’ve made me a sap,” Virgil whined—though it came out as more of a mumble, thanks to the position of his face pressed into Roman’s shoulder. A rumble, as Roman laughed, loud and strong, and against his reputation, Virgil smiled like the lovestruck fool he was, and tucked himself further into the crook of Roman’s neck.

“As much as I love surprise hugs from my paramour,” Roman fiddled with the hair at the nape of Virgil’s neck as he spoke, “I do need to get back to baking if we’re ever to join the others.” Virgil huffed, ever the dark cloud Roman adored;

“Do we need to though? I mean,” Virgil unentangled himself slightly, pulling back only enough to grasp the strap of Roman’s apron, “really, I think they’ll be able to handle thirty minutes on their own, don’t you?” He looked up at Roman innocently through his lashes, like he wasn’t absolutely certain that he was what Roman would rather be focusing on—they both loved their friends more than life itself, but sometimes, after a long day of running Out and About and *literally* saving the world, a moment alone together was what they really craved.

“You,” Roman flicked Virgil’s nose, leaving a trail of flour in the process, “can be a terrible influence. Besides, you love helping me bake!”

"No, I love watching you bake—there’s a difference.” Though, in reality, Virgil’s words held little weight, as he had already found another apron and had begun tying the straps around himself. Roman cooed, and Virgil bit back another giggle—as long as he was going to help, he could at least keep himself from giving Roman any more ammo against his reputation. Thus, the pair got to work, kneading and twisting. Pretzels weren’t exactly difficult, but Virgil wasn’t usually a kitchen guy in the first place. The third time his pretzel came out too twisted and small, Virgil stepped back with what could only be described as a growl. He pressed his palms into his eyes, and focused on his breathing.

“Hey, no worries, babe, okay? Trust me. Can you look at me?” Roman circled his own hands loosely around Virgil’s wrists, a presence but not a force. Slowly, Virgil moved his hands from his eyes, smiling sheepishly as his boyfriend gave him a small “yay.” His shoulders slumped a little from the stress, but Virgil had calmed down for the most part.

“Thank you, Ro.”

“No worries, my darling,” Roman squeezed his shoulders, “Do you want to stay with me, or go sit with the rest of the group while I finish up?” Virgil considered his options for a moment, savoring Roman’s touch.

“Can I stay with you? I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be, but I want to be around you. You make me feel safe, but like, you know,” he started backtracking, “not in a gay way or anything.”

“Of course you can. And,” Roman said, kissing Virgil’s nose, “I love you, too.” Virgil blushed scarlet as Roman returned to his task, perfectly aware of the stuttering mess he had just made (even though he’d never admit it). Refusing to give in to the teasing, Virgil pressed his lips into a thin line before settling himself onto the counter, perched to watch Roman. He spent as long as he could watching before getting antsy—and when he got antsy, he got curious.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to use powers to make breads and stuff that takes this much work?”

Roman hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, but I like doing it this way. It’s not the same when it’s done with… whatever powers use. What do they use? Vibes?”

Virgil chuckled, sending a flurry of flour falling down on both of them with a flick of his wrist. Roman looked at the faux snowstorm with glee, and then at his boyfriend with admiration. Virgil didn’t show off often, but, when he did, it was for Roman (he laughed at how that was nearly always the case).

“It’s more of a feeling, I think.”

“So what I’m hearing is that I’m right—vibes,” Roman said wiggling his fingers for emphasis, the pretzels all parboiled and ready for baking. A parting (if it could be called that, as Roman was only walking across the kitchen to the oven and back) kiss was shared as the pretzels began their journey to deliciousness.

“So,” Roman grinned devilishly, clapping his hands together, “The timer is set for twenty minutes. Thoughts on how to fill the time?”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “Without raising suspicion? With our group of friends?”

“Powers, Virgil, show me more magic things! Please?” Roman pleaded with his puppy dog eyes, nudging himself as close as he could get to Virgil. In their current position, Virgil was almost taller—a truly amazing thing to be, if Virgil was being honest—craning his neck to get an awkward view of his boyfriend was not the best of times. But now, he could breathe Roman in like the light and airy pastries he had such a way with, and take him all in at once without having to drag him down to his own level. It was a nice change of pace, and Virgil—Virgil wanted to give Roman everything he wanted. So he concentrated his energy, and…

Roman shrieked.

“What a drama queen,” Virgil sighed, fonder than he’d have liked, looking up at Roman as he hovered maybe a foot above the ground, taller once again. He giggled as he swung his arms, attempting to remain balanced (though, in reality, he really had no impact on it—it was all Virgil, except for the joy). Roman made for Virgil’s hands, an invitation and a request and a declaration of love all in one. Virgil accepted, taking Roman’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers together—somehow, Roman’s smile grew even wider, and he tugged, pulling himself closer to Virgil.

“You,” Roman began, kissing Virgil’s forehead,

“Are,” His cheek,

“Perfect,” His jaw,

“Wonderful,” His nose,

“Amazing,” The corner of his mouth,

“Superb,” Roman breathed, finally kissing Virgil square on the mouth—they bumped flour-covered noses and their teeth clicked at first, but there was so much warmth that neither could bring themselves to care. Virgil smiled into the kiss, pulling Roman ever closer, holding him tight as his concentration turned from keeping him floating to keeping him close. Virgil hummed, pleased, before being rudely interrupted by the tinny ring of the timer. Roman pulled back reluctantly, giving Virgil one last chaste peck before making his way to the oven to remove the pretzels. He began transferring them to the cooling rack on the counter, and, not for the first time that day, all Virgil could do was stare—Roman was glowing, like, literally. It was faint, a remnant, or maybe a reflection of Virgil’s own powers, but it was there nonetheless. It cast Roman in a light similar to that of a sunset, breathtaking and golden and entirely overwhelming. Virgil’s breath hitched when Roman turned to look at him, and suddenly he was feeling much too small, and not at all worth the man in front of him. He decided to start small with confronting his insecurities:

“Hey,” he whispered, reverent and somewhat strangled. Roman laughed, and kissed him, still unaware of his own aura and its effects on his boyfriend. He picked up the plate of pretzels—half salted, half cinnamon-sugar—and offered Virgil his hand. He took it, gently, and stepped off the counter with Roman’s help. Their aprons were hung on the hooks, and they made their way out into the foyer of the cafe.

Patton was behind the counter at the drink machines, while the other three had spread themselves out across two booths, covering the floor and tables with papers and bags and… dice? Something of the sort—moving on. At the sound of the doors opening, Patton turned to greet Roman and Virgil, flicking his wrist to keep the coffees making themselves, but when he saw the two of them, he froze.

Regaining his composure, Patton grinned and waved. “Heya kiddos! How was baking?”

“Wonderful—look, pretzels!” Roman presented the tray with a flourish, earning a small round of applause from Patton—the others were thoroughly enamoured with their conversation, and had yet to notice the addition of the last two members of their group—but all good things must come to an end.

