#excited for Logince Week either way

[oatmealdaydreams]

Hey, stargazers and flowerbeds <3

I know I've been tagged in things (never stop doing that, I love it and it makes me smile!), and I know it's been a while since I last posted a fic. This is a lil 'this is why I'm mainly doing reblogs' kind of post.

First was the holiday season, so of course I was busy during that. Then, some pretty low mental health moments. And of course, me now being sick and shit.

It's a been a few minor-ish things just piling up. I'll be okay, don't worry. Mainly just sick rn. Hoping it'll go away in a few days, so I can prep for Logince Week. So, if there's only reblogs or even radio silence days, that's why. I am simply under the weather rn.

So yeah. Energy very low. It's a lot just doing this post and trying to catch up on things I get tagged in.

I'll be okay :D

Anyway: stay safe and take care <3

[rosepetalgold]

sapphire thoughts of you (keep dancing through my mind)

Summary: Roman tackles an art assignment at the last minute and has a wonderful, awful, terrifying revelation about his feelings for Logan.

Relationships: Pre-relationship Logince; some platonic Dukexiety, Creativitwins, and Prinxiety

Warnings: Sexual innuendo and language courtesy of Remus, a tiny bit of guilt about executive dysfunction (please let me know if anything else should be warned for!)

Word count: 6633

Notes: A very late Day 3 of Logince Week 2022 (@loginceweek2022) for the prompt Imagination. This fic can be read as part of the series or as a stand-alone, although it will probably make more sense to read it in the context of the first two fics for the week. Takes place during fall semester of junior year (3rd year) of college. Remus uses xe/xem/xyr pronouns; Janus uses they/he/she pronouns; all other sides use he/him pronouns at this point.

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

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Shades of Blue and Red

start - previous - you're here! - next

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Roman was trying to get his life together. He was, really, even if it seemed like a monumental, never-ending task most days. Last semester had been hectic and stressful and he’d barely squeaked by, and since he was now facing down a full schedule of upperclassman-level courses as a junior, not to mention his extracurriculars, he knew he needed to get his shit together if he wanted to stand a chance of surviving this year with his sanity intact.

It helped that most of his general requirements were out of the way now, meaning almost all of his classes from here on out would either be related to his major or electives. Roman was entirely too excited for them and genuinely wanted to do well.

Hence trying to get his life in some semblance of order.

He’d asked Logan to help him come up with a study plan after the first week of classes, which had made his eyes light up like he’d just seen a new flavor of Crofter’s, the big nerd, and the next day he’d handed Roman half-a-dozen example study schedules (“with plenty of breaks,” he’d promised, apparently remembering one of Roman’s stipulations for their tutoring arrangement freshman year) and a thick stack of papers outlining various study methods and told Roman to just ask if he ever wanted help or a study buddy.

When they’d heard that Roman was trying to be more organized, Virgil had commandeered his syllabi and helped him write all his exam dates and big performances in his wall calendar and hang it above his desk, and Patton had decorated folders for each of his classes to keep his papers all in one place.

(Remus and Janus had just lounged on his bed and made passive aggressive comments about the ways everyone else was helping, but really, Roman hadn’t expected much else from them, so he hadn’t been too put out.)

And Roman had tried. He’d forced himself to try out all of Logan’s recommended study methods and had added all his smaller assignments and play practices to his calendar (and then painstakingly set entirely too many reminders on his phone for everything) and had made extra copies of his syllabi and kept them in their folders so he didn’t lose them.

It had helped, too, even if he still struggled to make himself study some days and still sometimes forgot when assignments were due and still could never keep all his papers organized in their folders instead of in various piles around his room that made sense to him and him alone.

But even if Roman’s life wasn’t perfectly organized, he was certainly more on top of things than he had been so far in college, and it was paying off, Roman mostly pleased with how he was doing in his classes and only occasionally feeling like he was overwhelmed and drowning as opposed to most of the time (it was still college, after all; stress was just part of the experience).

But Roman was Roman and old habits died hard and the procrastination that had plagued his entire academic career apparently did not give one single fuck about his marginally more organized life or how much he wanted to do well in his classes.

Which is why he was currently at his desk at 11:24 on a Thursday evening, blank sketchbook in front of him and various art supplies scattered across his desk, trying to come up with some idea, any idea, for the art assignment that was due in less than twelve hours.

Had he had a solid week to work on it? Why yes, he had.

Had he done so? Absolutely not.

Really, when he thought about it though, he hadn’t had a week to work on it, because last weekend he’d been cramming for an exam and then he’d taken a break the next day or two to celebrate getting the test over with, plus rehearsals had run late every night this week and one evening he’d had to help Virgil rescue a bird from inside the on-campus cafe he worked at and then Patton had given him sad puppy dog eyes when he’d said he couldn’t come over for movie night so of course he’d caved. So really, he’d just had today to work on it.

(And then this evening he’d laid on his bed for two hours, scrolling through his phone while his brain yelled at him to get up and do work and he’d been utterly unable to do so no matter how hard he’d tried and no matter how guilty it had made him feel, but that was beside the point.)

He’s glad Logan isn’t here to point out that he would have had plenty of time to complete the assignment if he’d just skipped sleeping. Roman did not need to have another argument with him about why his beauty sleep was not optional.

The frustrating thing was that this shouldn’t be a hard assignment for him. The prompt was imagination, for Disney’s sake. Roman practically lived and breathed imagination, for better or worse. But the broadness of the topic was stumping him, which didn’t make any sense because imagination was such a vague prompt that he could draw just about anything and get away with it, but that was precisely the problem – he could draw anything.

The whole world lay open at his artistic fingertips and here he is staring at a blank sheet of paper like he’s never had an original thought in his life.

He huffs out a sigh, toying with the edge of the sketchbook as he lets his other hand sketch a few random shapes on the pages, waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration to strike. A few of the shapes consolidate into actual forms and objects, but they come out all wrong when he tries to refine them into something workable, the shapes too bulky, the angles too sharp.

He groans as he flips to a blank page, glaring at the clock as it dares to tick forward another minute towards his deadline.

Imagination.

Anything he can imagine.

Whatever is going through his head.

A prince setting off on a quest to save the kingdom, a dragon roaring in fury, a happy ending neatly tied up in a bow…

It’s all too contrite, too predictable. His ideas are nothing that haven’t already been done a hundred times in a hundred ways, nothing that spark any sort of inspiration, nothing that he can feel proud of.

Part of him is tempted to just suck it up and sketch out some second-rate fairytale anyways, especially with how late it’s getting, but his pride refuses to half-ass this assignment. Imagination is what Roman is known for, after all. He has to create something good, especially since he’s spent so long procrastinating on it. Did that logic even make sense? He doesn’t know anymore. He just wants to get this over with so he can get a precious few hours of sleep before he has to drag himself to class tomorrow morning.

And still he can’t do anything but stare blankly at the white sheet of paper in front of him.

He doesn’t know what on earth he’s done to piss off the Muses, but apparently he needs to figure it out and remedy it ASAP.

Maybe he’s trying too hard, trying to force himself to come up with some fantastical idea that will never translate well into this kind of media. Maybe he needs to go at things another way, shift his perspective a little. The best art was always based at least a little bit in reality, wasn’t it?

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts of knock-off Disney princes and their quests, closing his eyes and letting images flash through his mind, allowing his stream of consciousness to carry him where it wills.

What he’d learned in class that day, a cool cloud he’d seen that Remus had immediately made a dirty joke about, the plot of the movie he’d watched with Patton earlier in the week…

Nothing exciting and certainly nothing usable. Apparently Roman is living a profoundly boring life. He’s about ready to give up when his thoughts start to shift, beginning to coalesce into something else, something that feels intangibly different.

Flashes of navy blue, the smell of strong coffee, a glimpse of white teeth as a head tips back with a rare peal of laughter, a soft warmth blooming just underneath Roman’s ribs…

Roman fumbles for his pencil and sets it to the paper without opening his eyes, hardly daring to breathe as he lets memories morph into possibilities and concrete sensations evolve into abstract representations, letting his hand sketch shapes blind.

His pencil is flying now, the idea clarifying more with every passing second, and he can visualize it in shades of blue and red, the heart of the drawing a brilliant sunburst of purple, the push and pull between logic and creativity tied together into something that encompasses the strengths of both, and all he can see is Logan, all he can think is Logan, all he can breathe is Logan Logan Logan, that warm feeling of rightness whenever he’s around him blooming in Roman’s chest and between his ribs and around his heart until it’s all he can feel-

Oh.

Oh.

His hand stutters to a halt as the realization he’s been holding back for a year crashes over him.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

‘Don’t go falling in love with me,’ Roman had told Logan freshman year that night they’d finally agreed to a truce for their rivalry and oh, how cruel and ironic the fates were that now it’s Roman who’s gone and found himself falling in love with Logan.

What a wonderful, remarkable, incredible thing.

Because Logan was passionate and driven and so smart that Roman didn’t even really understand what he was talking about half the time when he got going, but he could listen to him all day anyways. Because he was stubborn and challenging and beyond infuriating some days and yet Roman knew that his life would be markedly worse without Logan in it. Because despite all their differences, the two of them made a remarkably complementary team.

What a terrible, dreadful, disastrous thing.

Because Logan had told him once, after one of Remus’ and Janus’ parties, when he’d drunk just enough wine to loosen his tongue, that he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship while he was in college, that he wouldn’t have time for one even if he wanted to what with his intensive courseload taking up any spare second he had.

Because Logan had called him ‘a good friend’ last year when Roman had somehow convinced him to take a break and eat some food and have a nap during the hell of finals week, and the words had meant a lot coming from Logan, who never said things he didn’t mean, and if Logan had said ‘friend’ then Roman was sure that he’d meant ‘friend’ and not a single thing more.

Because Roman can’t say anything about his newly identified feelings. He can’t. It was nothing short of a miracle that they’d even gotten to where they were, to a place of genuine friendship from where they’d started steeped in mutual resentment, and Roman values that friendship entirely too much to risk ruining things by confessing his feelings when he already knows that Logan isn’t interested in pursuing any kind of more-than-platonic relationship. This is Roman’s problem to deal with, not Logan’s.

Still, that doesn’t mean that Roman doesn’t want. And oh how he wants Logan, now that he recognizes his feelings for what they are. Not in a vulgar, sexual way. No, he wants to twine their fingers together as they walk across campus, wants to tuck him up under his arm and share a blanket with him on movie nights, wants to lay his head in Logan’s lap and just listen to him talk about his day.

The sudden yearning for that kind of simple, domestic intimacy is overwhelming, the weight of it settling into his bones in a way that’s almost painful, but the ache is nothing compared to the soft, brilliant joy of his newly discovered feelings for Logan.

Roman was so screwed. So royally screwed. So unbelievably, incontrovertibly, undeniably royally screwed.

And he can’t even take the proper time to try and work out the whirlwind of emotions battering his psyche or attempt to come up with any kind of plan for what to do besides repress it, don’t let Logan know, keep it to yourself and deal with it on your own even if it kills you because he still has that damn art assignment to do.

Blinking his eyes open, the light of his desk lamp now entirely too bright after having his eyes closed for who-knows-how-long while he had his world-altering epiphany, he turns his gaze back to the paper in front of him.

“Fuck,” he says again as he stares at what he’s brainstormed, because it’s good. It’s loose and sketchy and things are all over the place from drawing with his eyes closed, but the composition is solid and the idea in his head has translated reasonably well and he can see how the finished piece is going to come together with a sudden clarity.

Blowing out a long breath, he tears the page out of his sketchbook, propping it up on his desk to use as a reference.

Imagination, he thinks. For better or worse.

Then he leans forward in his chair, picks up his pencil, and gets to work.

-

A Love Story Between Logic and Creativity, Roman titles the drawing.

He doesn’t stop once in the hours he works on it, so wholly focused on getting this line just right, that shading just so, the expression of the piece just perfect, that he doesn’t so much as look up from his sketchbook until his alarm chirps a cheerful tone, weak morning sunlight spilling around the edges of his blinds.

Roman can’t help but think that despite the last-minute time crunch – or perhaps because of it – that it’s one of the best things he’s drawn in a long time.

Or maybe he’s just a little biased because of the inspiration behind the drawing. Turns out, in addition to his innumerable other talents, Logan makes an excellent Muse.

Either way, Roman’s art professor must agree, because when she hands back the drawing a week later it’s with a comment sheet filled with glowing praise. Roman is ecstatic as he practically skips out of the classroom, grinning like a fool as he makes his way out into the afternoon sunshine. A flash of neon green catches his eye and he realizes it’s Remus, step in step with Virgil as they make their way down the ramp leading to the main library doors, Virgil seemingly arguing about some cryptid or other and Remus nodding along sagely.

“Virgil!” Roman calls, bounding up to them. “And you too, I guess,” he adds to Remus, who sticks his tongue out at him. “Look! Look at what I got on this art assignment!”

He flips the sketchbook open to his drawing and its attached comment sheet, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement as he points at the 4.0 circled at the bottom of the feedback slip, and realizes a beat too late that to anyone familiar with Logan – say, two of his best friends – it was painfully obvious who the artwork was inspired by.

Sure enough, Remus laughs incredulously as xe stares at the paper, and Virgil heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“You two are fucking hopeless,” he mutters, tugging his hood up over his head.

“Fucking?” Remus cackles before Roman can ask what Virgil means by you two. “Roman only wishes they were fucking, don’t you, bro?”

Roman splutters, socking Remus in the arm, but his twin just does a full-body wiggle of delight at the violent treatment.

“Come on, be honest. I mean, the prompt was imagination, right?” he asks, pointing at the relevant line on the comment sheet. “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t let your imagination wander a little bit? You and the nerd having a bit of fun, things getting steamy, some X-rated adult fun time?”

“No!” Roman protests. “Get your mind out of the gutter for once, you freak of nature!”

“How kind of you,” Remus purrs.

Honestly, there wasn’t a single day that went by without Remus making Roman wonder what kind of bad karma he had managed to rack up in a previous life to have this utterly obnoxious person as his sibling.

Roman is saved from having to respond by a familiar black-shirted figure appearing in his peripheral vision. A noise that sounds distinctly like a goose being strangled escapes his mouth and he snaps the sketchbook closed so quickly he almost fumbles it right out of his hands, clutching it to his chest as if Logan has suddenly developed x-ray vision and will be able to see the incriminating evidence of Roman’s unrequited feelings if Roman doesn’t block it with his arms.

“Greetings,” Logan says, coming to a halt at the edge of their little group. “May I ask what you all were looking at?”

Remus’ eyes positively light up and Roman glares at xem, stepping on xyr foot in a not-so-subtle warning and trying his best to beam NO REMUS DON’T YOU DARE down any telepathic twin bond they might possess.

Remus, predictably, ignores him.

“Roman did a drawing-”

“Re and I were just leaving,” Virgil says over xem loudly, latching onto the back of Remus’ collar to cut xem off and tugging the taller man back a step, and Roman could kiss him right then and there for it. “See you guys later.”

He drags Remus backwards down the sidewalk, and far from seeming aggravated or annoyed, Remus, if anything, looks ecstatic.

“Choke me harder, Virgie,” xe wheezes, and Virgil makes a sound of disgust and drops Remus like he’s been burned, grabbing the strap of xyr backpack instead to continue hauling xem back towards the main quad.

“Shut up, you menace. Don’t ever call me that.”

“Ooh, you want me to call you daddy instead? Choke me harder, daddy?”

“I swear to fucking god, Remus-”

“Make those dreams a reality, lover boy!” Remus interrupts him to shout over xyr shoulder at Roman as they round the corner and disappear from sight.

Logan turns his gaze from the spectacle to Roman, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Do I want to know what that was about?”

Roman pulls a face, trying not to squirm uncomfortably.

“You know how Remus is. It was probably just some stupid comment or something.”

It’s a terrible lie and he knows Logan can probably tell, but the other man thankfully doesn’t call him out on it.

“Are you working on a new piece of art?” he asks after a brief pause, nodding at the sketchbook in Roman’s grip.

“I just got my last assignment back, actually.” His good mood from before is rushing back at the reminder and he grins, bouncing on his toes. “I got a 4.0! And the professor really liked it and there’s an art show coming up at the end of the semester that she suggested I enter this drawing into.”

“That is excellent news,” Logan says, and he does look happy, a small smile tugging his lips up at the corners. “I am very pleased for you. May I see the drawing?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“No,” he blurts.

He can’t show Logan the drawing, not when there’s so many recognizable elements of Logan in it. Maybe that would have been fine if it had just been Logan represented in the art – Roman could pass it off as an assignment to make a personal study about one of his friends or something – but Roman had so clearly, so stupidly, put obvious aspects of himself into the artwork too because he couldn’t just pine over Logan in secret, oh no, he had to be a blinding moron and put his unrequited affection into a drawing for everyone to see.

And then he had to title it A Love Story Between Logic and Creativity in swirling gold calligraphy across the top. He knows Logan often struggles to understand the more abstract aspects of art, but that title, combined with the personal elements of the drawing and the fact that it’s done in shades of both of their signature colors, is sure to make him ask a few questions that Roman is not prepared to answer.

Logan cocks his head, clearly confused at Roman’s emphatic answer.

“No? But I thought that Remus and Virgil have already seen it?”

“They have,” Roman replies, mentally cursing himself for showing it to either of them, 4.0 be damned. Apparently this is what he gets for being so excited about getting positive feedback and wanting to share his success with his friends. “But you can’t.”

Logan frowns, expression closing in on itself and fingers beginning to tap a quick rhythm on his thigh.

“I know that I often critique your creative endeavors, but I can assure you that I do not have any malicious intent. If you do not want me to comment on this particular work, be it constructive criticism or otherwise, I will not do so. I only wish to congratulate you on your accomplishment.”

“You are a harsh critic of what I do most of the time,” Roman agrees before he can stop himself, and why can’t he ever just keep his mouth shut or learn to filter words before they bypass his brain entirely and come spilling out of his lips.

He scrambles for words, some words, any words, to follow up his statement, to communicate that Logan’s criticism and blunt opinions, while hard to hear no matter how much Roman tried to thicken his skin, were often precisely what Roman needed to refine a bad idea into a good one and a good idea into a great one.

But apparently he’s complained too soon, because now he can’t do anything but keep his mouth shut, his tongue laying heavy and leaden as he struggles to actually put his sentiment into words.

He’s silent too long.