Remus finally looked up at the sound of laughter and clapping, and immediately smiled wolfishly—which was fitting, because he then wolf whistled obnoxiously. The trio behind the counter turned in confusion, as did Logan and Janus, pulled out of their debate about the morality of cannibalism. Logan looked like he was staring at a three headed dragon:

“Virgil, what did you do?”

“Uh,” he said, turning again to look at Roman, who was only glowing brighter, “Made pretzels?”

“Dude, you’re GLOWING!” Remus had jumped over a table and was leaning over the counter to poke and prod at his brother’s face.

“Huh,” Roman remarked, extending his arm and turning it over, “I guess I am.”

“Fascinating…” Logan had Roman’s other arm in his hands, and was closely examining how the light reacted to his touch. Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little excluded—he went from having all of his boyfriend’s attention to none of it, which was fine, and Virgil could live with that, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with being a little jealous from time to time.

“Okay, okay, my boyfriend glows, lets eat,” Virgil huffed, stretching and wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders—as he preened under all the attention, his aura doubled in size, casting the shop in a soft light.

“Gross,” Remus wrinkled his nose, mouth full with half a pretzel, “Get a room.” Roman squawked at his brother’s teasing, and turned to Virgil to defend him (though all he did was shrug, it was enough to appease Roman). Somehow, in all the chaos, Patton, Logan, and Janus were able to carry the assorted baked goods that were left after closing, and the several drinks, to the table without incident. Janus and Logan had resumed their argument, this time interspersed with moral questions and praise from Patton—though, really, he was just paying attention because Logan looked awful cute when he was passionate. Virgil snapped his attention back to the twins, who were still arguing, albeit playfully, but far too long for his taste—he yanked Roman along through the opening in the counter (ignoring the offended noises of both brothers), and over to their friends. The remaining three fell into their places in the booth, as careful as they could, being themselves and all—and with their arrival, the night truly began.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #roman/virgil #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts janus #ts remus

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jasontoddshoe · 4 years

Text

Strictly Business // Jason Todd

Chapter 9 - The Gala

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual themes, Violence, Bloodshed, broken bones, kidnapping, guns, bullet wounds, crying, near death experience,

Your dress took a while to shimmy into a zip up by yourself but you finally managed. It was definitely easier when you had Jason to help you but he was off somewhere else in the house getting himself ready. He was acting like this was prom or something, saying he didn’t want to see you until you were ready. It didn’t really phase you until you started getting dressed, you really wished you’d had some help then.

The gala had technically started already, but you didn’t care enough to make it there on time. The only thing Jason wanted was to just be there in general, so he wasn’t mad about it either. You smiled at the finished product of your makeup, admiring your craftsmanship before cleaning your mess up. You were finished getting ready so you headed down to the living room with your small silver clutch that held your phone.

Jason was sitting on the couch, donning a black suit with a red shirt and black tie. He looked amazing, and you couldn’t deny that. At the sound of your shoes clacking against the marble stairs, he looked up. His eyes met yours, catching you staring at him. He smirked slightly before noticing your figure. His eyes traced your every curve as he took in the lovely sight. He stood up, draping his suit coat over his arm as he walked to meet you at the bottom of the staircase.

“You look amazing (Y/n)” he commented, offering you his hand to help you down the last step. You gave him a small smile, feeling much more shy now that he was there. His eyes never left you, but you couldn’t force yours to leave him either.

“Thanks Jaybird, so do you” you replied quietly. “So, should we make our grand entrance at this shitty thing?” You asked, grabbing his bicep while staring up at his eyes. He nodded, his shaggy hair that he hadn’t styled bouncing slightly as he did so.

“Let’s go fuck some shit up” he answered, a devious smile making its way into his face as you laughed.

***********

You held Jason’s arm tightly as you entered the grand venue the gala was taking place at. You never realized how much influence Roman Sionis had in Gotham until you saw some of the very powerful people indulging in the complimentary champagne. You were no exception to that, holding a glass of your own in the hand that wasn’t lopped through Jason’s arm. Jason wasn’t drinking, he wanted to be able to stay on alert. You however, were just along for the ride.

Jason turned to you at one point with a smirk on his face. He delicately slid your champagne glass out of your hand and placed it on a random table behind him.

“Come on doll, we didn’t practice dancing for nothing” he commented before leading you to the dance floor. You laughed lightly, following him willingly. As soon as he stopped you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“Sionis is death glaring you right now” you whispered in his ear, glancing at the man behind Jason’s shoulder who looked furious. Jason wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to place his lips by your ear.

“Good, I wanted his attention” he responded. “He was looking at you like a piece of meat, I ant him to know you didn’t come alone” he added quietly, spinning the two around around while making it look like he was dancing casually.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself Jay, you don’t want him connecting the dots when Red Hood comes after him later” you reminded, making him nod and shift his gaze to your face. “What’s so important about this specific event?”

“He’s got a deal going down tonight, big one, and I’m not gonna let that happen” he explained shortly, emitting a sigh from your lips.

“What kind of deal? Drugs? Guns?” You followed up, feeling slightly annoyed at his lack of information. He gave you a pointed glance, as if he didn’t want to say. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I know when I tell you it’s gonna piss you off” he muttered, letting go of you and giving you a twirl.

“I’m a big girl Jason, I think I can handle it” you raised both eyebrows at him.

“Drugs, lots of them, they’re going straight to the srteets and he’s aiming for the teenage market” he answered, making you grit your teeth slightly. “I knew it’s piss you off” he commented, eyeing your clenched jaw. “Relax, you have an audience, remember?” He whispered.

“So what’re you gonna do to stop him?” You questioned. He was about answer you, when the song ended and Sionis decided to address his guests.

You grabbed Jason’s wrist and pulled him along with you as you went to get some hors d’oeuvres. One good thing you could say about Roman Sionis was he knew how to feed a crowd, but that was it. While you and Jason were getting yourselves something to eat, you heard that dreadful sound.

“Ah, there she is. Just the girl I was looking for” you let out a breath and spin around to see Roman smiling widely at you. “Who’s your friend?” He asked, looking Jason up and down.

“Derek” you stated, not wanting him to know who Jason was. “I met him here actually” you added.

“Of course, you wouldn’t come with a date” he stated, it sounding more like a command than anything. Jason really had to fight the urge to pop him in the jaw at the sound of that. “Walk with me, we need to have a chat” you gave Jason a look before slowly walking toward Roman. He placed his hand on the small of your back and started leading you away from the crowd. You smacked his wrist so he moved his hand off of you, but kept walking.

He led you into en elevator that took you up to his disgustingly familiar office, and you felt a pit forming in your stomach. The slight heels on your shoes clacked against the marble floors, echoing in the empty room.

“How’d you pay off the debt?” He asked roughly as soon as the door clicked shut and he knew you were alone.

“What?” You asked confusedly.

“A week ago money got wired into my account under your name in the amount you were in debt to me for” he stated. “I’m only asking one more time, where’d you get the money bitch?” He asked, grabbing a handful of hair from the back of your head and harshly pulling it toward him.