“Alright, then,” Logan says after an excruciating pause, and his voice is painfully neutral but there’s a pinched look to his expression as he simultaneously reaches up to adjust both his tie and his glasses in a gesture that Roman knows means he’s upset. “I will not ask to see your artwork in the future, nor will I make any comments about it.”

Roman’s stomach lurches because no, this isn’t right, that’s not what he wants at all-

“Logan-”

“I really must be going,” Logan interrupts him. “I have an essay to finish for one of my classes. Have a good afternoon, Roman.”

And then he’s gone, brushing past him and pushing his way through the library doors before Roman can stop him, and Roman just stares after him for a long moment.

“Well,” he mutters to himself, glaring down at the sketchbook still clutched to his chest. “That certainly went well.”

-

“What the hell happened with you and Logan?”

Roman jumps at the demanding question, highlighter skidding across his script in a streak of orange over lines that definitely aren’t his, and glances up from his page to find Virgil standing in front of him, arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

“What?” Roman responds eloquently. Truly, he had such a talent for oratory. Theaters everywhere should be clamoring to have him grace their stages.

“He’s been in a terrible mood ever since he saw you outside the library the other day. Did you two have a fight or something? Because if so you need to get over yourself and apologize because I think I speak for everyone when I say I am not interested in going back to the way things were freshman year when you two couldn’t even be civil to each other.”

“It’s not that,” Roman assures him, tucking one of his legs up onto the bench where he’s been taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather to study outside. “We’re not fighting.”

“Then what the fuck is the problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Roman.”

“Nothing!”

“Roman.” Virgil sounds practically murderous. “Do not make me go get Patton and have him sit you two down for ‘feelings time’ or whatever shit he does with the kindergartners in his education class.”

“I like him, okay?” Roman bursts out, because he just can’t keep it to himself any longer, and telling one of Logan’s roommates probably isn’t the smartest move, but the words are out before he can stop them. He braces himself for some kind of reaction – surprise? anger? disbelief? – but Virgil just rolls his eyes.

“What, you just figured that out?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! What do you mean- Did you already know?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Roman practically shrieks, sending a nearby squirrel racing for the safety of the nearest tree. Virgil just stares at him, disbelief beginning to color his expression.

“I thought you already knew! It’s so obvious; you always sit next to him at dinner and you have a thousand little nicknames for him and you always look at him in this infatuated way you never look at anyone else and, like, a million other things. After seeing your drawing the other day Remus and I made a bet on whether you two were secretly already fucking behind everyone’s backs.”

“You did what?”

Virgil winces.

“Okay, you definitely didn’t need to know that last part, but at least I just won twenty bucks.” He pauses for a moment, considering. “I did just win twenty bucks, right? This isn’t a lover’s quarrel situation between you and Logan?”

“No!” Roman snaps, cheeks heating. “We’re not fucking, as you so tastefully put it.”

“Oh.” He’s silent for a moment, all his initial anger seemingly drained away by this latest development. “Well, the rest of what I said is true. I figured you already knew you liked him from how you were acting.”

“Did everybody know before I did?”

“Remus and I, clearly – I’m surprised xe didn’t say anything to you – and I’m sure xe’s told Janus if they hadn’t figured it out on their own, but I don’t think Patton does-”

“Does Logan know?” Roman interrupts as the horrifying thought occurs to him.

“No,” Virgil says decisively, and Roman doesn’t even question why he has such conviction about it, just slumps in relief.

“Why did it have to be Logan?” he moans, fully aware that he’s probably being melodramatic and not caring one bit. “I mean, of course it was Logan, he’s Logan, you know, but why? Why him?”

Virgil shifts his weight between his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking distinctly out of his element.

“I’m sure if you just told him-”

“No.”

“But he-”

“No!” Roman cuts in again, harsher than he means, and guilt spikes through him as Virgil’s shoulders stiffen. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I don’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your problem. But Logan’s said – some things. To me. About relationships and whatnot that I don’t want to talk about, but I just- he just- he wouldn’t want-”

He breaks off with a frustrated noise, unable to articulate any of the reasons why telling Logan how he feels would be a profoundly terrible idea.

“Okay,” Virgil concedes after a moment. “If you say so. And I won’t say anything to him about this if you don’t want me to, promise, but when you’re ready you should really talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” Roman wavers, glancing back down at the script abandoned in his lap, but Virgil kicks lightly at his shoe, drawing his gaze up again.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Trust me. Talk to him.”

Roman nods, more to placate him than out of any actual intention of taking his suggestion, and after a moment Virgil’s sincere expression shifts into his familiar smirk.

“Don’t worry if it doesn’t work out, though,” he says. “We all know your one true love is yourself.”

Roman squawks in indignant protest and Virgil just laughs, shooting him a two-fingered salute as he heads off.

Talk to him echoes in Roman’s mind as he tries to refocus his attention on his script, and he can’t quite shake the words away. Hell itself will freeze over before Roman marches up to Logan and says ‘hey, I know you told me that you didn’t want any kind of relationship in college but I’m hoping that since I’m your ex-rival and one of your best friends that you’ll make an exception for me,’ but Virgil is right. They do need to talk.

Maybe a conversation of a different type is in order. Maybe something that sounds like an apology.

Which is how he finds himself hovering outside Logan’s apartment door several days later, trying to steel his nerves enough to actually knock.

He has absolutely no intentions of saying anything about his feelings for Logan like Virgil had suggested – he still outright refuses to make it Logan’s problem in any way – but he can’t stand how things have been this past week, the tension between him and Logan thick enough to be suffocating as Logan presumably thinks Roman doesn’t ever want to hear his opinion again while Roman agonizes over the misunderstanding but can’t say anything for fear he’ll blurt out his feelings at the first opportunity. They’ve hardly seen each other all week, one finding any convenient excuse to leave as soon as the other shows up.

But Logan is nothing if not a creature of habit, and so Roman knows that on Sunday afternoons like today he will, without fail, be found studying at home with one half-hour allotted for a mid-afternoon coffee break.

The long walk to Logan’s apartment has given Roman ample time to question each and every thing in his life that has led him to this moment, but he forces himself to rap his knuckles against the door before he can chicken out. This will be good for him, right? Personal growth or something? And he can’t possibly make things worse, can he? Hopefully?

Roman is thankfully saved from having to think about how yes, he can indeed easily make things much worse by Logan answering the door, and Roman’s heart takes an abrupt leap into his throat.

“Roman,” Logan greets him cordially enough, but there’s something guarded in his expression.

“Hey, Specs,” Roman replies, hoping after he says it that Logan won’t take offense at the nickname. “Can I come in for a minute?”

Logan wordlessly steps back and holds the door open and Roman slips inside. Virgil and Patton are studying together in the living room, some animated movie playing on a low volume in the background, and they wave in unison when they catch sight of him.

“Can we talk in private?” Roman asks quietly as Logan clicks the front door shut. Virgil’s head shoots up so fast that Roman swears he hears something pop, and Roman emphatically shakes his head at him as soon as Logan turns to lead them down the hall. Virgil flops back onto the couch and pulls a pillow over his face with a groan.

And he always complains Roman is the overdramatic one.

Logan is silent as he leads them to his room and leans against the edge of the desk, dark gaze fixed somewhere just over Roman’s shoulder. Roman eases the door shut and hovers just inside the threshold, feeling like it would be an egregious breach of personal space to sit on Logan’s bed at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he says without preamble, because being blunt and straightforward seems like the best way to go and has always been what Logan prefers anyways. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about you being such a harsh critic of my art the other day. It was a kneejerk reaction and I know that’s not any kind of excuse, but that drawing in particular was – special to me. And I wasn’t ready to show it to you. I honestly wasn’t planning on showing it to anyone, including Virgil and Remus, but I was so excited about getting good feedback on it that I didn’t even think before I let them see it.”

“It’s fine,” Logan says dismissively. “You can show your art to whomever you wish. It’s in the past now, anyways; there’s no need to make a big deal about it.”

“It’s not fine,” Roman insists, risking the tiniest of steps towards Logan, whose expression is still impassive. “I do value your opinion, Logan, even if I’m terrible at showing it sometimes. Well, most of the time, probably, because I know I can get caught up in myself. But I do want to know what you think, and I do want you to feel listened to. Your feedback on anything creative I do, whether it be drawing or writing or acting, is always helpful no matter if it’s positive or negative. You look at the world in an entirely different way than I do and that’s amazing, because it means you pick up on a lot of the flaws that I’m blind to. So I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I don’t value hearing your opinion, because I promise I do. And I want to prove it to you.”

Logan doesn’t reply, which isn’t quite a yes but certainly isn’t a no, so Roman digs his sketchbook out of his bag and flips it to the page he’s marked, moving to the neutral zone of the bed and setting the pad of paper atop the duvet before stepping back to give Logan plenty of space to look at it without feeling crowded.

“I want your opinion,” Roman says honestly. “Any criticism, any critique, any comments. Tear it to figurative shreds. Or literal shreds, if you want.”

Logan pushes himself off his desk and steps closer, staring down at the sketch, and Roman’s heartbeat ticks up, his breath catching in his chest as he waits for his friend’s reaction, bracing himself for the undeniable hurt of harsh words and trying to remind himself that criticism against his work is not criticism against himself as a person. Logan reaches out but stops just short of touching the paper, fingertips ghosting over the swirls of color.

“Is this the drawing?”

“No,” Roman admits, because it turned out when it came down to it that he was maybe just a little bit of a coward. “But it’s similar.”

It is, the same color scheme of blues and reds around a core of purple, and it had been a challenging but rewarding task to recreate the piece only in its most abstract form, to remove any hints of Roman and Logan from it and still maintain the balance and visual interest that had made the work successful to begin with. Roman isn’t sure he’s managed it, and the copy definitely lacks a certain quality he can’t quite put his finger on, but he didn’t dare risk showing Logan the original drawing.

Logan just hums in acknowledgement, eyes sweeping over the artwork with an inscrutable expression, and Roman knows there’s not a single detail that will escape his attention.

“I do have one critique,” he finally says after a minute that feels like an eternity, and Roman suddenly feels so nervous that he feels like he might either pass out or throw up, because this is it, Logan has managed to see right to the heart of the drawing no matter how many personal details Roman has taken out of it, he’s realized Roman has feelings for him and is going to turn around and tear into him about how dare he be so presumptuous when he knew Logan didn’t want a relationship with anyone in college, let alone Roman-

“You should have made your signature bigger.”

Roman can only stare at him, thinking that he surely must have heard that wrong or processed it wrong or something.

“What?”

Or maybe Logan is trying to make fun of his ego. Honestly, Roman wouldn’t even blame him.

“Where you signed your name. You should have made it larger. This is a striking piece, and you deserve to be recognized as the one who created it.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Roman assures him. “You really can criticize it however much you want.”

“Well,” Logan starts, gaze slipping back down to the drawing, and Roman’s heart leaps back into overdrive. “This angle is off. It’s not quite in line with these other ones and it makes the whole perspective seem just a little strange.”

Strangely enough, that’s what does it, and just like that Roman can feel the tension between them shatter.

He laughs, because Logan is right, of course he is, that angle is off, he can see it clear as day now that Logan has pointed it out.

“Thanks, Lo,” he says. “I’ll be sure to pay more attention to that in the future.”

Logan smiles, small but genuine, and offers the sketchbook back to Roman, who tears out the page and hands it right back.

“Keep it,” he insists. “I have too much art and nothing to do with it anyways.”

Logan nods, laying the drawing carefully on his desk.

“Would you like to stay and study?” he asks, and Roman can recognize the words for the peace offering they are, something tight and coiled in his core relaxing at the realization that their friendship is still intact.

“I would love to.”

-

The afternoon passes quickly, the two of them studying in companionable silence, Logan meticulously organized at his desk, Roman with papers strewn everywhere around him on the floor. Eventually they emerge back into the common area to take a much-needed break, and Patton and Virgil use their presence as an excuse to take a break of their own.

Roman sets about raiding the cupboards for snacks, putting the kettle on to make some tea for everyone. Patton has pulled Logan into conversation and is making as many puns as possible while Logan protests and gives him disappointed looks but is clearly struggling not to smile, and Virgil is chuckling at their antics from where he’s perched on the counter. Logan finally breaks character and breaks into laughter as well, eyes shining, and that ache of wanting, of pining for something more, flares slightly from where it sits deep in Roman’s bones, a sharp contrast to the softness in his chest.

But he barely feels it as he grins, and as he watches Logan press a hand to his stomach as he laughs so hard he’s not even making noise, he realizes that this is enough. He may have imaginings of how he wants things to turn out, visions of a relationship and a life and a future with Logan, but when it came down to it, they were just that – imaginings. Nothing more than images dancing through his head, something to mull over and turn around in his mind when he was bored in class or couldn’t sleep at night, dreams that may or may not come true.

But here and now, Logan bright and happy and laughing in front of him, this is real, and even if he never has anything more than this with Logan, for better or worse, it’s enough.

What he has now is more than enough.

Logan is more than enough.

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Don’t be a coward

a/n: So, I’m super proud of this story but the first one did not do as well as I hoped. If you could, please like and re-blog it would make me so happy. Thank you all so much :)

Part 1, Part 2

Parings: Logince, Moxiety, and Demus 

Warnings: cursing, vague sex mentions, food, a ridiculous amount of pining, kissing, minor intoxication, alcohol mention (everyone is 18) 

Word count: 2,044

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Roman ran his fingers through his tousled hair, “Why is it so difficult to ask people out? '' he wined, dropping his head into his hands. Logan smirked from across the table, “asking someone to the ball is no more difficult than any of the abundance of sentences you have said in your short life” he sassed over his text-book. Roman just groaned and flipped the pages of his herbology book absentmindedly. 

Their study session was interrupted as Patton plopped down next to the frustrated boy. “Awww Roman, what’s wrong?” he asked and pulled out his homework. “He doesn’t have a date to the yule ball and is complaining about it, unsurprisingly” Logan responded for the grumpy Gryffindor. 

“Come on kiddo, you got this! Anyone would be lucky to have you as a date” the bubbly boy said, wrapping his arm around Roman, who was still sulking. “Tell that to Logan, he’s being mean” Roman grumbled. “mm-hmm” The Ravenclaw hummed, not looking up from his book. 

Patton laughed, “come on, there’s got to be someone you like!” Roman shook his head, “Yeah, like I’ve got a chance with them” Patton frowned, “that sounded a bit self-deprecating kiddo, don’t make me get violent” he chastised hugging Roman tighter. 

Roman looked incredulously at Patton, “I’m not being self-deprecating Pat, I’m just being honest. I’m a Triwizard champion and not one person wants to be with me” Logan looked over his book, “in a romantic sense” Roman corrected. 

“While that is statistically very improbable I do understand your distress, a Triwizard champion that does not have a date would most certainly be ridiculed during the first dance” Logan said, finally putting down his book. “I’ll be leaving you now, I will see you both at the feast,” Logan said, brushing off his skirt and sauntering away. 

“Hey, pat?” Patton hummed, “do you have a date?” The Hufflepuff froze, “why do ya ask kiddo?” Roman shrugged, “I was wondering if we could go platonically, if you don’t have a date of course” Patton smiled awkwardly, “Awwww, that’s sweet, but I already have a date. I’m sorry!” 

Roman eyes widened, “You- You have a date?” Patton nodded, “they asked me not to tell anyone but I figured you should know” the Gryffindor nodded, impressed. “I can not believe you got a date before me” 

Pattan grinned, “well you could always ask out Logan” Roman glared at him, “you know I want to ask out Logan. But he’s either gonna think it’s platonic or he’s gonna turn me down, and then I’ll be too heartbroken to dance” the frustrated boy dropped his head into his hands, “I’m screwed either way”. 

Patton just laughed and smiled knowingly. 

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The weeks leading up to the ball went far too fast. Of course Roman was as petrified as you could get. He had decided, dragons had nothing on this. 

He did end up with a date, some younger girl had asked and he figured there was no reason to say no. Logan did not receive a date but said he couldn’t care less. He planned to show up to support his friends, and then go back to the library. 

Roman could hear his brother shuffling around the back of the common room, probably trying to destroy his dress robes even more. He wasn’t sure if Remus had a date but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Remus did his own thing, he would be fine. The boy straightened his deep red dress robes the best he could, took a deep breath, and went down to meet his date. 

The date in question wore a long orange dress, similar to Romans red. The two walked to the great hall arm in arm, she wasn’t very talkative and mostly seemed to be going out with him for clout. Roman was well aware that this was as good as he was going to get. 

But it was pretty good, the hall was covered in glistening decorations, and snow fell gently on their heads. Romans date squealed in excitement, but Roman really couldn’t care less about the hall.

Logan was there.

The Ravenclaw wore a simple blue button-down shirt tucked into a long black skirt that was embroidered with silver constellations. His mid-length hair was pulled up into a bun that had been impaled by his wand. The light of the decorations seemed to bounce off of him like he was glowing.

“Oh my, he looks beautiful” Roman nodded but his date wasn’t facing Logan. After a moment of confusion, he followed her gaze. 

Patton, yes Patton, floated down the staircase. His light blue floor-length gown flowed around him like water as he walked. A sparkly headband was nestled in his curly hair and light makeup adorned his face along with a wide grin. He looked like a goddess, or at the very least a princess. Of course, Logan looked better in Roman’s eyes but Patton was a close second. 

Virgil walked up to Patton, bowing deeply and holding out his arm. Patton giggled and took it, allowing himself to be lead away. Roman’s jaw must have hit the floor. Not only did Patton look amazing but Virgil had asked him out, and he had said yes!

Roman’s date clung to his arm a little painfully as they followed the pair to the Professor leading the champions to the dance floor. 

The first dance was clumsy, and the second not much better. Roman was a decent dancer but he kept getting distracted by Logan, who kept popping up in his peripheral vision while conversing with the guests. His date was not happy with him. As soon as the dance floor was full she stalked away angrily, her orange dress flying behind her.

Roman hoped she got a better dance partner. 

Patton and Virgil still flew above the others, Janus had found himself a date as well. It looked like a Hogwarts student, but Roman couldn’t place them. They both wore yellow and green dress robes and floated almost as much as Patton and Virgil. Perhaps slightly less elegantly but floating nonetheless. A stark contrast to Roman’s dancing moments before. 

The champion slinked off of the dance floor. Roman was so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost slammed into a familiar figure carrying drinks, “oh my gosh, I’m so sorry- Oh Logan! How are you” Roman said, smiling at the boy. 

“I’m doing quite well, thank you Roman,” Logan said happily, “would you like to find a seat? I wouldn’t mind talking for a while” Roman nodded vigorously and the two made their way over to an empty table. 