“Ow fuck” you grunted. This must’ve been the ‘business’ Jason has to do and redused to tell you about. “I stole it, how else do you think?” You lied, wincing as his grip tightened.

“Bullshit, it would’ve gone public if you stole that fucking much” he growled, pulling your head back so it rested on his shoulder as he stood behind you.

“Well contrary to your belief, sometimes I’m good at my fucking job” you retorted. He shoved you forward, letting his fingers slip from your hair and making you stumble foward toward his desk. “I don’t understand what your problem is, you got your fucking money, now leave me be” you turned around to face him. He grabbed your hair in the same spot again, pulling your head back so you were looking up. “Jesus, what is it with you and the fucking hair?” You growled, taking your heel and stomping it into his foot. He let go with a yelp.

“Fuck” he exclaimed. “Look princess, we’re far from being done” he stated. “Boys!” He yelled. Suddenly a couple men stormed the room, immediately going for you.

“What the fuck” you mumbled to yourself. You slid out of you heels and took a slight deep breath in. “Never done this in a dress before, let’s see how this goes” you muttered, using your shoe to smash some glass figurine on his desk.

You grabbed a large shard and shoved it into one man’s leg. He cried out in pain before falling to the ground. You felt a warm liquid run over your hand but that wasn’t your concern at the moment. Another man grabbed your shoulder. You placed a hand on top of his and whipped around, quickly mustering up most of your strength to flip him into his back, stomping onto his arm. A sickening crack sounded through the room, followed by him yelling in agony.

You fought a few more of them off before you simply became out numbered. Two men carried you out by your arms, and another one held your legs, leaving you powerless at that moment. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Roman slipping on his black mask, and the next thing you saw, was darkness.

*************

You were woken up to a harsh light being shined into you eyes. You scrunched you’re face, trying to pull your head away from the light through your grogginess, you started to realize what was happening. The chains around your wrists and ankles weren’t exactly forgiving as you tied to pull against them.

“What the-“ you muttered quietly, opening your eyes fully as the light went away. You recognized the city line and assumed you were on the roof on his building. “Why the fuck are we on the roof?” You asked, trying once again to pull your feet away from the chair they were chained to.

“You might want to take a look down sweetie” Roman replied. You looked down to see you sitting right on the edge of his near sky scraper height building. “Now, I know that you know I don’t take lying to me very lightly” he started, walking slowly around your chair in a circle. “You didn’t steal that money, and you didn’t use your other option to buy your way out” you crinkled your nose at the mention of that day. He stood behind you, placing his hands on your bare shoulders and giving them a small squeeze. You tried to wiggle around to get him to let go, but he wouldn’t budge. “So now, you’ve got three options. One, tell me where you got the money; Two, my old offer still stands. Sleep with me, and I’ll forget this all happened. Or three, this chair you’re chained to, goes falling down the side of this building” he listed.

“You’re literally old enough to be my dad and the fact that you want to have sex with me so bad is just really fucking creepy” you commented. He growled and grabbed the back of your chair, tilting it forward so you were hanging even more over the edge. “Ok! Ok! I’ll tell you” you stated, leaning all the way back in your chair. He smirked to himself, bringing your chair back down into all four legs. You quietly tried to pull your wrists and ankles from their confines, but the chains were on too tightly.

The only ways out of this were as Sionis listed. You didn’t want to tell him that Jason had wired the money to him, you definitely didn’t want to have sex with him, but you didn’t want to die. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a flash of red. You sucked in a deep breath and shut your eyes tightly.

“Option three” you said quietly, tucking your face into your shoulder.

“What was that?” He asked, roughly grabbing the chair.

“I pick option three” you spoke up just a little. He sighed, gripping the back of your chair tightly.

“I’ll see you in hell” he growled before roughly shoving you over the edge.

You screamed loudly, hoping to god that Jason was coming to grab you. The chair hit the side of the building and shattered, leaving you without it but still chained up. Tears streamed down your face quickly, the feeling that you were still falling getting to you.

Finally, you felt someone grab your waist tightly. You let out a relieved breath at the familiar feeling of swinging on a grappling hook. You opened your eyes and looked up slightly to see Red Robin was your savior.

“Tim” you breathed happily. He gave you a small smile while safely landing the two of you on a nearby rooftop. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you” you mumbled, enjoying being on solid ground again. “Speaking of which though, I wasn’t exactly expecting you”

“Yeah, Red Hood called me and Robin for back up as soon as Black Mask walked off alone with you” he explained. “I can get these chains off, but it’s gonna hurt a little. Is that ok?” He asked. You nodded shutting your eyes again as you let Tim free you. “I’ve got your suit too, figured I’d grab it on the way out”

“Thanks, where’s Red Hood and Robin?” You asked, taking the small bag with your things from him. You stepped behind the stairwell entrance and quickly changed.

“Both on the roof where you just were. Hood’s going after Black Mask, and I think Robin’s with his goons” he answered, tucking the gadget he’d used to free you back into his belt securely.

“So I’m a little confused, what exactly is the goal here?” You asked, adjusting you’d hair so it was out of the way while walking back toward Tim.

“I think Hood’s just trying to get Black Mask into custody, but he seemed beyond pissed when he went after him” he replied. A sigh left your lips as you shook your head.

“Ok, you wanna go with Robin and I’ll see if I can catch up with Hood?” You asked, taking an earpiece that Tim held out to you. It was pretty easy to put on, but Tim had to help you turn it on.

“I figured that’s how it was gonna go. Me and Robin will finish up with the muscle and meet up with you and Hood when we’re done” he commented. You nodded slightly, letting Tim grapple the both of you back up onto the roof top you’d just gotten pushed off of.

It was pretty easy to weave through the fighting and slip back down stairs into the building. As soon as you made it back into that horrid office you saw Jason and Sionis in a heated fight. Neither one of them seemed to be letting up on any attacks.

Both men were bleeding from some place on their body, but it didn’t seem to deter them. Jason spotted you out of the corner of his eye, and you wish you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face. His helmet was in the way from telling, so you just decided to help him out. As good as you and Jason were at fighting with each other, nothing compared to what it was like when you teamed up. Sionis held his own for a minute, but against the both of you there was no way he stood a chance.

Jason ripped Sionis’ mask off of him and tossed it to the side. He got a grip on his hair and lifted him off the ground. He tossed his body against the leg of his desk, making the older man groan in pain. He looked up at Jason with a bloodied face and beaten body, breathing labored from taking all of Jason’s blows.

“It’s over Sionis” Jason declared, standing up y’all as he caught his breath. You stood on Jason’s left side, slightly behind him silently looking over his wounds. “You’re gonna rot in a cell, like you deserve”

“Over? If you think this is over, you’re sorely mistaken” Sionis spat shakily. Before either you or Jason could react, you felt a white hot pain sear through your abdomen and the roaring sound of a gunshot. You fell to ground with a gasp, clutching your gut in agony. Your hand immediately was coated in a thick layer of blood, and the last thing you heard was another gunshot and a cry of your name.