“Is it safe to assume you did not know of Patton’s date?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, “I knew he had one but I didn’t know who it was” Logan bit his lip thoughtfully, “Me as well, and your brother?” 

Roman furrowed his eyebrows, “my brother?” he questioned. “Yes your brother, is that not him dancing with the Baubax champion?” Roman looked back onto the dance floor catching a glimpse of the yellow and green dancers, 

“HOLY SHIT!!! That is my brother! I didn’t know he had a date, he’s going out with Janus! Why is he so clean!!!” Roman said, freaking out. 

Logan laughed, “yes I figured it would be a surprise. I was there when Remus asked, it was quite amusing. I was surprised Janus said yes” Roman grinned, interested, “tell me about it!” he said and shimmied closer to Logan excitedly. 

The two sat and talked for quite a while. By the time the dance floor had cleared a bit, they were both drowsy and perhaps a bit tipsy. “Dance with me?” Roman offered his hand, mustering what little courage he had left. Logan nodded happily, taking Roman’s hand and allowing himself to be led onto the floor. 

‘This is more like floating’ Roman thought he wrapped his hands around Logan’s waist. Logan was an excellent dancer, much better than his last partner (no shade to her but Logan is perfect in every way). 

As they danced they passed Patton who squealed excitedly and whispered something to his partner. Virgil smiled at Roman in a congratulatory way, Roman smiled right back. They also passed Roman’s brother who stuck out his tongue at Roman and flipped him off. Roman retaliated instantly, causing both Logan and Janus to laugh. 

Logan leaned his forehead against Roman’s shoulder, “I like dancing with you” he mumbled into the red fabric, “I like dancing with you too” Roman said his face now matching his robes. 

In a bout of bravery, he pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. Logan pulled Roman even closer and breathed deeply. 

They stayed like this for hours. Patton and Virgil disappeared and Remus was unabashedly making out with Janus in the corner of the ballroom. Roman tugged on Logan’s sleeve after the Ravenclaw yawned one too many times. “Bed?” Logan nodded sleepily. 

Roman walked Logan to the Ravenclaw common room. Logan stopped in front of the door letting go of Roman’s hand for the first time since the ballroom. “Well, I’ll see you later,” Logan said, “uh, yah! Tomorrow” Roman waved. Logan turned to go. 

‘Come on, don’t be a coward’ Roman could hear his brother scolding him. “Logan?” 

The Ravenclaw wiped around, “yes?” Roman took a step, “can I, um” he glanced down at Logan's lips, Logan nodded, “you may”. 

Neither were sure who closed the gap. 

Romans head filled with styrofoam as Logan’s lips connected with his. The Ravenclaw moved his hands to cup Romans face as Romans arms wrapped around his waist on instinct. Fireworks exploded around them, skin was cleared, crops were watered, all was well with the world. 

Then Logan pulled away. “Good night Roman,” he said grinning. Roman stood shell-shocked and Logan disappeared up the stairs. The Gryffindor ran his fingers across his lips and smiled. 

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weeks had flown by and the second task hung above the champion’s heads like swords. Logan and Patton helped Roman crack the egg puzzle in every way they could, but It just kept screaming. 

Virgil and Janus had started hanging out with the group of misfits. Janus was snarky and quick with a joke, they all grew to like him. Patton asked Virgil on another date and a few days later the two officially started dating.

Logan and Roman danced around each other both unsure how to ask the other out. Especially with the second task approaching alarmingly fast. 

“Roman!” a voice called from down the hallway, Roman turned towards it and smiled seeing it was Virgil, “Roman, I need to tell you something” Virgil painted, “yeah?”. “I know we agreed not to talk about the tournament because we’re both competing”

Roman tried to cut them off, “wait, listen. I never returned the tip about the dragons and you need to know” Roman looked hesitant, “I’m not sure…” Virgil sighed, “just…. you know the prefect’s bathroom,” he said. “Umm yeah,” Roman blinked, “it’s not a bad place for a bath” Roman blinked, “What? The hell does that mean???” but Virgil was already gone. 

That night Roman snuck down to the prefect’s bathroom, carrying the egg gingerly. He stripped down to his underwear and slipped into the huge bathtub. He turned back towards the egg sitting on the side. “This is crazy” he whispered to himself and screwed open the top. Screams filled the bathroom and Roman clamped it shut. 

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice called from the doorway.

Logan walked in, turning away red-faced when he saw Roman in the bathtub. “My question stands, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked embarrassed. “Umm, I got a tip that I should take a bath with the egg. Figured we didn’t have many other ideas, so...” Roman trailed off, equally red. 

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning back towards Roman, “did you try putting it in the water?” he asked exasperatedly. “no” Roman admitted quietly, picking up the egg and dunking it in the water. 

He took a breath and screwed it open. There were no screams, Logan gestured at the tub, “go listen”. Roman plunged into the water. 

Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, An hour-long you'll have to look, To recover what we took

Roman came up gasping for air. “what did it say!” Logan asked excitedly sitting next to the tub. Once Roman had caught his breath he repeated what the egg had said. 

Logan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a see-dwelling creature… one that sings” he murmured. “Roman, do you know of any mermaid populations in the black lake” 

Roman nodded excitedly, “Logan you’re a genius” he exclaimed pulling himself out of the water and hugging Logan tightly. 

Logan flushed and pressed a kiss to Roman’s wet hair. “Thank you, but the work isn’t over yet,” he said, pulling away now soaking wet, “what does the second half mean and how are you going to be underwater for an hour?” he exclaimed thinking rapidly. Roman nodded, drying himself off and pulling back on his clothes. 

“Right, that may be a problem” he contemplated. “But a problem for future you and me. It’s late, we should go to bed” Logan shrugged, “you’re right, we should. May I walk you back?” 

And if Roman wasn’t there when Remus woke up, well, that’s none of your business. 

[whenisitenoughtrees]

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind. 

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly. 

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?” 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it. 

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina 

[airiervessel]

When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More with logince?

also combining this with an anon’s request of 57 and logince! // prompts are open! (list)

67. When one stops the kiss to whisper “i’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more 57. Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that they’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

Word Count: 2241 Pairing: Logince Content: high school au (i’m imagining them as juniors or seniors? so they’re both 17 or 18), childhood best friends, asexual logan, so much pining, healthy discussions of feelings

Logan and Roman are best friends. Logan always acts awkward around their friends who are couples, and he has an asexual pride patch on his favorite jacket, alongside the various NASA and other nerdy patches he has all over it -- many of which Roman helped him sew on. Once, a couple of years ago, during a sleepover when they were staying up late talking about everything, he told Roman that he didn’t think he could ever see himself in a committed relationship. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to do it.

Logan and Roman are best friends. Logan isn’t interested in dating. Neither of these facts stopped Roman from falling head over heels in love with him. 

He reminds himself every time he finds himself staring at Logan’s face, every time he realizes his heart is nearly beating out of his chest whenever Logan laughs. He pinches himself in the thigh when he feels Logan’s shoulder brush his, or when Logan’s hand passes over his as he reaches for a certain book or pen. He acts as normal as he can, flopping down dramatically onto the sofa next to Logan and throwing his legs over his lap like his stomach isn’t full of butterflies, and tries to ignore the way Logan’s fond eye roll and careful adjustment around Roman brings warmth to Roman’s cheeks. 

Everything Logan does makes Roman’s heart sing, and he wants nothing more than to confess his feelings because this is the one thing Logan doesn’t know about him, the one secret he’s ever kept from his best friend. 

They promised, once, at Logan’s ninth birthday party, never to keep secrets from each other again. Roman had helped Logan’s parents and brother plan a surprise party for him, and he had been so excited to see Logan’s face, to see his reaction when he walked in his house after school to find everyone gathered there, ready to celebrate with him. But Logan had been scared by the noise and the number of people and had run off to their treehouse in a panic, and Roman had followed him and helped calm him down from his first-ever panic attack. 

After, when Logan was sniffling into Roman’s shoulder, he asked Roman to always warn him about parties in the future. “I can act surprised,” he whispers, his voice thick from the tears. “But you know I need to prepare to spend time around a bunch of people.” 

Roman had pulled back and offered his pinky, his expression serious. “I promise to never keep a secret from you again, Logan,” he said, and Logan smiled and hooked their pinkies together. 

“I promise too,” he replied, his expression so trusting and open, even after Roman’s surprise had hurt him so much. 

Thinking about that exchange now makes Roman roll onto his back in his bed with a dramatic groan, covering his face with a pillow. Guilt burns in his stomach -- they’d promised never to keep secrets from each other, and here he is, two months after realizing he has romantic feelings for Logan, and he’s kept it to himself. He hasn’t told anyone, not his parents, not his other friends, not even his cat. The first person to learn important things about Roman has always been Logan, and it makes the guilt boiling in his gut even worse to think about sharing this secret with anyone besides his best friend. 

He rolls onto his side, tugging the pillow down off his face and frowning at his stuffed Winnie the Pooh on the other side of his bed. He has to tell Logan. He can’t keep going like this -- the guilt is already eating him up inside. It rises like bile along with the butterflies that appear every time he looks at Logan, the confession burning at the back of his throat before he clamps down and swallows it back. 

Roman is terrified of ruining what they have, of losing his best friend. But he can’t keep breaking their promise, either. 

---------

His resolution to confess to Logan turns out to be much easier said than done, as so many things are. He comes close several times over the next week, when they’re at lunch in their favorite spot in the courtyard, when they’re hanging out in Logan’s room studying, when they’re leaving math class and Logan laughs at something Roman says. Several times a day, the words burn his mouth, but his tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of his mouth, and his vocal chords feel as though they’re tied into knots in his throat, and he can never say it. 

It’s Friday evening, over a week after Roman’s decision to come clean about his feelings, and still he hasn’t done it. He and Logan are in his bedroom, Logan reading a chapter in their history textbook aloud as Roman works on his current cross-stitching project. He focuses on the needle in his hands, on poking it through the fabric over and over again, the mostly-mindless work with his hands and eyes helping him process the information Logan’s lovely voice is reading. 

Logan stops, apparently having come to the end of the section, and Roman smiles even as he doesn’t look away from his stitching. “Alexander the Great sounds pretty awesome,” he says. “He actually listened to his men when they said they were ready to go home. That’s a pretty good leader, if you ask me.”

Logan usually argues with him on points like this, usually brings up some horrible thing the person did or the stupid way they died to counter Roman’s point, but he’s silent this time. Roman knows he’s not entirely right, knows Logan must have some kind of argument to make, so he looks up, turning his head to look at his best friend, tilting his head to the side in concern. “What’s up, Sir Nerds-a-Lot? You don’t usually let me admire historical figures without bringing up their flaws. Is anything wrong?”

Logan opens his mouth, then closes it, his eyebrows furrowed. Roman lowers his stitching to the bed and turns to face him fully, really concerned now. It’s rare that Logan is at a complete loss for words, and Roman is already running through the events of the afternoon, trying to find something that could have upset Logan. 

“Specs? Are you-” he begins, but he’s cut off by a mouth on his -- by Logan’s mouth on his. Logan is kissing him.

Roman is so shocked he can’t even respond, his eyes wide open as his hands flutter uncertain over Logan’s shoulders. He can see one of Logan’s eyes squeezed shut, and just when Roman is about to melt into the kiss, Logan pulls away, already rambling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking, I-” but Roman cuts him off as well, taking Logan’s face gingerly in his hands and capturing his lips in another kiss. 

And oh, is it amazing. He always wondered if the books were exaggerating when they described fireworks, but it really is like fireworks are going off in his chest, like bright spots of color are dancing behind his eyelids, like he’s never done and will never do anything as wonderful and amazing as kiss Logan Sanders. Logan’s arms wrap around his neck, his hands wrapping into Roman’s hair, and he hums into the kiss, feeling Logan shudder in response. 

He finally pulls back slightly, though hardly puts any space between them, his lips still brushing Logan’s as he whispers into the small space between them. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now,” he breathes, and his stomach does a flip when Logan chuckles quietly in response. He presses another kiss to Logan’s lips, and the other returns it for a moment before pulling back, further this time, and stroking his hand through Roman’s hair as he meets his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you?” He asks, his expression open and so clearly happy that Roman has to look away, his eyes drifting to the side as something that feels suspiciously like shame crawls up his back, settling on his shoulders like a lead weight. 

Logan’s thumb traces back and forth over his cheekbone, though, and he brings one of his own hands up to cover Logan’s closing his eyes and smiling slightly at the sensation. “I thought….you have the ace pin. You told me that one time that you didn’t think you could ever be in a relationship. I thought you weren’t interested.” He turns his head slightly, pressing a feather-light kiss to Logan’s palm before opening his eyes, his lips still brushing Logan’s skin as he continues. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. I didn’t want to lose you.” 

Now it’s Logan’s turn to look away, looking sheepish. “When I said that….” he clears his throat, and Roman squeezes his shoulder where his free hand is resting on it. Logan looks back at him and smiles, seeming encouraged. “I didn’t mean that I did not want a relationship. I have, in fact, wanted one very badly for several years. With you, specifically.” 

Roman lets out a gasp at that, tightening his grip on Logan’s hand. “Lo…” he breathes, amazed that Logan’s felt that way about him for so long. 

(Then again, Logan has always been a genius, has always picked up on things faster than Roman, or anyone else, for that matter.)

Logan strokes his thumb over Roman’s cheekbone again, looking amazed that he’s being allowed to do it. “When I said that, I was actually speaking of my belief of my own inability to properly perform in a relationship. Being in a relationship with someone...it requires a great deal of emotional intelligence, which we both know that I do not possess. And…” he trails off again, looking away and pulling his hands away from Roman, who ardently wishes he would do anything but that. 

“And as you said, I am asexual. I would be….unable to. Perform. In that capacity. If we were to date.” Logan looks at his lap, clasping his hands together there and looking as if he’s about to cry. 

“Logan,” Roman chokes out, leaning forward and taking Logan’s face in his hands once again, tilting it up gently and stroking it with his thumbs as Logan just did for him. “Logan, I-” his voice breaks, and he leans his forehead against Logan’s, feeling the other’s hands resting lightly on his waist as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to sift through the roiling emotions in his chest. 

After a moment, he opens his eyes to meet Logan’s, one of his hands moving to brush his hair back, cradling his head as he leans back slightly, just enough so he doesn’t have to go cross-eyed to maintain eye contact. 

“I love you,” he says finally, his voice and heart barreling forward even as his mind struggles to catch up, as usual. “I love you just as you are, and all that you are. I would never-” his voice breaks again here, and he shakes his head, stroking Logan’s hair back again. “I would never make you do anything, anything, that you’re not comfortable with,” he finishes in a whisper. “I would love to be with you in any way that you’ll have me, whether it’s as a best friend, or a boyfriend, or a partner, or...or if you want to--to never see me again, that’s okay too,” his voice cracks once again, and this time tears spill out of his eyes and down his cheeks. 

Logan’s hands fly up to wipe them away, and his head is already shaking in Roman’s gentle grip. “No, no, no, I--of course I want to see you again, you idiot, you’re my...you’re my Roman.”

Roman can’t help but laugh wetly at that, and Logan surges up to kiss him again, and they fall silent for a few moments. When they pull back, Logan resumes wiping at Roman’s face, his expression soft. “I love you too,” he whispers. “And I’m yours. In any way you’ll have me.” 

Roman laughs and kisses him again, pecking him three, four, five times on the lips, then all over his face, drawing giggles out of Logan as Roman moved down to blow a raspberry on his neck. 

Later, they’ll order a pizza for dinner, and sit on Roman’s bed eating it and talking about everything they’ve always talked about, and everything they’ve never talked about. They’ll discuss their own boundaries, and who they want to tell about the relationship, and who’s going to plan their first date. Roman will joke about celebrating anniversaries weekly, and will immediately resolve to do it when he sees how the idea makes Logan blush. 

Later, Roman’s parents will come home and find Logan there much later than usual, and they’ll see how the two of them smile at each other and know that they finally worked things out. 

Later, they’ll fall asleep with Big Hero 6 playing in the background, snuggled close together under Roman’s comforter. 

But that’s all for later. For now they laugh, and kiss, and tickle each other, and bask in the glow of the new step of their relationship. 

Logan and Roman are best friends. They both spent a long time believing their feelings for each other are unrequited, that saying something would ruin their relationship forever. They were both wrong.

[hopelessly-aro]

Council for the Prosecution

Soulmate September Day 14: the first words you hear your soulmate say are written on your wrist

Pairing: logince

Tags: college au, fluff, first kiss, debate club, basically love at first sight

Words: 2470

Summary: the words kept going, lines and lines, travelling down his forearm, past the crook of his elbow and all the way up to his t-shirt sleeve. The first words he would hear his soulmate say, and it looked like an entire speech.

Notes: descriptions are heavily based on my own time in debate club. Also it says college au but any fellow brits out there feel free to imagine this as a-levels rather then uni cause that's actually what this is based on.

Warnings: none that I can think of

AO3

Roman stared at his wrist, counting down the seconds to midnight out loud. The moment he turned seven years old, the first words he would hear his soulmate say to him would appear written on his skin, so he would know who they were when they met. He couldn’t wait to see what they would say, what sort of person they might be, how their first interaction might go.

Only one minute to go! It was getting close!

Then only thirty seconds, then twenty, then ten, then 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

The clock hit midnight and words started to appear on Roman's wrist and he nearly shrieked in excitement. It was a very small, neat, precise handwriting, in navy blue ink.

Throughout their statements, the proposition have consistently tried to twist this debate...

The words kept going, lines and lines, travelling down Roman's arm, crammed together as if trying to fit as much as possible. They were halfway down his forearm when Roman started getting worried, then past the crook of his elbow, not slowing down for the world. It wasn't until he was having to push up the short sleeve of his t-shirt to keep reading that the writing slowed and stopped.

...our greatest defence.

He read the words over and over again, most of which he barely understood. Why did his soulmate talk so much? Roman muttered the words out loud, timing himself. It came to three minutes. Was he supposed to meet his soulmate while they were giving a speech?

That sounded boring. But maybe when he met them it wouldn't be so bad? Roman just hoped his soulmate wouldn't be as dull as their first words.

-----

The lecture theatre was noisy and crowded, and the only seats available were right near the top. Roman didn't think he would be able to hear the debate at all from so high up, but it was too late to leave now, people would judge him.

He hadn't really wanted to come to debate club, and didn't suspect he would stay past the first week, but it was the first one of the term and Roman thought he might as well give it a try. Best case scenario, he really enjoyed himself and gave actually debating a go and found he loved it, worst case scenario Roman wasted an hour sitting there listening to stuck-up people talk about subjects they knew nothing about and then never came back.