Tag list: @mortifiedmoon @myraticm @brainwashedbyhitoshi @avengerdragoness @thefemalethatwrites @boujeegoblin @roseangel013bf @vividhoods @katsukijason @wolfiemichele @grincheveryday @i-love-sleeping-and-dreaming @fuzzycloudsz @polireader @grey-water-colors @ijwtkms @annie-daetris @ppeachygemss @mayahoelland2013 @kaykat2105 @calcatss @distressedearie @read-in-the-night @justifymyfeelings @areabdhar

If your name is slashed through that means it wouldn’t let me tag you!

If you want to be tagged, just comment, send me an ask, or message me and I’ll add you to the list!

#batboys #batfam #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagine #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batboys x reader #batfam x reader #batfamily #dc

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candied-peach · 4 years

Text

ao3: “ugly like me” rating: T warnings: some remus typical stuff, food mention, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, DRLAMP, creativitwins genre: fluffy hurt/comfort description: Remus has a wish. ( @tsshipmonth2020 prompt: DRLAMP)

Remus wants.

He wants, but he knows that he can never have it. The others are, well, themselves, and he's him. He's dirty, he's gross, he's a trash man and he doesn't hate who he is. Not anymore. But if he could have the wish that dies, unbidden, on the tip of his tongue-

He wants to dive into the soothing tranquility of Logan's room and let it wash him away. He longs to brush Logan's hair back from his face as he devours his mouth and finds out if the logical side tastes like Crofters and coffee. He wants to lounge on a bean bag chair in Virgil's room and make fun of the spider curtains. He would soothe Virgil when he has a panic attack and watch shitty conspiracy theories on the TV at three in the morning, when only the two of them are awake. He wants to wallow in nostalgia with Patton, pretending that the gap-toothed kid in a crown in the scrapbooks isn't two parts of a shattered whole. He would (try to) bake cookies with the moral side, dolloping his freckled nose with chocolate chip-studded cookie dough and kissing it off. He wants to pet Deceit's snake (and it's only partially a euphemism). If he could ever be allowed it, he would lift Deceit's hat free from his head and run his fingers through the fluffy, unruly strands, would kiss his way down the scales of Deceit's face, admiring the glitter of the light on them.

If he could have whatever he wanted, his brother wouldn't look at him like he's nothing but the broken half, the things he wishes he could forget he ever possessed.

But he can't. The others are together now, even Deceit, and he doesn't belong there. The others share sweet nothings in the hallways and kisses in the kitchen. They invite him to movie nights and he tries to take them up on them, because he doesn't want them to know. Dee Dee was obvious, but for once, Remus holds a secret close, like something precious and rotting. But it hurts, watching their easy closeness, the little in jokes that he can never be a part of, the affection that will forever be denied to him. Sometimes after movie nights, he goes into his side of the Imagination and destroys things. When rock chips fly from the impact of his morning star to the sound of blood trickling in the distance, Remus can almost pretend that he doesn't care.

It almost works.

Until Moana is playing on the big screen and he's saying something inanely profane about Maui's oar, but the others are huddled so close and he can't help the longing as he glances their way, and catches Virgil's eyes.

His understanding eyes.

Remus doesn't say a word, he just sinks out, landing on his bed with a careless thump. He scrabbles to lock the door, breaking one of his fingernails and wincing at the sizzle of white hot pain that slashes through his finger.

"Remus," Virgil says behind him, and he jumps, his heart feeling like it's about to rattle out of his chest. He turns and Virgil is there, slouched against the wall, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets.

"Virgey!" He exclaims brightly, trying to pretend that his hands aren't trembling and his eyes aren't wet with incipient tears. "What brings you to my shitty domain?"

"You know what," Virgil says. It's quiet, but it hits Remus like a physical blow all the same. He rocks back and forth on his heels, trying to calm himself. It doesn't work.

"Got bored," he tries, offering a dismissive shrug. "Wanna help me dissect something?"

"No," Virgil says, his nose scrunched up. "Remus, I- maybe I got this all wrong, but-"

"Probably!" Remus interrupts, his voice panicky fast.

"Remus, do you like me? Us?" Virgil asks, his face red.

"Of course I like you, Virgey," Remus says, deliberately misunderstanding the question. "Even my needle in the eye brother!"

"That's not how I meant and you know it," Virgil says, giving him a direct stare. Remus flushes bright red, like a lobster in a pot.

"Maybe," he admits, in a dull mumble. "But it's okay, Virgey. I can just stop coming to movies and meals and shit, that's-"

"What?" Virgil asks in disbelief. "Wha- why would I want you to do that?"

"Because I'm me?" Remus says. It's not quite a question. "I'm gross, Virgey Wirgey, I know that, I'm not like you and the others, I-"

"That is bullshit," Virgil interrupts him. "Absolute bullshit. And I'll prove it to you." Before Remus can pull away, Virgil has seized his wrist and they're both rising up, back in the living room he'd so recently sought to escape.

"Remus?" His brother asks, surprised. "Are you crying?"

"No," he denies. He touches his cheek, startled to find wetness there. "Of course not," he doubles down. "Why would you care anyway?"

"Because I care about you," Roman says. Remus stares at him, wide-eyed.

"We all do," Logan adds. "Virgil, have you-"

"He thinks that he's too gross to be loved," Virgil says bluntly. Remus winces. He wouldn't put it quite like that. That makes it sound...bad. Like it's not the truth. But it is, he knows it is, it has to be-

"Remus-" Deceit is suddenly there, one gloved hand cupping his face. "Remus, you are not and never will be 'too gross' to be loved." He makes air quotes with his other hand.

"But-" He weakly protests.

"I love you!" Patton exclaims. Remus's jaw drops. "I have lots of love to give!" Patton says, noticing his shock. "I wanted to ask you a while ago, Remus, but I thought maybe you just didn't feel that way, and I didn't want to pressure you."

"But me and Deceit thought differently," Virgil continues. "We know your tells, dude. Lived with you forever, you know." Remus flushes harder.

"You're my brother," Roman says. "I know that we've had our differences, but I- I want to work on that. With you. If- if that's okay with you." Almost without his input, Remus's head bobbles up and down.

"Do you believe us now, cephy?" Logan asks.

"Cephy?" Remus repeats. Logan's cheeks tint faintly pink.

"You seem fond of cephalopods," Logan explains. "If you would prefer that I didn't call you that, of course I won't-"

"I love it," Remus says immediately. He would do anything to see that delighted glint in Logan's eyes again.

"Would you join us?" Deceit asks, very softly. Remus looks around the living room, eyes hot with unshed tears, and nods.

"Yes, please," he says.

Sometimes you can get what you wish for.

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @ancient-fruity @airiervessel @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @bexxbeauty @yalltookmyurlideas @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @matthindavick @killjoy-3000 @littlestliu @ambersky0319

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veenussposts · 4 years

Text

Mingi as a demigod (and your boyfriend)

Mingi was always a lazy person who found it difficult to be punctual and maintain an orderly lifestyle. However, he always did things well even if he had no idea what he was doing.