As yet more students trickled in, Roman surveyed the "stage" area. In the middle were some tables in a row, and five students sitting in a line behind them facing the audience. The girl in the middle had what looked like a small wooden hammer that she was experimentally tapping on the table. The pairs either side of her were looking at pieces of paper, muttering amongst themselves, and occasionally looking over at the other pair. For the prelude to a verbal battle of wits and knowledge (or competition to see who knew the most big words), it was surprisingly relaxed. The five students seemed mostly to be joking and laughing while they pretend to size each other up.

Roman found his eyes being drawn more and more to the guy on the far right hand side of the long table. He was wearing a polo shirt and tie for some reason, and glasses that made him look simultaneously nerdy and also very attractive. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he was scribbling away furiously on his piece of paper, crossing things out and re-writing them. Roman wasn't sure why he looked like he was taking this so seriously when no-one else was, but it did mean he was all the more intrigued to hear what he had to say.

It didn't seem Roman would have to wait very long though for the supervising professor stood up at the front of the stage and seemed to be trying to get everyone to quieten down. When they realised it was in vain, the girl with the small hammer suddenly banged it on the table a few times. 

Everyone shut up.

"Right, thank you for that. Ok, welcome everyone to our first formal debate of the year!" The professor started saying something about debate styles and that this time the students would only be doing one statement each and there would be no questions, as opposed to the normal system that sounded very convoluted.

They were shown a video beforehand - some patronising thing of adults saying "the youth" needed to "stop being generation snowflake" and "argue their points on the facts, and win". Roman found himself mildly offended, which was ironic given the use of the term snowflake.

Anyway, finally it was time for the actual debate to begin. The professor turned onto a presentation and displayed the debate topic for that day, the motion.

‘This house believes that public libraries should be defunded.’

Roman almost gasped in shock at the suggestion. Why was this even a discussion? Public libraries were wonderful things, even if he hardly used them, they shouldn't be gotten rid of! After a second of trying to control his affronted noises he remembered the professor had said that these arguments were not ones they were seriously considering, and people often debated opinions they didn't actually agree with. Something to do with the skill of debate, not the topics.

A guy in a full on suit, at the left hand end of the table, stood, glanced at the girl in the middle who was apparently the "chair", and launched into his speech. He started by repeating the "motion" and then began some grandiose, rambling thing, that Roman had a hard time concentrating on. He glanced around the lecture hall and saw several others with similar confusion, so at least he wasn't the only one. In general though, the speech did sound like the guy knew what he was talking about, so maybe Roman was just being an idiot.

By the time the man sat down, Roman wasn't really sure of much except that the person was the most pompous and patronising individual he had ever seen. He wondered if he really did agree with defunding public libraries.

Next, the person on the chair's left hand side stood. They started with something that certainly sounded like a rebuttal to the first argument, but it soon became rambly and disorganised and Roman couldn't really hear what they were saying anyway because they were staring at their paper the whole time.

If he was supposed to vote based on quality of debate, then the first team seemed to be winning. Roman noticed, as the person sat down, that the guy next to them - one one in glasses and tie - gave them a tight smile and small nod that was probably supposed to be reassuring.

The girl to the right of the chair then stood and began her statement. It was a very organised and regimented thing that didn't seem to flow very well. Roman could have given her several pointers on delivery, but he suspected the main problem was the actual content of the speech. It was alright, and Roman at least was able to understand what she was on about, but at that point he was really feeling rather underwhelmed about the whole thing.

Then the nerdy-looking guy on the right hand end stood up and Roman found himself leaning forward in his seat in interest. He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, pushed his glasses further up his nose, rustled his papers a little, gripped the desk with his hands, cleared his throat again, and then looked up to the audience.

There was a pause.

He opened his mouth to speak and Roman's heart took a rapid dive downwards before quickly changing course and shooting through the roof.

"Throughout their statements, the proposition has consistently tried to twist this debate into a focus on economic value, and have presented to you, as fact, the opinion that knowledge should somehow be eared. They have argued that purely because public libraries do not produce money, the invaluable services they provided should be curtailed.

"But should profit be prioritised over such a basic human right as freedom to learn?...Never."

They were words that Roman had spent countless nights reading and re-reading until he knew them off by heart. The words that sounded so dull and pompous and needlessly verbose when written on his skin, but now flowed like poetry from this man.

His soulmate barely glanced at his paper as he spoke, eyes roving around the room and focusing on each person in turn. When, for only half a second, those electric eyes landed on Roman's own he forgot how to breath.

As his soulmate spoke, he became more and more animated, laying out his points clearly, elaborating on them and explaining them in a way that Roman found he could understand completely. His eyes were alight, hands gesturing through the air as he spoke, sweeping Roman up in his words, in the smooth baritone of his voice, in the calm sincerity of his expression.

Roman knew he would never tire of listening to this man speak, of getting lost in those eyes, the perfect cut of his jaw, the warmth of those arms. He had never been more gay.

It was with a sinking feeling that Roman realised the speech was coming to an end.

"The proposition have repeatedly stated the opinion that knowledge is somehow unimportant...that reading is obsolete...that the combined benefits of public libraries, the sum of which cannot be replicated with any other resource, is unnecessary to how we live our lives. That what you don't know cant hurt you."

He paused, gazed seeming to bore into every crevice of the room.

"This is a categorical falsehood."

Roman's heart rate picked up, his favourite part was coming.

"Knowledge is an incomparably valuable multi-purpose tool that is instrumental in identifying and solving any problem. If you're worried about getting hurt, seek knowledge. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defence."

The room erupted into applause. The man slowly sat down, hands shaking ever so slightly, and Roman was filled with pure elation.

He had never thought, in all the years of reading those words, that they could ever sound so profound, but the way that man had spoken them into existence...Roman suddenly felt as though he could do anything.

And right now, he wanted to meet his soulmate.

He went though the motions of voting (raise a hand for the team you feel debated best) in a daze. His soulmates' team won by a storm and the elation in Roman's chest only swelled more when he saw the nerd's cheeks flush and him duck his head to hide his grin.

But when the people started to get up to leave, Roman couldn't get out of the row of seats. It was too narrow and full of people, and he was right in the middle. He was practically vibrating with anticipation as he inched his way towards the isle and was hurrying down the stairs the moment he was free.

His soulmate was standing by the table, collecting his papers. A few people paused by him to say some congratulatory words on his debate but they did not stay long, and none of them spoke with the enthusiasm that Roman felt he deserved. From the few snatches of conversation Roman overheard as he made his way over, he gather that it was the first time his soulmate, apparently a second year, had debated in front of a crowd. Oh, and his name was Logan.

He found himself standing in front of Logan far too quickly, without anything witty or charming to say. His soulmate turned to him with beautifully flushed cheeks, and eyes that sparkled behind his glasses.

"Er...yes?" He said, with that wonderfully smooth voice.

Roman couldn't think straight (he never did, but this was worse than normal). "Hi..." he sighed, in a voice that sounded far too dreamy, "I just wanted to say that was the most amazing and inspiring thing I've ever heard, I could listen to you talk all day..." he broke off with another sigh, his brain too addled with the sight of his soulmate, who from up close was even more ridiculously handsome, in a nerdy sort of way.

Logan tensed, eyes widening and arms falling to his sides. There was just long enough of a silence for Roman to worry he'd said something wrong then suddenly Logan's expression turned determined.

"Follow me." He said, turning on his heel and walking towards a side door that led outside, Roman on his heels slowly regaining some of his brain's functions.

Outside, they were immediately under some trees, in a tiny sheltered courtyard. Logan didn't stop walking until they were completely out of sight of the door. Then he turned back to Roman.

"Do you mean it?"

"I-pardon?"

"Did you mean what you said to me? You weren't just saying it because you had realised we are soulmates?"

"Oh of course I meant it!" Roman grinned at Logan, standing up straighter and tossing his hair out of his face a little. "You are incredible! Your argument was so well thought out and you clearly have a talent for public speaking. You had the audience enthralled! Not to mention your voice is just heavenly! I meant what I said: I would listen to you talk all day, it wouldn’t matter what about, and I'm sure I'd understand it too because that's just how incredible you are."

Roman realised that Logan had moved closer to him while he was speaking and was now looking right into his eyes with so much intensity Roman thought he might combust. "Whether or not you were my soulmate," he breathed, not wanting to break whatever spell seemed to have overcome the two of them, "I would have still thought that...not to mention how hot, and how beautiful, you are..."

He trailed off when Logan's eyes flicked down to his lips and back again to his eyes, unsure. They moved forward at the same time, closing the last of the gap between them as they kissed. Roman melted under Logan's hands, wrapping his arms around his soulmates neck and kissing him as if his life depended on it, Logan responding just as fiercely.

When they finally broke for air, they barely moved apart, just rested their foreheads together and held on tight.

"I must be the luckiest man in the world to have you as my soulmate." Roman whispered into his soulmate's lips.

"Second luckiest," Logan murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips and smiling softly, "after me."

~~*~~

Gdi I loved writing the romance in this, I'm just really happy now. Thanks for reading, I hope you like it too!

@tsshipmonth2020

[starlocked01]

I Know the Stars Will Start to Fade

AO3 @tsshipmonth2020

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary-  Roman was born with three soul marks but now has only one. He doesn't want to ruin his last great chance for happiness but finds his final soulmate, Logan, isn't what he expected. And neither is he what he expected of himself.

Day 10 LAMP (Platonic Logince focused, Romantic Moxiety)- Soulmates are born with matching soul marks

Roman was starting to feel desperate. He had been born with three different soul marks but now was left with one. He really couldn't blame Patton or Virgil for getting upset with him. Somehow this was his fault.

The soul marks had been beautiful. Three shields with different intricate patterns inside. One had a castle overshadowed by a storm cloud. That one had matched Virgil’s. One had a heart floating in a broiling sea. That one had matched with Patton's. The last showed a brain at the foot of the mountains with a field of stars above. He hoped whoever this brain matched to would be the one who lasted and stuck around.

He'd met Virgil on an online forum for people with multiple soul marks. They hadn't talked much but Virgil went by st0rmcl0ud online and had described a soul mark that sounded remarkably similar to Roman’s. So he reached out in DMs and they swapped photos of their marks and then phone numbers and at Roman's insistence planned to meet up. He was already head over heels for his soulmate and giddy with excitement to meet Virgil in real life. Virgil and Patton had found each other through a dating app. Virgil recognized the heart shield as matching one of Patton's marks and had introduced the two of them as well.

For the first month, it was wonderful. Roman had never been so enamored, so certain of a future together with these two. It felt wonderful and nerve-wracking and exciting and passionate and everything the fairy tales had promised love would be.

They went on dates and got to know each other better. Roman went from infatuated to admiring his soulmates. He still put forth the full effort to love them but his heart wasn't behind it the way it should have been.

The stormy castle started to fade. He loved- no- cared for his two soulmates deeply. But the mark started to fade. Roman’s grand romantic vision of the future started to settle into something more friendly and domestic. He hid his soul marks, not wanting to upset either of them.

The stormy castle faded completely and the heart in the ocean was beginning to dull in color as well. Roman loved going on dates because it made his friends happy, but he felt no happier than if they had a quiet movie night at home together or spent the night video calling each other.

Roman had been frustrated, because Virgil and Patton were still head over heels for each other, in their own ways of course. Why didn't he feel that romantic spark that had pulled them all together?

One day, the heart in the ocean faded completely. Roman was terrified to tell his soulmates that the marks were gone. He was even more frightened by the realization that he didn't really love them the way they loved him and each other. He absolutely cared for Patton and Virgil with his whole heart, but the romantic vision was gone. He wanted them in his life but the idea of dating twisted his gut in the most unpleasant way.

Virgil noticed first. Roman didn't think it was possible to see the man any paler than his normal complexion.

"You lied to us…"

"No, they disappeared. They were there. They were real!"

"How do you expect me to believe that, Roman," Virgil's eyes were clouded with fear and pain. Roman couldn’t meet his gaze any longer and looked away.

"Why would you-"

"I don't know! I- you're my soulmate, Virgil… I don't know why our mark disappeared."

Virgil shook his head and pulled out his phone, dialing from memory.

If Virgil's anger had been difficult, Patton's disappointment was worse. His sad eyes bore into Roman’s soul and he couldn't even soften the blow by blaming Roman.

"Roman, do you not want us?" Roman's heart crumbled at the question.

"Patton, of course, I-"

"He was never our soulmate, Pat! I don't know how but he lied to us," Virgil hissed, pulling Patton back away from Roman.

"Guys, please listen to me," Roman was on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, Virge. I'm sure there's an explanation here that we aren't seeing. Roman, you still love us, right?"

Roman couldn’t help it. He balked and that sealed his fate. The moment Patton's heart broke was embedded in his memory, unlike the disappearing soul marks.

That was a week ago. And here he was, riding the bus to rehearsal as though his emotions weren't in shambles, one chance left to find happiness.

"Excuse me, sir? May I see your soul mark?" Roman turned to the unfamiliar voice and saw the hottest man he'd ever met giving him a difficult to decipher look.

Roman already had names picked out for the dogs they would adopt together.

"Ah, sure," Roman held out his arm and the stranger leaned down to inspect it. After a moment he pulled the sleeve of his jacket up and held up an arm with three familiar marks up to Roman's, "it's you! The brain…"

The stranger cleared his throat and pushed his sleeve back down, "yes. It appears we are soulmates. My name is Logan Crawford. What is yours?"

"Roman Prince," Roman replied breathlessly. He felt like he was on cloud nine and had his final chance.

"Well, Roman, I suppose you'll want to be in contact. Although, I must warn you that I am a disappointing soulmate and refuse date," Logan had pulled out his phone and was handing it to Roman.

"What do you mean 'disappointing'?" Roman frowned more in confusion than any negative feeling for Logan.

"I suppose you'll find out anyway. I am romance-repulsed. Even as one of my soulmates I won't date you or the others. Most everyone tells me that I will be a disappointment for you three but frankly, I know my boundaries and refuse to change them."

Roman stared at his final soulmate. He hadn't expected this. He took the offered phone and plugged in his number, taking a quick selfie for the contact photo.

"Well then, Logan, let's agree to just talk. Have you met Patton or Virgil?" Roman was met with an indifferent look that lacked any recognition.

"No, I have not. Have you?"

"Yes and I don't think you'd like them…" Roman said bitterly.

"Do you think I dislike you, Roman?" Logan said with the most emotion Roman had heard from him yet.

"No, I didn't mean that," Roman stammered, "I- I just meant that they're… very romantic. And I thought I had 'hopeless romantic' cornered!" Roman laughed to hide his discomfort.

"Wait, but you only had one soul mark. How did you meet them?" Logan asked with curiosity.

"My stop is coming up, perhaps we save the tragic backstory for another time?" Roman grinned as the bus rolled to a stop a block from the theater, "call me!" He rushed off the bus before Logan could respond, bewildered by the chance meeting with the handsome stranger.

Over the next few weeks, Roman and Logan texted and met up for coffee a few times. Roman was terrified of pushing things too fast and watched the soul mark on his arm constantly for any sign that it was fading. Logan never asked about the other two soulmates so Roman decided to not talk about them. He was still hurt but they had to be happier without him.

"So, Roman, you never told me the tragic story of how you met Patton and Virgil," Roman nearly spit out his tea.

"Do you really want to know, dear?" Logan bristled at the nickname but nodded.

"Well," Roman recounted the events of how they met and started seeing each other almost casually. He slowed down as he got to the part where the soul marks started fading. Logan encouraged him to continue but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

"Roman, did they hurt you?"

Roman shook his head no, not meeting Logan’s eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Logan asked gently, resting his hand on Roman’s across the cafe table. Roman felt a metaphorical shock at the physical contact. He wanted a romantic connection with Logan so badly sometimes that the other’s staunch refusal to date felt like an arrow to the heart.

"My soul marks disappeared," Roman whispered, "and I couldn't promise them I was still in love, so they left."

"Disappeared? How unusual. Did they match before disappearing?" Roman looked up, surprised by the reaction. Logan just opened a new tab on his laptop and started searching a few keywords, "what? You know I don't care for sentiment. But soul marks that aren't permanent is a fascinating concept. And you say you fell out of love when the marks disappeared? Was it sudden overnight?"

"N-no… actually the marks- and the feelings- faded over time. About a week, really," Roman sighed, "actually, Logan I need to confess-" Roman pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his last soul mark, "-yours started fading a few days ago. The colors aren't as saturated as before."

Logan looked down at the mark, "and how do you feel about me? Regardless of my stance on the matter."

Roman sucked in a long breath, "I…. Honestly, I've been in love with you from that day on the bus. But I respect your boundaries and I wasn’t going to push it and as we have been talking and getting to know each other, I really value you as a friend as well. I'm still a little hopelessly over the moon about you but it's not like when we first met."

"Fascinating, it seems the intensity of your soul mark is directly proportionate to your capacity for romantic attraction. One moment," Logan turned back to the laptop and after a moment turned the screen to face Roman, "does this sound like you?"

The word and definition almost popped off the screen at Roman. Frayromantic - an aromantic spectrum identity where one feels an intense romantic attraction to strangers that fades as they get to know the person

"Yes…" Roman took a sip of tea to try and calm his swirling thoughts.

Logan turned the laptop back around and did another search. He read for a moment before reading aloud from the screen, "other frayromantics have experienced fading soul marks. Some say that the marks came back after they realized and recognized their identity or came to terms with their soulmate about it. Others never had the marks come back naturally but rather decided to get them recreated. Or they decided they didn't want the marks and carried on markless, with or without their soulmate."

"So I'm not broken, it's happened before? The marks could come back? It's not wrong to not love my soulmates romantically?" The questions spilled from Roman’s mouth before he could stop them.

"I'd actually prefer if you would hurry up and get over your crush on me, thanks," Logan said with a smirk.

Roman held back a snort of laughter. He was feeling immeasurably better.

Roman was glad he had kept Patton's phone number. After discussing it with Logan, he decided to reach back out, hoping Patton would be understanding and could encourage Virgil to be as well.

The phone rang and rang. Roman started to sweat. Logan was preoccupied with personal research but he offered a comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman was glad for his friend's support, the soul mark a faint but distinct outline anymore. It had never fully disappeared even as Roman’s crush had evaporated.

Roman was ready to give up when the line connected, "Roman?"

"Patton! Oh, thank the stars you picked up. Do you have time to talk? If not now, maybe we can meet up?" Roman grinned happily.

"Why? I thought we weren't… " Patton trailed off.

"Pat, two things. One, I figured out why the soul marks faded. Two, I found Logan. We can all know each other and work things out because despite what Virgil said, we are soulmates," Roman waited with bated breath for the response.

"Hold on a second- Virgil!" Patton pulled the phone away from his mouth as he called out. Logan squeezed Roman’s shoulder to comfort him.

"Yeah, Pops? What's up?" From what Roman could hear it sounded like Virgil had just woken up, at 3 in the afternoon. What followed was a muffled conversation from which Roman could only pick out a few words.

"Okay, Roman. Can you and Logan meet us for dinner tonight?" Patton asked brightly.

"Logan, how does dinner tonight sound?" Roman grinned as Logan nodded, "sounds great, Pat. Where do you want to meet?"

"You two should come on over here about 7, alright? Awesome, see you soon!" Patton ended the call, mind already bustling with plans to get ready for dinner.

"Roman, please don't try to speak for me tonight," Logan smiled nervously as Roman parked the car.

"Of course not. I know you can handle yourself," Roman replied.

"Yes, I just worry that you're going to try too hard to be what Patton and Virgil want, not who you are. I like you and respect you for who you are and they will too if they're smart. But in the all too likely case that you can't help trying to be a people pleaser, at least let me establish my own boundaries."

Roman gasped, "do you have so little faith in me?"

"Yes," Logan grinned and stepped out of the car. Roman started chuckling and both were smiling as the front door of the apartment duplex opened.

"Roman. And I guess that makes you Logan. Come on in, I guess," Virgil was as dour as ever as he showed them to the living room, "Patton says dinner should be ready in a few minutes so make yourselves at home."

"Virgil, it's so good to see you! I've missed your pale, crabby face," Roman grinned although Virgil did not seem amused.

Logan held out his hand, "it's nice to meet you, Virgil."

Virgil stared at the offered hand and poked it with his finger, "Nice to meet you too, Logan."

"Are they here? V, why didn't you tell me?" Patton came bustling from the kitchen and immediately wrapped Roman in a tight hug, "oh it's been too long! How ya doing, Prince?"

Roman grinned and hugged Patton back, "better now, that's for sure."

"Ah, and you must be Logan, come on in buddy!" Patton turned to offer Logan a hug.

"No, thank you. I'd rather not," Logan tried to wave Patton off.

"You sure?" Logan nodded, "Okay, dinner is almost done and we've got so much to talk about!"

Roman helped Virgil set the table while Logan followed Patton into the kitchen to help with the final preparations.

The conversation was light as they ate until Virgil asked the question no one else was bringing up.

"So Princey, why did the soul marks disappear?"

Roman took a deep breath. He could feel Logan’s hand on his knee under the table and was grateful for his soulmate’s support once again. "Virgil, Patton, I have discovered that I am frayromantic. I know that word doesn't make sense, but hear me out," he proceeded to explain, talking about how he had truly loved them when they met, and still wanted to care about them now. He even showed them the faded soul mark that matched Logan’s, explaining that it never faded completely because they had come to an understanding with each other about their relationship. He didn't bring up that the soul marks could come back, not wanting to give them undue hope or misguided ideas about his emotions. By the time he was done explaining, Patton was smiling with tears in his eyes and Virgil was nodding.

"Mark or not, I still want you in my life," Patton sniffed and reached across the table to take Roman’s hand, "we can work out the particulars later."

"Ah, Roman, I'm sorry. I was wrong to accuse you and I can't imagine how much that must have hurt you," Virgil spoke just above a whisper.

Roman nodded, "thank you, Virgil. I'll consider forgiving you."

"That's fair-"

"Consider it done!"

"Oh- kay thank you," Virgil chuckled.

"So Logan, why is tonight the first time we're meeting you?" Patton smiled at the stoic man.

"Simply put, I wasn’t seeking out my soulmates. I happened upon Roman by chance. I want to make it clear that I am not interested in dating any of you," Logan spoke with confidence. Roman was proud of him, returning the comforting hand on his knee gesture.

"Wait you two aren't dating?" Patton asked, confused.

"No. We are not dating. I am aromantic and romance-repulsed. I want nothing to do with mushy, complicated romantic emotions. However, and I hope Roman doesn't mind me saying this, I do consider him my best friend," Logan coughed, "and I actually wanted to talk with you later about a platonic partnership," Roman was surprised to hear this but more surprised by the blush on Logan's cheeks.

"Yeah, we can talk about that later, Lo. I definitely think you're my best friend as well."

"Wow, so… being soulmates isn't going to be easy for any of us," Virgil murmured.

"But we'll all work it out together!" Patton finished the sentiment, clasping his boyfriend's hand in his and smiling at the two soulmates across the table.

The soul marks that had faded completely never came back on their own. After a few years together, Roman decided to get them tattooed back on, asking the artist to match the intensity to Logan’s mark. The three faint marks helped reassure Roman that he was who he was and that he didn't need to change that to love his soulmates just as much as he could.

[nonbinaryemonugget]

Good Kid: Part 2- Roman

I wasn’t planning to do a squeal, but this was all my brain would let me think about for awhile and than my ADHD hyperfixated so..  *le shrug*

Part 2 to this

Summary: Roman just wants to give this kid another chance.

One more chance is all Virgil needs.

Ships: Pre-Established Romantic Anxceitmus, Pre-Established Romantic Logince

Characters: Virgil, Remus, Janus, Roman, Logan, Some  OCs.

Warnings: Foster care/homes, bullying, fight mention, self-deprecation,  implied neglect/abuse/emotional abuse maybe? Transphobia. Homophobia, Polyphobia? Is that a thing? She doesn’t like that they’re poly, if you catch my drift.  If you find any more please tell me.

Listen I added a ton of Virgil angst bc I was bored so I you think the characters are in fact, out of character: You’re probably right, congrats, I don’t care. ALSO I did not research foster care/homes at all because my brain decided not to vibe with the info.

“Virgil, hun, someone wants to see you.” Miss Walker, Ms. Turner’s assistant, gave a shy knock before opening the door. At least she listened to his comments about not be called by his last name.

“Me, specifically?” He raised his head from it’s place on Remus’s lap, where he had been scrolling through Tumblr. Remus’s hands fell from Virgil’s hair, and Janus looked up from where he had been rubbing circles on Virgil’s hand.

“W-Well, he specified he wanted to see our most... ah how did he word it-? Right! ‘Any and all kids who have run out of hope! They need it back, and my quest is to give it to them!’“ She added a flourish of her arms, grinning at Virgil. “He’s rather... excited.”

“Excited? To see me?” Virgil snorted, looking at the torn up remains of his folder in the trash, “I doubt it.”

“Quest?” Remus piped up, “What is he, a knight?”

“His name is Roman Prince-Berry, and he really does want to see you. Ms. Turner’s out today, she left after she returned you Virgil, and it would be lovely if I could have an easy day for once.” Miss Walker looked at him, trying to be stern and lovably failing. 

Virgil raised a brow, sighing. Miss Walker was so much nicer than Ms. T. Sure Ms. T was nice, and she wasn’t homophobic, which was always a plus, but she was a bit wary of polyamorous partners, and often kicked Janus out of  Remus and Virgil’s shared bedroom. Miss Walker, on the other hand, was very accepting.

She also believed there was hope for Virgil.

He disagreed. 

“Go tell Mr. Princey I won’t see him without my boyfriends. I’m not going back to another homophobic or polyphobic or whatever household.” Virgil grabbed Janus’s hand and set his head back in Remus’s lap. 

He heard the sound of Miss Walker leaving, and let out a soft hum as Remus ran a hand through his hair. “You aren’t exactly making it easy for her, Spiderbite.” 

“I agreed to come at least. Besides, what are the odds he actually wants me?” Virgil scoffed, and Janus pressed a small kiss to his hand.

“He’d be lucky to have the opportunity to raise you, darling.” Janus mumbles, and Virgil lets out at little laugh at the absolutely true sincerity in his voice.  

“We’re being serious, Jumping Spider!” Remus sat up suddenly, hitting his head on the bottom bunk. He rubs his head.

“I know. I just can’t imagine anyone thinking that way.” Virgil admits.

Almost as if summoned by his self-deprecating, Miss Walker comes in, followed by a man who must be Roman Prince-Berry. Virgil’s hand instinctively went up to fiddle with one of his ear piercings. His earrings themselves had been taken out (”Impressions, Virgil!” Ms. T would chime every time she caught him wearing them.) but he still fidgeted nervously with the pierced hole. 

Miss Walker gave Virgil an encouraging smile before quickly leaving at the sound of one of the younger kid’s cries. Virgil sits up, eyeing Roman suspiciously. 

Roman had been planning a, rather loud, declaration of caring and hope for the young boy, but he could already see it wasn’t going to work for this Virgil Ann Storm. So instead he took a seat on the carpeted floor, setting the (newly printed) copy of Virgil’s file beside. 

“Hello, my name is Roman Prince-Berry. It’s a pleasure to meet the three of you. What are your names?” The three boys glanced at one another. It was Virgil who spoke first.

“Isn’t that in the file?” He glanced at the thing before quickly looking away. Didn’t matter, Virgil was sure that guilt still flashed across his face. Whatever. Roman had wanted the most troubled, here he was. 

“Sure it is, but I think your story is better told by you than by the people who threw together every bit of paper dictating who you were.” Roman was smiling, not too wide, but enough to encourage Virgil. 

“I’m Virgil. These are my boyfriends, Janus and Remus.” They each waved at their name, but otherwise kept silent. They were here to support Virgil when he needed it, and he was doing okay right now. 

“And how old are you?”

“They’re both older than me. Both 17. I’m 16, but I skipped a grade a while back.” Both of Virgil’s boyfriends were holding his hands, but he was staring at Roman with interest, mirrored by the man. 

“Listen Virgil, you’re a good kid. I don’t believe anyone who tells me otherwise, so I don’t want you to either. But I am going to read your file, okay? I’m going to read it aloud, and you can tell me about it, if you’re comfortable, or not. But my opinion isn’t going to change after I read this. You’re still a good kid.”

Roman hadn’t liked the anxious look that passed over Virgil’s face as he mentioned his file (The poor boy must hate what that awful file said.) but Virgil still nodded, biting his lip and tapping Janus’s hand in a repetitive pattern.

“Alright. It says here that your second fight was a year after you got put into the system? Are you comfortable telling me what happened?” Roman looked up at him, eyes flickering between Janus’s expression and Virgil’s eyes. 

“They were bullying Jan.” He whispered, staring down at his lap.

“And what a Night in Shining Amour you were!” Virgil had to do a double-take. Roman had not only called him a knight, but he had said it with something like... pride.

“How old were you Virgil? When you got put in the- when you met Janus?” 

“Eight.” 

Roman swallowed, trying to push down his anger. Not everyone could be as patient with children as him, he knew that. But Virgil was hurt. Defeated. Virgil was absolutely certain that he was nothing of worth. Roman planned to change Virgil’s mind.  “And when did you meet Remus?”

“I was ten.” 

“So you’ve been here longer than the two of them?”

Virgil nodded.

“Alright. Let’s see... for someone who is very smart, Virgil, who skipped a grade and passed all your tests with A’s... you seem to have dips in your grades. Here you got F’s for two weeks straight.” He looked up the boy, who’s hands wouldn’t sit still. He had removed them from his boyfriends’ grips and was now fidgeting with the end of his hoodie. “Do you feel comfortable explaining?”

Virgil nodded slowly, hesitating before he spoke. 

“I just... They were hurting a girl. Because she was trans. And when I stood up for her, they gave me a choice. Either they could find her everyday and I could keeping getting in trouble for fighting or...” 

“Or?” Roman stares up at Virgil, at the way he avoids Roman’s gaze, at the fidgets, and at the dejected look in his eyes. Virgil truly believed he was a hopeless case. Roman was certain his heart would break. 

“Or they would meet me behind the school and... beat me up. And then when they found out I was smart they’d dump their homework on me so that they’d start getting A’s. And I know that I shouldn’t have let them do that, but it was so much easier to just let them.” He stares at his hands, flexing them a couple times.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I understand. Listen you don’t have to keep talking to me if you don’t want to.” Roman looks up at Virgil, who won’t meet his eyes. He turns to Remus and Janus, who both are looking at him blankly. But, they aren’t glaring, which is nice. 

“No, it’s alright.” Virgil’s voice is quiet. “I just, didn’t really have time for my own work after that. So my grades started dipping.” Roman nodded, biting his lip and reading over the file. 

“Your first fight. Do you feel comfortable talking abou-”

“No.” Virgil cut him off, staring at Roman, an apologetic look in his eyes. “I don’t.” 

Roman nodded, “And that’s alright Virgil. I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything. Because it’s my job as a guardian to support you. Not bring you down because of your past.”

Virgil stares at Roman, before ducking his head down and looking away. “Thank you.” He whispers. Janus nodded slowly, grabbing Virgil’s hand. Remus ran a hand through Virgil’s hair, giving Roman a grateful look. 

Roman stared a the file for a second before setting it aside. “Listen Virgil. I really want to help. I won’t judge you based on your past. There.. are some things that we have to work on... Like fighting. I want you to understand that you can trust me. You don’t have to come with me at all. I just want to help.”

There was a silence, in which Virgil picked at his lips. He mind was bouncing between this and that and finally he asked. 

“Can I- Can I visit Jan and Rem?”

“Of course you can!”

“Then I’d like to go with you.”

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Sanders Sides Masterpost (6/16/2020)

(for mobile users)

You can also find all these works on my ao3, sociallyawkward_fics

As of right now, I am no longer writing Sanders Sides fanfiction. I am not sure if or when this will change.

---------------------------

When Words Fail - [ao3 only] -  Soulmates. Everyone has one. Virgil just happens to be a little... unique. So what will happen when he discovers he has not one, but three soulmates? || LAMP/CALM || 26,456 words

I Wish For This - [ao3] -  Virgil may have not wanted to make a big deal out of his birthday, it never went well, after all, but to have the other sides not acknowledge it hurt. Didn't they care? || Gen || 3,931 words

Safety first. What are you? FIVE? - [ao3] -  It was a quiet day in the mindscape... At least, it was, until a few baking mishaps. || Gen || 865 words

You’re not going to starve yourself on Thanksgiving - [ao3] -  Virgil just needs a day to himself to recharge. Why did that day have to fall on Thanksgiving, of all days? || Gen || 818 words

Show me what’s behind your back. - [ao3] -  Logan's boyfriends are hiding something and it's really starting to hurt. He really didn't expect what they were truly hiding from him. || LAMP/CALM || 730 words

He’s so cute when he’s asleep - [ao3] -  Patton is so glad to find Virgil asleep on the couch early that morning. Not only is his kiddo finally getting some rest, but he's so adorable while doing so! || Gen || 540 words

Welcome back. Now fucking help me. - [ao3] -  Roman has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle, and Virgil's laughing is not much help || Prinxiety || 504 words

Freeze Your Brain - [ao3] -  Virgil's been even more glum that usual the past few days. Not even Patton has been able to get him to open up. Perhaps Roman will be able to help him out? || Gen || 1085 words

Space - [ao3] -  Logan REALLY loves space. Luckily, his family loves hearing him talk about space, too. || Gen || 297 words

“Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” - [ao3] -  Patton hides his bad days behind a fake smile. Virgil sees right through his mask. || Moxiety || 521 words

“Hey, hey, calm down, they can’t hurt you anymore.” - [ao3] -  Virgil has a nightmare; luckily, his boyfriends are there to help bring him down from it. || LAMP/CALM || 646 words

Can I Have a Hug? - [ao3] -  Logan hasn’t seen his friends in nearly a week and his touch starvation is becoming nearly unbearable. He looks back on his history with Patton and how normalized touch became after they met. || Gen || 1723 words

“That’s how the story goes.” - [ao3] -  It's not like Roman didn't predict that Logan wouldn't be fond of his latest tale, he just didn't predict the conversation it would spark. Or the feelings it would reveal. || Logince || 1436 words

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” - [ao3] -  Roman is fine with occasionally coming home from work a bit bruised. No one ever notices, no one's ever up late enough to even see it. That's why he's so shocked when Virgil is awake and ready to help. But maybe, just maybe, this arrangement could work out? || Prinxiety || 2921 words

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” - [ao3] -  It was no secret that Virgil and Roman couldn't stand each other. At least, that's what their intense arguing would suggest. So of course, the universe laughs in their faces and declares them soulmates. || Prinxiety || 2190 words

Bad Reputation - [ao3 only] -  Virgil has some issues opening up. With his parents gone and him getting stuck with his awful stepfamily, it’s kind of a given. The only person he’s able to let his guard down around is his friend Logan, who’s developed some trust issues of his own. Then, his entire world changed, all thanks to a note telling him to stop bestowing the classes after him with his art on the desk. Keeping up with his image, he continues to draw on the desk, but he never expected the person leaving him notes to warm up to him. And he definitely didn’t expect to fall for the person on the other side. (FANDERS BIG BANG 2018 FIC) || Prinxiety, side Logicality || 30,719 words

“I’m not broken” - [ao3] -  All Logan had wanted to do was help Virgil with his anxiety. Granted, he probably should've gone about it in a different way. || Analogical || 2067 words

”I made a mistake.” - [ao3] -  Virgil isn't sleeping. Again. And his lack of sleep tends to lend itself to a rather overactive imagination. || Analogical || 379 words

”My head hurts.” - [ao3] -  Patton is too excited for his own good and ends up with a pretty cool headache. || Gen || 262 words

”Don’t pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”  - [ao3] -  Patton's been acting oddly the past few days, and his negative mood is taking a toll on his boyfriends. The issue is, he refuses to actually admit that anything is even wrong. || LAMP/CALM || 2565 words

”I’m not okay.”  - [ao3] -  Virgil has a little tradition when he has the apartment to himself. Turn his music on full blast, dance around, and sing. He's never let his roommates catch him. Well, until now. || Gen || 517 words

”I’m just tired.” - [ao3] -  Logan's been overworking himself and is at a breaking point. Luckily, he's not the only one up that late, and Roman is happy to help. || Logince || 1390 words

”Is that my shirt?” - [ao3] -  Virgil is a bit put-out when he can't find his favorite lazy-day shirt. Luckily, it seems that Roman knows where it is. || Prinxiety || 688 words