And things didn't change when he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, after trying to be killed by a minotaur as he walked back home.

After being claimed by his father, the God of war, Mingi continued with his same attitude as always and, unintentionally, quickly climbed into the hierarchy of his cabin. He was just good at fighting, he was honestly the best, even though he never had any training in the art of war.

He only had fun with Apollo's sons and daughters and yet no one was able to beat him in a battle. The laurel crown was his over a year ago and no one could take it away from him.

But everything changed when you arrived.

"Who is he?" Mingi asked one of his sisters who was observing all the commotion that was forming in the camp due to the arrival of a squad commanded by you.

"He is a roman demigod, one of the leaders of Camp Jupiter, the only child of Bellona the goddess of war, destruction and devastation"

"Uff, it's a very long and intimidating name for a boy. I bet he's not that good"

With determined and somewhat haughty steps, Mingi came towards you with his chin up to ask you to a duel. The warriors under your command looked at each others scared when they heard Mingi challenging you. What did you do? You laughed at him and then completely ignored him.

Or at least that's what Mingi believed because even though it didn't seem like it, you really paid attention to him. At a glance you realized that, after being rejected, that son of Ares made vibrate some swords while walking back to his cabin.

You had a slight suspicion of why that happened but there was only one way to check it.

It was a normal day after a chat with the director of the Greek camp, you were on the banks of the great lake meditating when you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach. Someone was watching you. With a single movement, you unsheathed your sword and threw it towards where your instincts told you.

"If this were a real fight you would already be dead" Your sword was pointed at his forehead as it floated in midair. With a single wave of your hand, your sword turned towards you and came back to its place.

"What... Ho-how did you do that? You... how did you manage to stop it before... and..."

"I didn't stop it, you did" Mingi's eyes widened, looking at you in surprise. "The weapons obey you, they will do whatever you tell them to do. You can even fight with them even if you don't have them in your hands"

"But my brothers cannot do that"

"That is because only a few are blessed with the gifts of their parents. Some children of Apollo can heal, others cannot. They are gifts that have to be used and I am willing to help you, son of Ares, even if it goes against my principles as a descendant of a Roman Goddess "

And that was how Mingi, dumbfounded by the way your tan skin shone in the sun's rays, agreed to train with you.

Things were going well, too well. Mingi was more powerful than you imagined and could follow your strict training without problems.

As the days passed, your stomach felt strange sensations and it wasn't your sixth sense. It was something else.

"Am I in love with a Greek demigod? Oh my Jupiter"

On the other hand, Mingi was totally in love with you. Every cell in his body went into ecstasy every morning when he saw you, he seemed to be flying through the clouds every time he saw you smile and the mere fact of listening to your compliments when he did something right blushed his cheeks.

"He is very cute"

"I think you are the only person in the world who thinks that he is cute. Brother, every time I look at him I feel like a deer being analyzed by its predator. He's scary"

"Yeah, that's one of his many charms. Ahh, he's magnificent"

Your swords collided, they withdrew and returned to find ways to outdo each other and catch up with their opponent. A slight whistle accompanied the movement of both, indicating the speed of your movements and your location.

"I'm sorry to inform you that this fight will be won by me" Mingi said as his eyes closely followed you.

"Don't sing victory yet, redhead"

Your swords collided again and both of you continued to dance across the training ground in a fight that never seemed likely to end because neither was ready to lose.

You, who at the time were leading the initiative, attacked while Mingi defended himself. He leaped back, accurately moved his hand, and one of his two swords, which he had previously lost in a counterattack against you, shot out at top speed. You barely had enough time to turn around and dodge the attack, consequently your opponent's weapon cut a piece of your purple cloak that was part of your armor.

"Well if this was a real fight you would already be dead" The cold metal of his weapon was leaning against your neck while a silly little smile was drawn on his lips as you stood up slowly. "Can I sing victory now?"

"I don't think so" The smile on his face faded when he saw out of the corner of his eye your great sword, pointed at him in midair. "I think you are dead"

"Yeah, but dead of love for you"

Your eyes widened like saucers and Mingi's hand that didn't hold the sword opened, letting it drop to the ground. His cheeks started to turn deep red like his hair as he tried to look anywhere but you.

Hell, he had screwed up. Surely you were going to reject him, surely you would laugh at...

"In that case... I guess I'm dead too" Before Mingi could understand your answer, your strong arms were around his waist, drawing him towards you. You were so close that you could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, your noses were rubbing against each other and your lips were only a few millimeters apart. "I... I also like you, too much for my liking but I couldn't help it"

Mingi leaned his head forward and kissed you, softly at first, and then with immense passion causing you to cling to him as if there was no tomorrow. His lips were caressing your trembling lips, sending shocks of electricity along your back, causing emotions that you had never thought you were capable of feeling.

Mingi almost went crazy when you confessed with a blush on your cheeks that he was your first boyfriend. For that reason, you weren't quite sure how to act in certain situations.

Despite being stoic, strict and not very good with words, Mingi knew that you loved him because your actions showed it. For example: the time you were training and it started to rain, without thinking twice you took off your cape to cover Mingi so he wouldn't catch a cold.

HE LOVES PLAYING WITH YOUR LONG HAIR. He could be brushing, stroking, or just playing with it all day.

"Just relax, I'll wash your hair for you"

He is capable of sending a sword flying to anyone who dares to speak ill of you.

"I'd fight the whole world for you and I don't care how cheesy that sounds"

Mingi says and does things on purpose to embarrass you for his own amusement such as calling you by cute nicknames in front of your legion or dancing while he was wearing your golden armor.

You haven't tell the others about your relationship but all the demigods in both camps know that your are a couple.

Gets giggle because of your existence and blushes when you kiss him.

The biggest cuddle bear ever.

When you had to leave Camp Half-Blood to return to Camp Jupiter Mingi did his best to keep you from leaving but, unfortunately, it was your duty and you had to leave. The first night without you he cried because he missed you.

Now, Mingi is only in Camp Half-Blood the summers, the rest of the days he lives in Camp Jupiter with you.

He sleeps on your chest because he says your skin is very soft and warm, he feels calm and protected in your arms.

"You're ridiculously comfortable"

His cellphone password is the date of your birthday and as a wallpaper he has a photo of you smiling after the daughters of Venus combed your hair in a large braid decorated with flowers.

Every summer at Camp Half-Blood, Mingi tells the new demigods how magnificent his boyfriend is, telling them that he is the most powerful person ever born, that perhaps you were the reincarnation of a hero like Hercules. Sometimes just to bother you, he tells you to go to the camp to sign autographs because everyone admires you but not as much as he does.

Worries about your safety 24/7.

"Zeus, I was very worried"

"It was just a reconnaissance mission, baby. There's nothing to worry about"

You never fight, you have a healthy and prosperous relationship, but sometimes when you have had a stressful day you ignore each other unintentionally.