I Don’t Give a Damn About Your Reputation - [ao3 only] - ON HIATUS! -  While Virgil and Roman finally coming together wasn't easy, staying together will be even harder. There are too many odds stacked against them. Their reputations, their families, practically the entire school. Virgil just hopes his own cheesy romance story has a happy ending, too. || SEQUEL TO “BAD REPUTATION” || Prinxiety, side Logicality || 47,847 words

”Don’t look at me like that.” - [ao3] -  Roman's on a super secret mission. He cannot get caught under any circumstances. It is of the utmost importance that those cookies become his. || Gen || 624 words

”I believe in you.” - [ao3] -  Virgil is beyond nervous for his first day of high school, and yet somehow Roman is beyond excited. Luckily, Patton is there for him right when he needs him. || background Logicality || 836 words

”Don’t fall in love with me.” - [ao3] -  Virgil blames it all on that dumb school project. He never would've fallen if it hadn't been for that. Now he just had to hope Logan wouldn't notice that he was completely and utterly smitten. || Analogical || 2781 words

”I’d like to see you try.”  - [ao3] -  All Virgil wants to do is walk to the store for some shredded cheese. Roman, however, didn't think he could manage that himself. || Prinxiety || 764 words

Mistletoe Isn’t the Only Thing That Brought Them Together - [ao3] -  Virgil is wildly anxious about Patton's annual Christmas party after being told that he was planning to deck his whole apartment out in mistletoe. Not only has Virgil never kissed anyone before, but he's terrified that he's going to land under one of those infernal plants with his roommate and long-time crush, Logan. Logan, however, is equally anxious about going to the party with no kissing experience either and thinks he has a rather solid plan to help them both. Why not try practicing a bit before they had to do the real deal? || Analogical || 4242 words

”Why are you shaking?”  - [ao3] -  Logan has gone way too far overworking himself, this time. At least Virgil's around to make sure he takes care of himself. Or, more accurately, to take care of him for him. || Analogical || 566 words

Early Mornings and Warm Embraces - [ao3] -  There's nothing better than holding each other close and letting the day pass by without them. || Analogical || 279 words

”Come over here and make me.” - [ao3] -  Once again, Logan is overworking himself. At least he's doing it in a more accessible spot, instead of locking himself away. And at least Virgil seems to have worked out how to get him to take breaks from now on. || Analogical || 370 words

”Did you really just crack a smile for me?” - [ao3] -  Roman's plans are sometimes a little... out there. Logan, pining as he is and hanging off Roman's every word, is well aware of that fact by this point. Nonetheless, he always sticks around to see them through. || Logince || 1017 words

”You heard me. Take. It. Off.” - [ao3] -  Roman gives Logan a makeover. The reveal to the rest of their boyfriends goes far better than expected (and they had already expected it to go well). || LAMP/CALM || 776 words

”You didn’t have to go to such extremes.” - [ao3] -  It wasn't Roman's fault finals kept him busy, or that he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept. He was just luckily that Remy was there to catch him when he fell. || Creativisleep (Roman/Remy) || 574 words

Closed Doors - [ao3] -  Someday, Logan wouldn't have to drag Virgil into a back room just to give him a kiss. || Analogical || 466 words

Stormy Saturdays - [ao3] -  It's raining! It never rains. What else is Roman supposed to do but go frolic in it in the street? Logan's not as put-out about the whole situation as he pretends to be. || Logince || 1838 words

Let’s Get Away - [ao3] -  It started with slow dancing in the kitchen. Neither expected it to end with a double proposal on the tile floor. || Logicality || 1102 words

Seamless - [ao3] -  Patton basks in the lazy morning and thinks about how seamlessly the two of them fit together. || Logicality || 867 words

[megs-writing]

Ship: Logince (fluff) Starring Logan being a cute nerd and Roman joining his excitement for the stars.  Warnings: Not sleeping, | Characters- Logan, Roman Word count: 1097

The words on Logan’s computer screen started to blur in front of him. His notebook was covered with scribbled notes and doodles to match the essay he had been working on since 9:00- the time when most of the sides hid in their room and went to sleep. Logan usually stayed awake in his studies, researching whatever he was interested in at the time, and tonight it was stars. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine being there, floating in space and looking at the galaxy surrounding him. His pen clicked on the desk a few times trying to bring him back to reality. 

The time was growing closer to 1. Normally Logan would stay up until midnight with his work, but this night was different. Refusing to admit how tired he was he switched to another tab, looking at the articles he found to help him with his work. He planned to reach his goal of 1,000 words by tonight, and he planned to reach that goal if it meant going to bed at sunrise. That is if he could think straight enough to make sense of the words in his head and put them on paper. 

Sudden hands on his shoulders almost made him jump out of his seat. Once he gathered himself up again he turned to see Roman laughing at his reaction. Logan would have told him off if he could think of words to say. Instead, he started to block him out when Roman placed his hands on him again in the most playful way he could. 

“Bedtime was ten. What are you still doing up?” Logan tried to think of something to write so it would look like he was still busy. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Roman paused at his answer, trying to think of something to respond with. 

“...Not tired.” 

“Neither am I.” 

“Really?” Roman turned the chair so Logan would face him instead of the computer. It was hard to tell in the lighting but it wouldn’t take much to see the loss of sleep in his appearance. It wasn’t the first night Logan had stayed up until 2AM either. Thankfully we weren’t that far in the night and bedtime could still happen before then. Roman stared at him for a second before glancing behind him at his work, starting to get a new idea. “Alright. What are you working on?” 

“Astronomy.” Logan turned back to the computer to show Roman what he had been putting his time into for the past week. “Space in general. Just looking at the stars and galaxies and the planets makes you want to-... just look at it.” He switched tabs to a collection of pictures he had gathered in a presentation just to look at. Stars glittered in the mix of dark purple and blue gas that floated in space with the rest of the universe. He collected pictures of the planets, each with a different pattern of colors mixing in with each other. Logan’s face lit up trying to explain what he saw in the pictures. 

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal.” Logan paused to listen to whatever Roman was about to say. “I can show you those-” Roman gestured to the glittering picture in front of them. “But you gotta go to bed right after. So will I.” Logan stared at the picture, trying to imagine the world Roman was talking about. Sure the twins could make anything in the imagination, but Roman didn’t know anything about the stars. It didn’t seem like it at least. 

“You wanna take me to see the floating lights?” 

“Tangled. Nice. Never took you for a Disney fan.” Logan shook his head, staring back at the screen. 

“I don’t have time. I need to finish this.” 

“It’ll help.” Roman tried pushing a little more. “You ever wondered what stars would look like in person? Maybe if you want to think Logically I would say seeing the stars in person would help make your project more accurate. But if you wanna be not lame you could come because it’s fun. I saw how excited you were there.” Logan blushed thinking about how he smiled in front of Roman. 

“Just a few minutes, then we’ll come back, right?” 

“We have a deal?” Roman held his hand out in front of him for Logan to take. The moment their hands touched Roman pulled Logan out of his chair and led him out of his room and to the front of the imagination. In Roman’s room there was a pathway disguised as a closet that took anyone entering to a whole new world in the imagination. Usually the entrance was a forest with glittering trees and a bright blue sky with silver clouds- the default to Roman’s side. He could change it without entering, and altered the scene to something he thought Logan would love. He hoped, at least. He got this far. 

After a breath Roman walked though, taking Logan with him by the hand. 

The world around them changed into a long grassy field only lit with starlight. Dim stars surrounded them mixed in with red and purple stardust. Instantly Logan’s grip on Roman’s hand lightened. 

Logan raced over to the scene and held his hand up to the clouds taking in the warmth of the stars. Not scientifically accurate, obviously, since if they were actually in space they would be dead. But the imagination equivalent of seeing a tiny galaxy in person was just as amazing. Logan’s eyes reflected the swirling colors in excitement, before turning and looking at the millions of stars, all seeming to be in the right places according to his studies. Planets appeared up close blending in with the rest of the scene, which made Roman worry that he was starting to overdo it, but Logan’s smile grew brighter when he saw them. It seemed like you could reach out and touch Jupiter with your own hands. 

_ _ _ _ _

Logan rested his head on Roman’s chest, staring up at the galaxy above them. It was all silent except for the soft sound of breathing and the faint sound of Roman’s heartbeat. He was asleep but him laying there was all the company Logan needed. Roman was gentle, resting his hand on Logan’s chest. All that work Logan forgot about would have to wait now. Tomorrow they would go back and rejoin the sides in their everyday routine, but neither of them wanted to leave here. 

With the whole world silent, Logan started to drift asleep. 

Taglist: @winterrs-child @remusthedukeofdeodorant @thecatchat @stop-it-anxiety @znikitrash @awkwardandanxiousfander @nowletmeseeyourkezzhands @prox-xima @hela-daughter-of-loki @arcticfrostdoesthings @yalltookmyurlideas @id-rather-go-live-in-a-trash-can @soupgromlin

[ravens-rambling]

Christmas Miracle

A/N: Little bit late, but Merry Christmas! 

Prompt- Stuck in an airport on Christmas Eve

@sanderssidescelebrations

WC: 768

ships: Romantic Logince

warnings: Uh... I don’t think there's any here? 

Tag List: @punsterterry @stormcrawler75@frostedlover@mycatshuman @mutechild@panicattheeverywhere15@overlord-winter @analogical-mess@saddestlittlebabe

Logan wasn't a fan of these so-called, 'soulmates'. He never has ever since he was a kid. And he's probably the only person in the world who doesn't. How can he be the only person who doesn't like being told who his partner is going to be? How is everyone alright with the universe having control of who is going to be their partner until their deathbed?

Is he the only person who likes to have control of their own fate?

There are multiple reasons why having soulmates is annoying. But that's honestly the main one. He's been on a few dates with people who have given up on finding their soulmate. Only to break up with them a few weeks to months later.

It makes no sense to him. And he just wishes that maybe he won't be able to find his soulmate. He's perfectly fine with living alone, in all honesty.

And he thought that until one day.

He had traveled to Florida for a business meeting. Of course, it had to be the day before Christmas Eve. Which he didn't really mind, not like he had any family back home or anything. But the traffic and traveling will be a pain.

The meeting turned out okay, nothing too big happened. The next day came and he was waiting for his plane. Until it came on that it was canceled cause of heavy snow. And that there wasn't going to be another one until early tomorrow morning. Great...

It's too late to get a room, everything will be booked up and it's quite late. The plane would come in about five or so hours. He might as well stay.

Not the best situation but... it's all he's got. So he got up and moved to some other position to sleep at. Luckily he only brought one bag so it'll be easier to keep track of.

Just as he's laying down he felt a sudden wave of energy. His eyes widened and he looked down at his red string tied around his finger.

Ever since he was born he's had a red string tied around his finger, everyone does. And only the soulmates can see these strings, nobody else. The soulmates can feel whenever their soulmate is close by. Either by a wave of energy, then it starts to glow. Or at least that's what the books say.

And they were right.

He could feel that energy rising and his red string glowing and glowing. His soulmate is here and in this building.

His head raised from the bag that he used as a makeshift pillow and he looked around. That... No... He's dreaming... Or he's more tired then he thought he was... Why would his soulmate be here, in an airport of such places?!

He feels a tug on the string and looks down, it was facing the other way.

He turns, to see a darker-skinned younger man running down the hallway. He wore a black shirt with a red jacket. And blue jeans on. His hair was drifted towards one side of his face and bounced as he ran. His red eyes were glittering with happiness. And Logan's heart skipped a beat.

When Logan squinted he could see that this man had a dark blue string tied to his finger. And it was glowing too.

The man looked directly at Logan, their eyes meeting, then down at his finger. Only to suck in a breath at seeing the string there and pulsating. Then his eyes lifted back up, his cheeks were red and he had a look of awe and wonderment in his eyes.

"You..."

"You're my soulmate!!" This man screamed at the top of his lungs, making his voice echo through the long hallway, and he ran at Logan. His arms embracing the glasses-wearing man before he could say a word.

This man was laughing and shaking, obviously excited and happy that he's found him.

Logan... Logan didn't know what to feel.

His entire life he had thought soulmates were stupid, idiotic. But now that he has his soulmate here and in his arms.

Logan Berry doesn't make a lot of mistakes, he prides himself on making no mistakes, in fact.

However, this man can say that on this wonderful cold holiday.

He has made a mistake.

[virgilsinferno]

meet me in the middle || logince

chapter 2 — leave the window open for me

summary: the twins try to set up patton & virgil by hosting a sleepover. remus makes questionable life decisions. 

pairings: high key moxiety, dukeceit (if you squint) 

tw: mentions of hospitals & injuries

word count: 2987

[logan is not in this chapter but he is mentioned like once]

taglist: @dragonwithproblems​ @b0mblebee​

ao3 || 1 

♡

At the back of the shop, there’s a tiny storage room filled with boxes and a wall of post-it notes. It’s a cramped space, but the twins figured out a way to make it bearable. There’s a bookshelf, some fake plants, a few pictures, and of course, the whiteboard. The whiteboard was previously used for reminders, but bit by bit, they started filling it up with random doodles. 

They constantly tried to one-up each other with every new addition to the whiteboard. Who could draw the most accurate anatomy? Who was better at dynamic poses? There was always an unspoken competition between the two siblings. It was practically in their nature to be competitive. 

So far, Remus was winning but only because Roman’s usually the one at the counter while Remus took care of packages and inventory. Or at least that’s what Roman liked to tell himself. 

Working at his dad’s flower shop wasn’t too bad, in fact, Roman loved working there. During his first few months at the shop, he was obsessed with flower meanings. And making bouquets. What he didn’t expect though, was cleaning. He had somehow forgotten that he was working with plants, and working with plants got messy. Petals and leaves kept falling off, dirt got all over the floor, and children loved messing with everything they could touch. 

It’s been a busy day. Roman sat behind the counter, thinking that he’ll finally be able to relax after he finished trimming flowers and sweeping the floor. He was thankful that he only worked on Saturdays, otherwise, he’d have to stress about strangers’ wedding preparations as well. 

Speaking of weddings, he had to attend one in about 3 weeks. They weren’t in charge of the flowers so he didn’t have to stress about that, but he strongly disliked a certain cousin of his. He was not looking forward to it. He’s probably ranted about how much he hated this particular cousin to all his internet friends. 

“Boys, you two go on ahead, I’ll close up the shop!” their dad yelled from the storage room. The twins shared a look.

“Race ya!” Remus said as he dashed out of the shop. Roman quickly ran out after him, chasing him down the street. 

It was part of their post-work ritual. The racing, that is. After work, they would run to Espresso Feelings and whoever arrived last was paying. Sometimes Patton would be there and they’d talk about the latest gossip they’ve heard at school. 

The sky was getting dark and droplets of rain began to fall. It was only a matter of seconds before it would start pouring. Neither of the two brought an umbrella, but the coffee shop wasn’t too far away. A group of kids passed by, running and giggling with their arms stretched to the side, enjoying the breeze that came with the drizzle. They reminded Roman of him and his brother when they were much younger. They still do that sort of shit as teenagers.

Remus was winning, but only because Roman was waiting for the rain to lash down. Or at least that was his excuse for not running faster. It was getting chilly though, which only gave him more reason to buy coffee at this hour. 

“You’re paying, slowpoke!” Remus said as he dramatically opened the door to the shop. He immediately went to the counter to order their usual. 

Roman sat down at their usual spot, the table near the corkboard. He spotted Patton speaking to some guy in a purple hoodie on the other side of the shop. The guy looked familiar, so Roman assumed he had seen him around at school before. He called out Patton’s name and waved, and he waved back as well.  The guy left with a brown paper bag in hand and Patton walked over to the twins’ table. The rain was already pouring, so it was a good thing that the guy had an umbrella with him. 

“Ro, you’ll never guess what just happened!” Patton said with a huge grin on his face. He was practically bouncing with excitement.

“You won the lottery?” Roman asked, eyes wide, with the same level of excitement Patton had.

“No, even better! I got Virgil’s number!” Patton squealed with delight as he sat down next to Roman, flaunting Virgil’s contact on his phone.

“Oh, great,” Roman said with fake enthusiasm. Who the fuck?

Remus sat down opposite to Roman and placed a tray down on their table. “I didn’t know Emo was your type.”

 “Wait, are we talking about the guy with the purple hoodie?” Roman asked as he pointed to the front door. 

“Yeah, him!” Patton said, stealing a forkful of Roman’s chocolate cake. “I assumed you would know him since, you know, he’s Logan’s best friend? And you hate-read his social m-”

“I do not!” Roman interjected, taking his fork back from Patton in a playful manner. 

“You do,” Remus said in a sing-songy voice. “Sometimes he barges into my room in the middle of the night just to tell me what atrocity Logan posted on Instagram.”

“It was one time!” Roman finally admitted. “Why are we talking about me, we’re supposed to be talking about Patton’s love life!”

“Oh, right! I do have to get back to work though, but I could come over later and we could talk about boys?” Patton suggested. They often had sleepovers especially during finals week, but as much as they’d try to focus on studying, they always ended up goofing off and doing typical sleepover activities. 

“Fuck yes, sleepover middle-school-style!” Remus said, high-fiving Patton.

Patton patted the top of their heads before returning to the counter. Since Roman had already finished his chocolate cake, he stole a piece of Remus’s blueberry muffin. It quickly escalated into a competition between the two of them to see who could finish their coffee first. That was the fun part of having siblings. Everything was a competition. 

Roman slammed down his cup, grinning from ear to ear. He basked in his moment of victory as Remus scowled. By that time, the rain had already stopped, which meant that it was probably time for them to go home. The twins waved goodbye to the baristas before walking out the door and heading home. The pavement was wet, and knowing Remus, he was going to run, slip, and end up with an injury. Roman kept a close eye on his brother just in case. Remus had already been in and out of the hospital 4 times in the past two months and frankly, Roman was getting tired of his constant injuries and poor decisions.

Their house wasn’t too far away, so they walked home most of the time. They learned not to trust Remus with a car after the whole driving-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-road incident. No one liked to talk about it. Well, except for Remus, who mentioned it several times to everyone he had ever sat next to in class. 

Once they arrived in front of their house, Roman got momentarily distracted by the sound of soft meows. An adorable little kitten was playing in their garden, and as much as Roman wanted to pick it up, he was highly allergic. 

“Ree, look! It’s a-” Roman paused and looked around, noticing that his brother was no longer beside him. “Oh no.”

He frantically ran to the backyard and spotted Remus already on a tree branch, attempting to get to his room from the tree. He saw his brother and waved at him. 

“Ro, could you open the window from my room?” He yelled, gesturing to the closed window. He momentarily lost his balance, but caught the tree branch above him before he could plummet down to the ground. 