In conclusion, just being with Mingi makes you happy. That redhead, son of Ares, has completely changed your life in a wonderful, magnificent and extraordinary way.

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x you #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez mingi #ateez x male reader #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x atiny

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blissicle · 4 years

Text

I got chills, they’re multiplying Pt.1

(Plus a little bonus part)

Word count: a little under 1.7k words (bonus: 730 words)

Parings: Prinxiety, background moceit and intrulogical

Warnings: just one I think. Which is mentioned homophobia. But also cursing if you count “what the hell” as one. But let me know if there’s anything else

Note: hey! So this was inspired by @count-woe-laf ‘s idea of roman and Virgil working at a vintage cafe and just being gay with one another. I meant for it to be a quick little story, but I uh may have wrote a bit more than expected... also I wrote a bit of part 2, and figured I might as well include that too as a bonus. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this! It’s my first ever fic I’ve written, so it’s not perfect, but hopefully it will still be good. Enjoy!

——————————————-

“Alright I’m heading out” George declared while fiddling with the last button of his heavy coat, “make sure you close up the shop”

George strode over to the door, hand on the handle but paused looking back at the two, with a sudden looked fury, eyebrows burrow and mouth in a twisted frown with a cold stare that could kill, “and if I return finding a single object broken or a spec of grime on my establishment, I’ll kick ya out the door with no hesitation.” He spat.

And as quickly as it appeared, his frown turned into a sickly smile and George’s face instantly brightened, quite an unnatural and nerving quirk of his that roman has yet to get used to, “have a fantastic evening boys! And don’t take any wooden nickels!” George called back while pushing the door open, the wave of icy air flowing inside then quickly disappearing as the door closed shut from behind him.

Roman looked over to Virgil who shivered violently “Is that from the weather, or George?” roman asked amused as Virgil scrunched up his nose and grimaced “both”

Roman chuckled a bit at the response, as he himself felt the same edging nerves.

“He just gives me the creeps...” Virgil mumbled

“Hey at least he’s letting us host a movie night”

Virgil shrugged “yeah I guess” and stood up from leaning on the counter and walked over to the empty tables “come on help me stack up the chairs”

Roman nodded In response and look around the room with a pleasant smile. He always adored the look of the cafe, since it resembled the charming architecture of New Orleans quite a bit, but it looked even better when closing up for the day. The golden evening sun shone through the glass onto the light spring green of the walls, reflecting off of black and white photos and signed records scattered across the wall. it gave the accents made of dark wood framing the corners and ceilings a warm and tender graze too. He looked outside as the winter wind blew a few left over autum leaves into the streets as the occasional car came rushing by. roman sighed with a smile, feeling content with the calming atmosphere around him.

“Roman?” Virgil called back

Roman snapped back to reality “huh? oh right, sorry” And he promptly set to work, picking up a wooden chair from the near by table and setting it upside down on the table, as Virgil did the same across the room.

———————-

Despite his dislike for their boss, who in which Virgil often speculates to be a murder in hiding, Virgil actually enjoyed working at the vintage cafe. Well, the actual working part where he had to talk to customers wasn’t that particularly fun, but he enjoyed being there with roman. Roman always has infuriated him since day one, with roman singing any and every Disney song just to annoy Virgil (only for him to be humming it the very next day under his breath) ,or his insistence of being extremely extra any chance he got, he still somehow ended up being good friends with the insufferable good hearted idiot that is his coworker, not to mention have the same group of friends as him.

After the last chair was put up, Virgil sighed and walked over to said-idiot who was sitting at the counter. He looked up from his phone when Virgil sat down next to him. “So what movies did you bring to choose from?”

Roman perked up at this, “oh! hold on let me go get them!” He rushed to the back room and came out a moment later with a giant box filled with many many CD’s and set it on the counter, “before I left this morning I made sure to bring my fabulous collection of Disney movies, and a couple of other stuff” roman explained proudly,

Virgil looked at the box on the counter and then looked over to roman with a incredulous look on his face, eyebrows raised.

“What? I couldn’t possibly choose between any of my darling babies!” Virgil just rolled his eyes in response, trying to smother the fond smile peaking at his the corners of his mouth. After a brief moment, he looked back to roman who was smiling... at him for some reason. “...What?” Virgil asked smirking back at roman unable to hide his own smile anymore.

“It’s nothing I just...” roman doesn’t finish and seems to be spacing out again, a habit virgil has learned he does quite often, but he’s staring at virgil with a look of what he can only describe as admiration at the very least.

Roman’s jade green eyes are gleaming softly as he’s looking at him reminding virgil of candle light and the evening sun shines on his face making his small smile even brighter. Roman suddenly shakes his head dragging himself out of his thoughts, “Sorry, I- uh spaced out there for a second,” Roman cleared his throat, and started busying himself with taking the CD’s out of the box.

“It’s ok” Virgil responded and looked down at the floor. Then he glances back up a roman and He notices a single lonely strand of hair falling down on his forehead, out of place from the rest of roman’s bronze curls and waves on his head. Without thinking Virgil leans forward and raises his hand and starts playing with the loose strand, twirling it and wrapping his finger around it

“it’s kinda funny sometimes to see you space out anyways, you always have that stupidly cute smile on your face whenever you do,” Virgil mumbled under his breath still smirking, then glances down to roman’s flushed freckled face and-

OHGODWHATDIDHEJUSTDO

wait- WHAT THE HELL DID HE JUST SAY?

The sudden sound of the door opening followed by the wave of icy air against Virgil’s now heated face caused him to draw his attention away from the moment and instead to the man in the doorway, who worked at the family-owned library across the street. “Oh h-hey specs!” The flustered expression on roman’s face had turned into an awkward smile, face still pink.

Virgil cleared his throat uncomfortably, “...didn’t you have something to do with the debate team today?” He asked

Logan, observing the odd tension between the two but saying nothing of it, took off his heavy coat and hanged it up on the coatrack. “it was cancelled do to Mr. Wells catching the flu, and Janus who was planning to take me to the meeting, apparently has a cold due to the weather”

Virgil snorted and rolled his eyes “yeah like he’s not just faking it”

“Perhaps, remus has mentioned to me accounts of the past where Janus had successfully faked an illness” Logan considered, “but I highly doubt he can convince Patton” Logan strode over to the box eyebrow raised, “Roman, did you bring your entire library of Disney movies?”

Virgil respond before roman opened his mouth “yep.” Behind him, he heard roman’s offended stuttering.

“They’re not all Disney! I have other movies than just that, like-“ roman looked down and searched through the box “see? Like princess bride! Among other things!”

Logan sighed and took the box and carefully dumped it on the counter and began shuffling through them. Once again, came the sound of door opening followed by the wave of icy air that made them all shiver slightly.

“Sorry I’m late you guys!” Patton stood in front of the door taking off his scarf and cap, “Janus seemed to have a cold and I couldn’t have possibly left him there like that until I made him cream of broccoli... though i didn’t have time to make sure he was sick, but he didn’t seem like he was faking it”

Virgil saw roman make a gagging face at the mention of ‘cream of broccoli’ and kicked him playfully under the counter to get him to stop before Patton saw. Roman pouted and mouthed a little ‘HEY’ and kicked Virgil back. Which Virgil ignored him as he said,” it’s fine Patton” then turned to kick roman again, which prompted a kicking war as they both attempted to kick and deflect the other.

Logan rolled his eyes at the nonsense and turned to Patton,” well conveniently, you came in just in time. we were just in the middle of selecting what movie to watch”

“Oh, great!” Patton cheerfully walked over to the movies displayed as Logan explained, “Roman predictably brought an abundance of Disney movies, but of course in case one of us disagrees, I’ve separated the non-Disney produced films into this group here” Patton nodded and looked over all the selections, wall-e... sleeping beauty... Harry Potter...

“Wait roman you have Greece?!” Patton gasped and picked up the CD.

“Huh?” Roman turned from Virgil mid-kick.

“Greece!” Patton held up the cd, “I didn’t know you watched it!”

Roman, with a look of confusion for a moment, suddenly made the connection,” oh! that must’ve gotten mixed up with my collection of movies I took with me when I moved out with my step-dad, I think that may be my mom’s. Sorry padre”

Patton gasped again, “what? You haven’t seen Greece?!”

“What’s ‘greece’?” Logan questioned

“Oh my goodness! Have none of you guys seen it?!”

Logan and Virgil shook their heads, “I mean I think I saw my mom watch it once or twice but I don’t have a good memory of it” Roman shrugged

“Ok, that’s it. We’re watching Greece. You guys have to watch it!” Patton announced, despite the unsure looks of the rest, “Don’t worry! It’s a really fun and cheesy! So we can make fun of it! That’s what me and my aunt used to do all the time when i was younger!”

Logan looked to roman and Virgil,” do we all agree on watching Greece then?”

Roman shrugged, “sure!” followed by Virgil nodding,” yeah I guess”

Patton brightened, “yay! And don’t worry, I’m sure guys will enjoy it!”

Bonus:

“Have a wonderful evening Ms.Garcia!” Roman called to the exiting woman, who said nothing while looking down at her phone, but then waved a few seconds later, eyes still strained to the screen and left.

“Rude.” Roman mumbled, followed by a small snort he heard coming from his stormy knight in black leather beside him.

“yeah at least you didn’t have to deal with her order,” virgil grumbled, “where were you anyways? I thought we’d agreed to handle that homophobic prick together,”

“I was cleaning the sink!” Roman argued

Virgil eyed him, “it doesn’t take that long to clean the sink,”

“Ok fine, so I may have took my time with it..”

“Princey, really?!”

“I’m sorry! Look, I-“ roman wanted to say anything but the stupid truth that what he was actually doing was texting Remus for help on how he could smoothly ask the dreaded emo out.

As suspected, his suggestions were either too difficult to pull off, or inappropriate for freshman in high school like themselves. ‘What did you do to get Logan to go out with you?’ He remembered asking, ‘uhhhh I think I just asked him to do something with me that peeked his interest, like the first time we dissected a bunny-‘ roman refused to read the rest of the message from there on. Something that peaked his interests...

“How about this... if I let you choose a movie for us to watch together like a movie night of sorts, will you forgive me?” Roman suggested.

“Mmm...”

“Please my chemically imbalanced romance???,” roman pleaded, hoping the reference will help win him over.

“Ugh ok fine. Next weekend, Friday night. Ok?”

Roman brightened, “its a date then.” Roman agreed proudly. Virgil raised his eyebrows, oh god-, “like, you know, a friend date... with friends. Well, if you want to invite the others” please say no, please say no-

“Yeah that would be fun, let me text the group chat to see if anyone can make it,”

WAIT NO-

“Ok Logan and Janus apperently have an after school thing... Remus said he was busy.... oh cool Patton said he could make it” GAUH- WHY?!

“Sounds great!” Roman forced a smile. Maybe it wouldnt be that bad.. right?

——————————

It’s bad. It’s so so bad. He’s screwed. After excusing himself from the group to head to the bathroom, roman was finally able to think back and comprehend those few moments previous to Logan’s entry. Roman quickly shut the door behind him and leaned against. He took a deep breath and slid down to the floor, with a dopey grin on his face. It all happened to fast, Roman couldn’t help but notice the small shy smile coming from him, god it was so adorable. Suddenly Virgil looked over and caught the look roman gave him. Usually, roman would have covered it up, made a quick excuse, and he was in the middle of already doing so. But that gosh darn golden evening sun poked out of the clouds at the worse time possible. And roman was unable to think of anymore thoughts other than how incredibly breathtaking Virgil looked. The sunshine on his hair made it look so soft and messy and unkempt, his bangs failing to hide the absolute treasure that is his eyes. His eyes reflected the light, showing the streaks around his iris light up like brash elegant lightning. But even without the dramatic lighting, Roman has to admit his smile was absolutely the cutest thing about him, wide and joyful and just so full of pure happiness, rare enough to where anyone who was able to witness it must’ve considered themselves the luckiest human being on earth. Till he snapped out of it. He apologised, trying to act busy with moving cd cases around, but before he could even began cursing himself, Virgil leaned in closer to roman, which in fact has been the closest he’s ever been to him. Roman turned his head towards him, and the image of Virgil’s stupid gorgeous smirking face inches away from his, dark eyes filled with lightning, looking slightly above roman’s line of sight WHILE TOYING WITH A LOOSE STRAND OF HIS HAIR, is stuck in his mind on loop forever and forever. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory, he was saying something, wasn’t he? What did he say??

#first fic!!!#yay!!#prinxiety #background moceit #background intrulogical #sander sides fic #I got chills they’re multiplying #sorry Pen i didn’t know you liked logicality before I wrote it #I just did my personal favourite parings as background #but I hope you enjoyed it!#love ya friend #roman sanders #Virgil sanders #blissful writing #<— new tag for my writing stuff

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

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Damaged | Dan Torrance x Male!Reader

Whoo, another vent fic! I’ve been writing on it for a couple of days now and decided to quickly finish and upload it before my next zoom meeting, lol. If you should read my ZsaszMask fics on Ao3, you will recognise that the title and subject matter are the same. That’s because I’ve vented by giving Roman my problems before. But the same problem is still plaguing me. By now, I’m legitimately scared of showering each night. So, yeah, vent fic. Which is gonna be rather specific again, ‘cause OCD and neurodermatitis.

summary; Your wounds on hands and wrists are distressing you, new intrusive thoughts appear and make it even worse. Dan is there to reassure you and just be the wonderful boyfriend that he is.

notes; TW // Contamination OCD, Self-Harm (unintentional and implied intentional); Intrusive Thoughts (rather graphic! Be cautious, please); Bleeding wounds on hands and wrists. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Neurodermatitis; Cuddling; Showering; Reassurance.