“Absolutely not, you incorrigible buffoon!” Roman yelled back. He sighed, tugging at his hair. On one hand, it would be funny. On the other, they would get in trouble and that won’t be funny at all. 

“Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious? I know you are!” 

So maybe he was a little bit curious. But that didn’t mean it was safe to do. Then again, he wasn’t the most reasonable person either. As long as Remus knows what he’s doing, he should be fine, right? Then again, Remus never knew what he was doing and he turned out okay. 

“Okay, I’m convinced,” Roman said after much thought. Remus cheered and did a victory dance, careful enough to not fall off of the tree. 

Roman ran inside the house, greeting his parents a quick “hello” as he passed by the kitchen. He dashed straight to Remus’s room, opened the window, then gestured for him to get in.

“Wait, get this on video,” Remus said as he tossed his phone through the window. Thankfully, Roman had good reflexes and caught it, otherwise, it might have shattered.

Roman gave him the signal. Remus pounced off of the tree and caught the windowsill. Using his upper body strength, he pushed himself upwards and rolled right into his room. 

“Holy shit,” Remus panted, clearly out of breath. “Give me my phone, I wanna see!”

“I am never letting you do that again,” Roman said as Remus replayed the video.

“Oh you will. I can tell.” Remus said, forwarding the video to multiple group chats. Several people were typing. He watched in amusement as people freaked out over his little stunt. The twins could tell that it would be the talk of the school on Monday. Not that they didn’t like the attention, in fact, they loved receiving attention.

After the excitement and adrenaline died down, Roman lied down on the bed, listening to Remus rant about his plans for the upcoming auditions for the Battle of the Bands. They held the auditions as early as 3 months before the event, which would give enough time for the contestants to practice. 

“So far, there’s me on the bass, Virge on the drums, and you as lead vocalist. You think Jay would wanna be lead guitar?” Remus said as he tuned his electric bass. 

“I don’t know, ask him.” Roman replied. “Hold on a sec, Virgil? As in Patton’s crush?”

“Of fucking course, how many damn Virgils are there at school?” Remus rolled his eyes, chucking a pencil at his brother. 

Roman sat up. He had a brilliant idea. “So, Patton’s coming over. Why don’t you invite Virgil and we do a little bit of matchmaking?”

Remus’s eyes widened. “Fuck, shit, you’re a motherfucking genius!” He scrambled to get his phone and sent a quick text to Virgil. It only took Remus mentioning that Patton would be there for Virgil to agree. Patton usually arrived around 10-ish, so Remus told him to come around 9. It would give them enough time to pull some strings.

Roman returned his attention to his phone, which apparently had dozens of notifications from Twitter. As always, he checked his dms first before the mentions. He was sure that several people had already posted Remus’s stunt and tagged both him and his brother. 

Vi, his internet friend, was at the very top of his dms. It could only mean one thing. Or two things, rather. Boy problems or life problems. Or both at the same time. Ironically, they started out as enemies on the internet. A misunderstanding, of sorts. 

personification of anxiety

@vergeofdeath

vi: yo princey

vi: fuck

vi: i’m spending the night with my crush

vi: holy shit

vi: i just gave him my number like a few hours ago??

princey: 👀

princey: don’t be too loud

vi: BITCH

vi: NOT LIKE THAT

vi: we’re staying over at my friend’s house

princey: that’s funny ‘cause my bro & i are hosting a mini sleepover too

princey: he invited over a friend bc our other friend has a crush on him

vi: dude 

vi: coincidence???

vi: i’ve never spoken to my friend’s bro before but he’s gonna be there ofc

vi: he’s like enemies with my best bud

princey: omg that’s so weird

princey: my twin’s bff is my enemy

princey: but like,, you know that,, i tell you that all the time

vi: woah hold on u have a twin??? u never mentioned a twin??? 

vi: i just assumed ur bro was near ur age??

vi: bitch my friend has a twin

vi: the fucking coincidences,, they’re everywhere

princey: don’t tell me ur a drummer too jhksdgfks

vi: BITCH

vi: I AM A DRUMMER

princey: holy fucking shit

vi: holy fucking shit indeed

“Boys, dinner!” Their mom called out from the kitchen. The twins immediately dashed out of the door, pushing each other as they tried to get to the dining table first. 

Since it was a Saturday, they were having seafood. Dinners were always eventful. Roman and Remus told their parents about the sleepover and Remus jumping off of the tree, which should’ve gotten them in trouble but their mom found it hilarious and let it slide. Their dad talked about his clients that were planning on a halloween-themed wedding, and their mom talked about the new tv show she was in. 

Overall, dinner went well. It was Remus’s turn to wash the dishes, so Roman returned to his room. His room was bigger so they would be using that one for the sleepover. He noticed that his nail polish was starting to chip off, so he brought out his pouch of nail polish from under the bed. There was a lot of clutter there, things such as old textbooks from freshman year, Remus’s broken drumsticks, some guitar picks, and expired makeup. He should get around to cleaning that, though he’s been meaning to do that for months now. 

By the time Remus finished washing dishes, there were several post-it notes stuck to the wall with various reminders such as to clean the space under the bed, buy new shoes, upgrade to a loft bed, buy oil paints, and water the plants. Roman already started on the pillow fort, so Remus lounged on the bed and looked up what good horror movies are on Netflix. 

Another reason why they often used Roman’s room for sleepovers was that he had a tv. It was originally supposed to be in Remus’s room, but he had a habit of breaking everything he could touch. It was a wonder they could trust him with dishes. On the other hand, Remus’s room was good for band practices or jamming out in general. He had instruments all over the place and they had it soundproofed so that the neighbors would stop complaining about the loud drumming at 2 a.m. 

Once Virgil arrived, their plan was set into motion. 

“So, I know we don’t talk at all, but just pretend that we’ve been good friends for a long time. I have a plan.” Roman said as he led the way to his room.

Virgil looked at him skeptically. “You know, Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?” Roman asked. 

“Quite the opposite actually,” Virgil smirked. He notices a few posters put up of Fall Out Boy and Waterparks. “But since you do have a good taste in music, so I’ll let it slide.”

During the short period of time that he left his brother alone in his room, Remus managed to trash his vanity. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Roman took this opportunity to strike a conversation. “Ree mentioned you play drums?” 

“Yeah, we’re planning on auditioning for the Battle of the Bands.” Virgil said, sending a quick message to one of his internet friends. “Has he asked you to join our band yet?”

Roman’s phone buzzed.

“Well, yeah. He sort of asked? I agreed, of course. Then he was like, ‘Oh good, I was going to poison you if you didn’t’. I’m used to it by now.”

Virgil chuckled. “He tried to poison me once ‘cause I stomped on his foot with my combat boots.”

“That was you? Oh my god, I owe you for that one!” Roman said, laughing at the memory of his brother crying in the school clinic. Turns out, they got along quite well. 

Their conversation was cut short when they heard knocks at the door. It was Patton and he arrived way earlier than expected. Remus pushed Virgil towards the door and mouthed “open it”. The twins high-fived each other and hid inside the pillow fort.  

“Hey Pat-”

As soon as Virgil opened the door, Patton’s face turned pink. He took a deep breath, puffed his cheeks, and closed the door. Virgil was too confused to move and the twins were slightly worried. 

Patton reopened the door and held out a container of cookies. “Hi Virge! I uh, didn’t expect to see you here… haha… what a coincidence?” He said awkwardly. 

Virgil took the cookies, but Remus bolted out of the fort and took it from Virgil’s hands. 

“You fucking gremlin!” Roman yelled, chasing Remus out of the room, who had started devouring cookies. Remus laughed maniacally, shoving past Virgil and Patton in order to get away from his brother. 

“Are they always like this?” Virgil asked, pointing at the twins who were now wrestling in the hallway. 

Patton hummed. “Yeah, most of the time.” 

The twins fought over the cookies for a while until realization hit them. 

Roman paused. He whispered something to Remus, and he stopped as well. The two began cursing and muttering something about “the plan” whilst pointing in Virgil and Patton’s direction. 

Right, the plan.

“Music!” Remus shouted, dragging Virgil and Patton to his room.

“What he meant to say was that we should play something together,” Roman informed the two. They nodded awkwardly. 

“Is Janus coming too?” Patton asked.

Shit. Roman forgot to invite him. 

“Oh um, I don’t know? I’ll have to ask.” Roman said. 

He took out his phone and sent a text that read “COME OVER ASAP”. Janus replied immediately, saying to leave the window open and that he’ll get in the room in a Remus fashion.

Great, he was going to be the fifth wheel tonight. 

[the-duke-of-deodorant]

Ship: Logince (fluff) Starring Logan being a cute nerd and Roman joining his excitement for the stars.

Warnings: Not sleeping, | Characters- Logan, Roman

Word count: 1097

The words on Logan’s computer screen started to blur in front of him. His notebook was covered with scribbled notes and doodles to match the essay he had been working on since 9:00- the time when most of the sides hid in their room and went to sleep. Logan usually stayed awake in his studies, researching whatever he was interested in at the time, and tonight it was stars. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine being there, floating in space and looking at the galaxy surrounding him. His pen clicked on the desk a few times trying to bring him back to reality.

The time was growing closer to 1. Normally Logan would stay up until midnight with his work, but this night was different. Refusing to admit how tired he was he switched to another tab, looking at the articles he found to help him with his work. He planned to reach his goal of 1,000 words by tonight, and he planned to reach that goal if it meant going to bed at sunrise. That is if he could think straight enough to make sense of the words in his head and put them on paper.

Sudden hands on his shoulders almost made him jump out of his seat. Once he gathered himself up again he turned to see Roman laughing at his reaction. Logan would have told him off if he could think of words to say. Instead he started to block him out when Roman placed his hands on him again in the most playful way he could.

“Bedtime was ten. What are you still doing up?” Logan tried to think of something to write so it would look like he was still busy.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Roman paused at his answer, trying to think of something to respond with.

“...Not tired.”

“Neither am I.”

“Really?” Roman turned the chair so Logan would face him instead of the computer. It was hard to tell in the lighting but it wouldn’t take much to see the loss of sleep in his appearance. It wasn’t the first night Logan had stayed up until 2AM either. Thankfully we weren’t that far in the night and bedtime could still happen before then. Roman stared at him for a second before glancing behind him at his work, starting to get a new idea. “Alright. What are you working on?”

“Astronomy.” Logan turned back to the computer to show Roman what he had been putting his time into for the past week. “Space in general. Just looking at the stars and galaxies and the planets makes you want to-... just look at it.” He switched tabs to a collection of pictures he had gathered in a presentation just to look at. Stars glittered in the mix of dark purple and blue gas that floated in space with the rest of the universe. He collected pictures of the planets, each with a different pattern of colors mixing in with each other. Logan’s face lit up trying to explain what he saw in the pictures.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal.” Logan paused to listen to whatever Roman was about to say. “I can show you those-” Roman gestured to the glittering picture in front of them. “But you gotta go to bed right after. So will I.” Logan stared at the picture, trying to imagine the world Roman was talking about. Sure the twins could make anything in the imagination, but Roman didn’t know anything about the stars. It didn’t seem like it at least.

“You wanna take me to see the floating lights?”

“Tangled. Nice. Never took you for a Disney fan.” Logan shook his head, staring back at the screen.

“I don’t have time. I need to finish this.”

“It’ll help.” Roman tried pushing a little more. “You ever wondered what stars would look like in person? Maybe if you want to think Logically I would say seeing the stars in person would help make your project more accurate. But if you wanna be not lame you could come because it’s fun. I saw how excited you were there.” Logan blushed thinking about how he smiled in front of Roman.

“Just a few minutes, then we’ll come back, right?”

“We have a deal?” Roman held his hand out in front of him for Logan to take. The moment their hands touched Roman pulled Logan out of his chair and led him out of his room and to the front of the imagination. In Roman’s room there was a pathway disguised as a closet that took anyone entering to a whole new world in the imagination. Usually the entrance was a forest with glittering trees and a bright blue sky with silver clouds- the default to Roman’s side. He could change it without entering, and altered the scene to something he thought Logan would love. He hoped, at least. He got this far.

After a breath Roman walked though, taking Logan with him by the hand.

The world around them changed into a long grassy field only lit with starlight. Dim stars surrounded them mixed in with red and purple stardust. Instantly Logan’s grip on Roman’s hand lightened.

Logan raced over to the scene and held his hand up to the clouds taking in the warmth of the stars. Not scientifically accurate, obviously, since if they were actually in space they would be dead. But the imagination equivalent of seeing a tiny galaxy in person was just as amazing. Logan’s eyes reflected the swirling colors in excitement, before turning and looking at the millions of stars, all seeming to be in the right places according to his studies. Planets appeared up close blending in with the rest of the scene, which made Roman worry that he was starting to overdo it, but Logan’s smile grew brighter when he saw them. It seemed like you could reach out and touch Jupiter with your own hands.

——

Logan rested his head on Roman’s chest, staring up at the galaxy above them. It was all silent except for the soft sound of breathing and the faint sound of Roman’s heartbeat. He was asleep but him laying there was all the company Logan needed. Roman was gentle, resting his hand on Logan’s chest. All that work Logan forgot about would have to wait now. Tomorrow they would go back and rejoin the sides in their every day routine, but neither of them wanted to leave here.

With the whole world silent Logan started to drift asleep.

Taglist: @winterrs-child @remusthedukeofdeodorant @thecatchat @stop-it-anxiety @znikitrash @awkwardandanxiousfander @nowletmeseeyourkezzhands @prox-xima @artist-of-insanity @hela-daughter-of-loki @arcticfrostdoesthings @tinydemondragon

[davidthetraveler]

David’s Fic-Rec Friday:  2020/04/17

Hey guys.  This posting really late on Friday thing is probably going to be the norm, at least until circumstances change.  I hope that’s not too inconvenient for everybody.

In any case, I’ve got six more recommendations for you this week, so let’s get cracking.

Fusing by MagicQuill42 (aka @quillfics42)

To start off, we have an interesting story featuring Romantic LAMP straight directly from the days of the Famders Fusion Craze.  This character study is written in the form of Thomas’ impressions of the six entities created by the fusion of two of his sides.  Each has their own quirks and traits, as well as strengths and weaknesses.  And while their fusion might leave Thomas feeling a little weird, it’s not necessarily a bad weird.  It’s just different, and that’s okay.  An intriguing work of fiction, and one that’s definitely worth some attention.

Sleepy Scratches by EJWalters (aka @kittykatwriteystuff )

Next up, we’ve got a short Moxiety ficlet that can be read either platonically or romantically.  Patton’s reading a book in the commons when Virgil unceremoniously enters and lays down with his head in Patton’s lap.  After sleepily confirming with the fatherly side that he’s fine but tired, Patton starts to scratch his hair and head, which the resident emo loves to the point of almost purring before falling into a restful sleep.  Adorable and cute in all the best ways, this fic is the definition of soft and sweet.

Prince’s Love by CombineTheKitchens (aka @combine-the-kitchens)

And here we’ve got a Logince slash Moxiety Royalty AU.  Virgil’s rather concerned when his prince, Logan, climbs a tree to try and find his friend and lover Roman.  And when he does, he and his moody advisor go to find him, only to learn that due to a decrease in the number of royal horses in the stables, Roman the stable boy will be let go.  But Logan assures his love that his family understands their relationship, and that they’ve already made arrangements for him to stay in the castle as Logan’s brother Patton’s personal assistant, assuring their relationship, and Virgil and Patton’s, will be able to continue and blossom.  Simple and sweet, you’ll love this lovely tale.

For Today Only by ArchiveResponcibly (aka @chaosresponcibly )

Now for a more interesting turn, we’ve got a Prinxiety Fae AU for you.  Virgil is nervous about his upcoming marriage to Roman, especially since tradition dictates that as a fae marrying a human prince he must give up his powers and his immortality to do so.  At least, that’s what his brother Deceit has always told him.  But a visit from his mind-reading fae friend Logan helps him understand that Roman’s been expecting to be giving up his humanity and mortality upon their marriage, and that he’s already renounced his claim to the throne, leaving it to his brother.  Needless to say, if these two had just bothered to actually talk to each other they wouldn’t have this problem.  But then, love’s not just blind, it can also be stupid.

There are obviously mentions of supernatural content, a morally ambiguous Deceit is mentioned, there is a brief allusion to Remus, and Virgil’s a bit of a potty mouth here.  But otherwise this is a wonderful story about how love may not always be the smartest emotion, but it’s certainly still one of the best.

Day on the Trains by anxiouslyfred (aka @anxiouslyfred )

For your consideration, a Royality first date fic to lighten your heart.  Roman has lived in the same town all his life, and the presence of a luxurious steam locomotive station has not gone unnoticed to him.  But he’s always wanted to wait and see it on a date with a special someone.  And one day, that someone appears in the form of new neighbor Patton, who is so excited to have a welcoming and generous new friend like Roman that he finds himself bold enough to suggest the very date idea Roman’s been sitting on for years.  Needless to say, this is fluff in its most succinctly sweet form.

Angel(s) by chemically_imbalanced_romance (aka @soft-stormcloud)

Finally, to end off this week’s selections, we’ve got a Moxiety Halloween fic to tickle your spooky bone.  Patton and Virgil are hosting a Halloween party at their place, but Virgil refuses to tell Patton what he’s dressing up as this year.  Patton himself is going as an angel, thanks to some artistic help from Roman.  But with some help from both Roman and Logan, Virgil’s got a divine surprise for his angelic boyfriend.  Fluffy and sweet in the most wonderfully spooky way, who says Valentine’s Day is when all the romance happens?

*****

And for this week’s Featured Fic Writer, we have:

patchworkofstars (aka @patchworkofstars)

Here too is another excellent writer worthy of some more attention and praise.  Feel free to go send them some love and support.

*****

Well, that about wraps it up for this week.  Please feel free to give each of these stories and writers some affection with some kudos, some comments, and mabye even a bookmark or two.

If you’d like to check out previous weeks’ recommendations, or find out more about the Fic-Rec Friday Project, you can find links to all of that on my Fic-Rec Friday Masterpost.

And if you’d like to be added to the Fic-Rec Friday Tag List, or be removed from said list, or make any suggestions for stories or authors to feature here, feel free to drop into my inbox and leave me a note.

In any case, I hope you all have an excellent weekend, and happy reading!