It had been a nice day. Dan had a day off. You were home, too, but you had some work for university that you needed to get done. That work was quickly finished, though, and so you ended up on the couch together, watching some movies and just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the day. It was nice. Relaxing.

Eventually, late evening was approaching and you still needed to take a shower. It was so set in your routine, on top of medically needed, and also forced upon you by your OCD, so that you couldn't wait till morning. You hated it. You didn't want to leave Dan's side, nor did you want to shower as it was. "I can feel you're stressed. What is it, sweetheart?" Dan asked, pulling you out of your head. "Just... Showering?" You replied, a little unsure if he would get it. "Right, right," he murmured, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss on your forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" "No, I don’t think so. I'm sorry. And if I put it off any longer, it's only gonna get worse." "Alright then. I'll be right here when you get back, okay?" He kissed your forehead again, then your lips and then he gave you a little nudge to make you get up. You tried to calm yourself while you got everything ready for the shower. You didn't have to look at yourself. You were pretty good at looking up to the ceiling or just closing your eyes, when you were showering. Yet, you weren't sure if any of that would help that day. No thanks to your OCD, you excessively washed your hands too many times a day to keep count of. On top of that, you were suffering from neurodermatitis, so your skin was even more prone to splitting open and getting bloody and raw from washing it so much. And at the moment, your wrists and the backs of your hands were full of little open wounds - some even a little bigger - and dry and angry red patches of skin that looked like rashes. It all hurt a ton. Burning, pulling your skin open with each movement, stabbing pains and so forth. You wished it wasn't like that. You really did. It was upsetting. You felt like people would look at your hands and see how broken you were. How beyond repair you were. You hated it. Eventually, you got into the shower and started following your routine. It went well until you caught a glimpse of your wrists, both such an angry red, the wounds standing out like they were actively trying to get attention from people. Suddenly, your mind's eye was filled with these images. You got them a lot. Self-destructive. Hard to resist at times. Yet, those were new. They showed you how you would turn the water to its hottest level and just stand there until it scalded your skin, starting to burn it off even. They showed you how you would take a knife and just slice it all off, getting rid of the evidence. It was utterly distressing. You didn't want to do any of this. You didn't! It wouldn't make your problem any better. It would make it worse if anything. You knew that. You also knew you wouldn't follow through with it. At least you hoped you wouldn't. You weren't so sure anymore, when you noticed that the water was pretty hot already, almost unbearably so. Had you turned the handle after all? You quickly turned it to make the spray lukewarm, finished off with your routine quickly and got out of the shower. Drying yourself was hurried, so was putting on your clothes. You did your hair a little and washed your hands again, like you always did. Then you pulled the sleeves of your sleeping shirt over your hands. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so you had hoped. The thoughts, the images; they were haunting you. They played in the back of your mind, over and over again, distressing you further. You got back to the living room, to the couch, where Dan was still sitting. Immediately, his attention was on you, when you entered the room. His face had concern written all over it. So he probably felt your distress. Fuck. With a sigh, you sat down next to him again, pressing into his side. You couldn't talk, you realised, as you tried to tell him that you were okay. It would have been a lie and he would have known it, but he knew not to pressure you and to accept your lies sometimes. Dan wrapped his arms around you, pressing your face into his chest. It was calming. Reassuring. Grounding. His hands were rubbing your arm and your back respectively, soothing you. Can I do anything for you? You closed your eyes, when his low, soothing voice rang through your head. You tried so hard to think, to see past the hurt and intrusive thoughts, if there was anything he could do. But you came up empty-handed. You always did. Shaking your head, you whined. You were so fucking exhausted. Tired. Broken. Subconsciously, you had started scratching your wrists. Your neurodermatitis was triggered by distress, your skin was itching and prickling all over, but your wrists were the worst. They were burning with it. Dan put a hand over the one you were scratching yourself with and stopped it. He took your hand into yours, intertwined your fingers and squeezed it gently, reassuringly. It's okay. Should I get your lotion? You shook your head, getting up yourself instead. You needed to wash your hands before putting your lotion on them anyway. So you did just that. It hurt. Your open and bleeding wounds burned and stung. So much, so that you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut and exhale forcibly to push down the pathetic whine that tried to escape you instead. Afterwards, your sleeves were pulled over your hands again; both as to not see them and to be able to cuddle back into Dan. You hated the lotion on your forearms and hands. It was a thick, sticky layer that didn't help you in the end anyway. Dan put his arms back around you, going back to rubbing you soothingly. You noticed that he had put in one of your comfort movies without question. In thanks you nuzzled his chest, kissing it briefly. You were so tired. You would have loved to just go to sleep and leave everything behind yourself; but you knew you wouldn't be able to find any rest if you were to go to bed in such distress. When the film was over, the two of you got yourselves ready for bed and crawled under the covers eventually. Dan was spooning you from behind, one arm around your middle, the other under your neck, pillowing your head. Your legs were intertwined and one of your arms was griping onto the one he had wrapped around your waist. "Do you want to tell me what upset you?" He whispered softly, gently kissing the back of your neck. "New intrusive thoughts," you answered shortly, a frustrated sigh leaving you. He nuzzled your hair on the nape of your neck with his nose, pressing another gentle kiss on your skin. "Would you elaborate on that or would you rather forget about it for now?" "I don't know. It's just... It's about the wounds on my wrists and such. I- I'm fucking damaged, Dan. Anyone who sees these wounds will know I'm beyond repair. I just want it all gone. I want them gone. I want the skin off of me. That's- That's what these thoughts- images rather - were about. And I don't know what to do because they're so hard to resist, even though they'd only make it all so much worse." "Y/N, let me say that you are not beyond repair. Nor are you damaged. I may not be able to fully understand this particular problem you're facing, now, but I'm determined to help and support you through it." Swallowing thickly, you squeezed the arm you have been gripping the entire time, wordlessly thanking him. "And listen, darling. We'll find solutions for you, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. If you need me to shower with you, I'll do just that. If you need to talk to me before, during and - or after, I'll be there to talk to you. Even when I should not be home and at work instead, we can always talk over the phone, okay? If the thoughts should become too much and you're afraid you're gonna follow through with them, I'll be there for you and help you, okay? You're not alone, I promise you." A pause. "You're such a strong man, you know? Each day, I am so proud of you. You've come so far, despite every stone that's been placed in front of you - and you keep on going. I love you, y/n and I admire you." Tears were shining in your eyes and as so often, you couldn't fathom just what you've done to deserve an understanding and amazing boyfriend, such as Dan was. "I love you, too, Dan. Thank you. I- I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. You take my breath away and make me speechless. You know how proud of you I am - each and every day for fighting so hard, for surviving like you are. You truly amaze me, my love," you responded softly, your voice breaking a little on every other word. Dan squeezed you tightly, pressing against your back and kissing the back of neck once more. Go to sleep, my darling. I'm here. I'll protect you. You heard his voice in your head again, smiling softly as you did. Then you nodded and closed your eyes, getting comfortable. Your mind was mostly quiet for the first time this evening.

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