General Tag List:

@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @panicattheeverywheremcr

Fic-Rec Friday Tag List:

@kunnuglegur-tortimandi @max-is-tired @creativity-killed-thekitten @the-fangirl-sunstorm @stoicpanther @averykedavra

[asmolqueen]

Mission Accomplished

@sanderssidescelebrations Pairing: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders Prompt: Mistletoe Warnings: sympathetic Deceit and sympathetic Remus, Remy is drunk in the end and so is Remus Summary: Lola and Ramona are gay disasters. Peyton does her best to help them. Operation Logince is in the works. Also it's Christmas time. btw this is a genderbend story- Yes I’m aware this is very late. I’m also working on the others still- Read on AO3

“Peyton, help me.”

“How are you expecting me to help, if I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“I think I’m in love with Lola?”

Peyton stared at her best friend in disbelief for a moment. “Excuse me, what?”

“Like, I’m so impressed by her? She’s like, seriously smart, and absolutely gorgeous by the way — I can’t make sense of how a person just naturally that pretty? — and like, her way of speaking so articulate? She’s just- I think she might be who I’ve been looking for all this time?”, the brunette girl sighed, almost sounding lovesick.

“Woah there, hold your horses, Ramona, don’t get your hopes too high, you remember what happened the last time you thought a girl was the one?”

“Yeah, kinda weird how Remedee and Delaney are already engaged-”

“Exactly!”

“Well, I don’t think Remedee would be Lola’s type or the other way around, and like I said, the’re engaged, Patty.”

The blonde rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses. Usually she’d be ecstatic to help her friend in these kinda situation, but she’s been hurt twice in a row and this was a different kind of crush or being in love than Delaney or even Ramona's Ex-Girlfriend.

This was Lola.

Their best friend.

The only reason she had met Virginia.

This was completely different.

She needed proof that this wasn’t going to flop.

“Give me three days.”, Peyton suddenly said, looking back at the girl in front of her. “Then I’ll give you an estimate on if this will work and how long it will take. Sound good?”

Ramona jumped up and hugged the blonde with so much impact, that they almost fell off the coffee table that Peyton had been seated on. “Thank you so much!”

After she got back up, Ramona dusted herself off and smiled sweetly. “I’ll be off then, Rem asked me if I wanted to join her and Dee at Dinner tonight. She claimed that Dee set her up to ask me, but when I said that I was at your place, she looked like a lost puppy, so I had to say yes.”, she chuckled. “So, I’ll text you?”

“See you, Rori!”, Peyton called after her ash she watched her escape through the front door of the apartment. “Virge! I need to talk to you right now!”

Her purple haired roommate and girlfriend stepped out of the room, a black ball of fur on her arm and a grumpy look on her face. “Whaaaat? Pandora and I were trying to take a nap back there, you know?”

“Sorry, Stormcloud, I need you to dig around a bit for me, though.”, She explained got up from the table, heading toward the slightly shorter girl. “You’re adorable, you know? Oh and, Virge, I think you’re okay, too.”

Virginia just stared at her in disbelief. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend? You must’ve finally met Remedee, was she here instead of Ramona and tinted your innocence?”

“Honestly, you’re terrible.”, she deadpanned before kissing the girl on the cheek. “Let’s go cuddle with Pandora and then I’ll explain what’s up?”

“Sounds fantastic.”

After a while of them just lazily petting the furball that Pandora was, Peyton began to speak.

“Ramona is all head over heels for Lola.”

Virginia froze for a moment before jerking her head to the side to look at the blonde. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be! This is terrible!”

“No, actually, this is fucking perfect!”

Peyton gasped, though it was rather fake, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to change her girlfriends habit of cursing in every situation. Nonetheless, she followed the sound with a rather squeaky “Language!”

“So, why is it perfect?”

“Remember the call that woke us up last night? Lola needed advice. She couldn’t sleep, which is old news, I know, but!”, she paused for dramatic effect. “This wasn’t casual insomnia, Lola and I both know what that feels like and that wasn’t it. Her mind was twisting and turning and no matter what happened, her thoughts drifted to our perfect little princess!”

Peyton squeaked, in excitement this time. “And I have the perfect plan!”, she exclaimed before pulling out her phone and texting her brunette friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open File Mission Name: Operation ‘Logince’ Status: Accepted Code Name: Agent P Agent’s Personal Info: Peyton Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Hart, 23 — In A Relationship Accomplice: No One Miss Prince Would Expect Estimated Success Rate: 78% Estimated Date Of Success: 1st Of January Close File

Permission To Let Miss Peyton E. Hart Take On The Mission And Let Her Do Whatever She Feels Necessary?

[YES.] [NO.] [I HAVE QUESTIONS.]

[I HAVE QUESTIONS.]

Agent P Can Not Answer Any Questions About The Mission. She Did Not Expect Miss Ramona Juliette Prince To Pick This Option, As It Is Unavailable As Of Now.

Do You Accept The Terms and Conditions And Swear To Trust Miss Hart?

[YES] [NO] [*insert curse-word* you.

Yes.]

[*insert curse-word* you.

Yes.]

Thank You For Responding. I Will Now Let You Talk To Miss Hart.

RAMONA I GOT A SOLUTION

I saw, you doofus. I need’a eat with Miss Remedee Kathrina Prince and her girlfriend, miss Delaney Guja for dinner, if you’d excuse me?

Gladly! Say Hi from me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks after that, the friend group met for their yearly Christmas party, which was more of a calm get together, if you ignored Remedee’s whole behavior, this year it was held at the shared place of Emilie and Ramona.

Peyton and Virginia thought this to be the perfect opportunity to carry out their plan. And they also had a woman on the inside.

Although Emelie wasn’t too keen on just playing with her friends feelings and getting into their relationship, she agreed when the girlfriends explained that both girls had deeply fallen for each other and that they had their reasons to ask for help.

The party was, like every year, set on the night of the 25th. It had been going rather calm, even Remedee was slightly reserved, which had scared Peyton and Ramona a slight bit, but she didn’t mention it, and they had all just exchanged gifts and everyone was being rather cutesy about it.

There were kisses and hugs everywhere, which had Peyton’s heart melting, she loved how they were all just a big family.

After Virginia had slightly hinted at the more-than-friends behavior René and Emelie had toward each other and that they had to find out what that was later, she reminded her girlfriend of their mission. They gave Emelie a small sign that they had talked about before and got to work.

The smallest of the bunch had excused herself to go to the bathroom, her girlfriend had distracted her best friend with some cute photos she had taken of Pandora. And maybe some couple pictures, but Virginia didn’t need to know that.

Emelie had gotten to her part, talking to Lola about the psychology behind dreams, it was a subject she knew the black haired couldn’t resist.

Perfect.

While the plan had been going as it was planned, Remedee and René had sneaked into the kitchen to pop the first bottle of champagne. That would be a problem that the bunch would have to deal with later.

Delaney had to leave earlier, her little sister, Amber, had called, it was something urgent, but she didn’t tell the others why, just that it would be fine and they should continue having fun.

“So basically, our little sunshine is… Actually a sunshine? Or are you just that good at photoshop?”, Ramona had asked, laughing.

Peyton had tried for quite a while to get Ramona in the right position, they needed all of it to be perfect, and had grown frustrated at this point.

How do you make a person move backwards?

As Emelie had noticed that, she gave her friend the tiniest of nods, trying to communicate to her, that she got it.

Because, in comparison to Ramona, Lola didn’t like to be too close to people, so if Emilie moved closer to the black haired, she would subconsciously walk backwards.

That did the job, both unbelievably oblivious girls were now standing back to back, with Peyton and Emilie smiling at each other, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice.

Virginia, who had never went to the bathroom in the first place, had been impatiently waiting on top of the staircase, a huge grin on her face.

“Yo! Teach, Princey!”, she yelled and held her arm out over them.

Peyton held back a squeal while Emilie quietly chuckled.

The mentioned girls were both looking up to see the small arrangement the purple haired was holding.

A mistletoe.

Lola was the first to look down from it and turned to her crush, staring for a bit.

After a while of mentally cursing every single Disney villain she could think of, and that were a lot, Ramona also decided to look away from the mistletoe. Lola was as red as her favorite dress, and the brunette suspected that she’d look the same. “Well, I- I know the rules but if you- I mean we don’t gotta, you know? Like, if you're not wanting to, that’s fine with me- I just-”

While Ramona was trying to form a sentence, Lola considered her chances.

It was a fifty/fifty in her book. Either she would be rejected, or not. She was gonna regret it anyway, but who cared. She would take advantage of that moment.

So Lola did a thing that no one expected, she grabbed the collar of her crushes shirt and pulled her close. “Zip it.”

And then her lips were on Ramona’s.

Virginia almost let the mistletoe fall on top of them in the attempt to keep her composure and took a few pictures short after, the angle possibly not the best, but she knew none of the technically unoccupied girls would be able to move apart from the grins that were getting wider by the second.

As Ramona stood there frozen, thanking whatever deity helped her, Lola grew more and more anxious over her decision. She was about to pull back when the brunette put her arms around her neck and kissed back.

Que a wolf whistle from the general direction of the kitchen.

“Get some, sis!”, was yelled, rather drunkenly.

Both immediately jumped back and Ramona turned to her sister. “Rem!”, she yelled, her voice cracking. “Why?”

“Well, you know?”, Remedee said, still sounding very drunk, getting closer to the bunch with René trailing behind, “Revenge.”

And the way she said it, so serious and sober, had almost scared Ramona, until her twin started laughing and almost falling over.

The brunette girl turned to her best friend. “Peyton?”

“Don’t at me! You granted me permission to do anything!”

“So you decided to make my roommate pull a Brutus on me? How considerate.”

“I asked. And if it weren’t for Virginia I wouldn’t have been able to do it!”

Lola just blinked for a while before clearing her throat. “Excuse me?”

“Riiiiight... So you weren’t in for any of it but I kinda broke my promise?”, Virginia started as she was supporting René and standing with the group.

The black haired raised an eyebrow. “Virginia?”

She sighed and decided to load the literal weight on her shoulders onto Emelie and also finally get rid of the metaphorical one of breaking a promise. “Ramona told Peyton she likes you the day after you so graciously woke me and my cat up because you couldn’t sleep because you’re too gay for this shit. So we talked and figured out we needed to get you two together and well,” the girl looked at her accomplices. “We didn’t think you’d be the one to initiate that. So I’m not sure about these two, but I’m still stunned.”

“So you planned that.”

“Yes.”

“And you all knew about it.”

“Pretty much?”

“And all of you kept shut in front of me?”

“Looks like it.”

Lola nodded. “I’m impressed. That’s literally the first thing ever that you were able to keep from me.”

Peyton’s face lit up. “You’re not mad?”

“Babe, we literally had her and her crush kissing, why would she be mad?”

“Good point.”

Ramona, who was kind of embarrassed at this point, just linked arms with Lola and let her away from the group, so they were sitting on the couch now, talking. Both of them still had the slightest tints of pink on their faces, but both had smiles on their faces.

“Mission accomplished!”, Peyton said, looking back to the others, wanting to hug both her teammates, until she saw how Emilie had to try to keep René away from trying to kiss her.

“You need help there, Em?”, Virginia had asked with a smirk.

“Nope, I’m fine! It’s fine! I’m good.”

And just like that, the team had another mission. Taking care of two drunk disasters who were absolutely horrible.

At least two of them woke up without headaches the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open File Mission Name: Operation ‘Logince’ Status: Accepted Agent: Peyton Elizabeth Hart Accomplices: Virginia Church, Emelie Picani End Of Mission: 25th of December Mission Accomplished Close File

[lovelylogans]

odds are

LORELAI: Oh, come on. This will be fun. LUKE: No way, not happening. LORELAI: But this is our first Halloween together as a full-blown, committed, soon-to-be-married couple. We need to start our own traditions. LUKE: Tell you what. I'll build you the chair, help with the test tubes, and then I'm done. LORELAI: But you would be so scary with smoke coming out of your nose. I really want to see that. LUKE: Well, we're gonna be together the rest of our lives, so odds are you will.

-gilmore girls, twenty-one is the loneliest number

part of the wyliwf verse | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: dogs, costumes, bittersweet nostalgia, homesickness, loneliness mentions, deceit

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 4,748

notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! we’ve hit the last prompt for 13 days of halloween prompts over at @sanderssidescelebrations​! today’s prompt is costume party! this takes place about two years later after the events of cohabit and about nine months after the events of cocoa—so it’s logan and roman’s freshman year of college and don’t worry the whole Relationship Development and like, Other Developments that get dropped pretty soon in the story will be subject to a oneshot(s) or potentially multichap sideshire files, don’t worry boo i gotchu you can find the various foods mentioned throughout the story here.

seven days

patton has been well aware that halloween is virgil’s favorite holiday. it’s not even their first halloween since they’ve been together or lived together—but virgil’s really stepping it up this year.

“pat.”

patton makes a grumbling kind of noise—patton’s close to drifting off to sleep, which virgil knows, and virgil also knows not to really expect a lot of conversation from patton when he’s near sleep, either waking up or falling asleep—and squints. the only light on in the room is virgil’s phone.

“pat, we forgot to get a costume for cocoa,” virgil says.

patton mumbles something that’s supposed to be “we have a week,” but it comes out garbled. somehow, virgil understands it—it’s probably the almost-nineteen years of knowing him.

“i don’t even have an idea,” virgil says.

“can we figure this out in the morning?” patton mumbles. 

“it’s cocoa’s first halloween.”

“cocoa doesn’t seem to care much right now.”

cocoa is, indeed, flopped out at their feet, snoozing happily away. patton’s kind of jealous.

“but—i don’t have an idea,” virgil says, and patton sighs, adjusting as much as he can without kicking their dog, and ends up flopping most of his body on top of virgil’s torso, pillowing his head on virgil’s shoulder. this also, conveniently, brings virgil’s phone out of his sight.

“sleep now.”

“patton—“

“sleep now,” he repeats in a kind of growl. 

there’s a hesitation. then, the light clicks off, and there’s the sound of virgil’s phone being settled on his bedside table. patton almost smiles, and readjusts, getting comfy.

“...so, like, do you think we should dress her more cute or more scary?” virgil asks tentatively.

patton lets out a huff that’s the closest thing to a snort he can get, when he’s this close to dropping off. “definitely cute,” he mumbles.

“okay,” virgil says. there’s another long pause, and patton’s about to slip off into sleep, before—

“is it too on-the-nose if we dress her up like a cup of cocoa?”

“darling,” patton says, “i love you, and i will super definitely listen to your rambling as you try to narrow down your costume ideas, because that is what fiancés slash almost-husbands should do, but if you do not let me get to sleep there might just be a halloween-themed murder.”

there’s a pause.

“so no to the cup of cocoa idea, then,” virgil says, and patton laughs, pressing a kiss to virgil’s shoulder before he nuzzles against his chest.

“so if we’re thinking cute, then we’ve got a lot of options since she’s pretty ambiguous about clothes, she likes the jacket we put on her when it’s cold out, so that’s not a limit,” virgil muses, and patton falls asleep to the gentle lull of his voice as he talks about dog costume ideas.

...

six days

logan really shouldn’t still be doing this, by now. he’s been at college for nearly three months, now. it only took twenty-one days to form a habit, and it seemed the twenty-one days had snuck up on him, and now—

“hi, dad.”

“hey, kiddo,” his dad says, and logan leans against the wall of his lecture hall, closing his eyes tight. “how’s your day going so far?”

“mostly good,” logan fibs. “i just got done with my history course, so i’m done with classes for the week.”

his dad makes a sound of celebration, and logan smiles, just a little, avoiding the gazes of the anonymous sea of people flooding forth from the lecture hall.

“but i’m going to the library soon,” logan adds, and his dad lets out a familiar sigh.

“well, as long as you’re not overworking yourself,” his dad says.

logan hums, because if he says something about how he’s going to be plotting out an essay that’s due right before thanksgiving break his dad will tell him to take a break and that he can take a weekend to relax, but he absolutely cannot do that. instead, he says, “what plans do you have for the weekend?”

“oh, not much, really,” patton says. “hang around the diner, take cocoa for some really long walks before it gets too cold, try to talk virgil out of turning the front yard into a graveyard for the trick-or-treaters, you know, the usual.”

“trying to talk virgil out of what,” logan says. 

“halloween,” patton says, by way of explanation, and logan makes a noise of understanding.

it’s virgil’s absolute favorite holiday—logan remembers thinking, as a kid, that whenever virgil started getting excited about halloween, it meant his birthday was coming soon—and logan attempts to forcefully quell what absolutely was not disappointment at his first halloween approach away from sideshire. the setup’s half the fun.

“you still don’t know what you’re dressing up as?”

“nope,” his dad says cheerfully. “he insists that all of it’s gonna be a surprise, so—”

“you don’t even have the slightest idea?” logan pushes.

“well, i’m no you,” his dad points out, and laughs when logan sighs.

“are you doing anything fun, this weekend?” his dad asks, and logan ignores the little squirming guilty feeling in his stomach, the same way he always feels when his dad asks the question, and when he answers.

“i think i might go out to dinner with some people on my dorm floor,” logan says vaguely, thinking of the meal that he’ll pack away from the dining hall and eat alone in his room, “or see a movie,” he’ll be making flashcards and quizzing himself over and over and over again, “we haven’t decided yet.”

“oh, that’s great!” his dad says, sounding pleased. “let me know if you see a movie, if it’s good or not, yeah?”

“yeah,” logan says, making a mental note to look up movie reviews in case his dad asks, in their call tomorrow. “how’s work been?”

he leans against the wall, listening to his dad prattle cheerfully on, and he sinks further and further back into the shadows, relishing the autumn chill, the news of home, and the slightest balm that his dad’s voice offers against the gnawing presence of homesickness and loneliness that’s been in his chest since he was left alone in his dorm room for the first time.

...

five days

“hello?”

“hey! hey hey hey hey hey hey. hey.”

“hello. are you drunk?”

“i’m at a halloween party, and i’ve had a couple drinks.”

“mhm.”

“not many! just a couple.”

“of course.”

“a man drunk-dials you one time...”

“it’s been three times, but i’ll allow a pass, since your memory recall is clearly impaired.”

“were you sleeping?”

“no, just reading.”

“s’late. you should be sleeping.”

“roman, why would you have called if you thought i was sleeping?”

“get your logic out of here, i love you and i wanted to check in.”

“ah, okay. have you hit—what was the phrase?”

“...i might be in rambly drunk territory.”

“what a shock.”

“hey.”

“it’s true!”

“seriously, though, what are you doing up? usually you’re all about the whole... getting eight hours of sleep thing. or at least you always tell me to get eight hours of sleep.”

“i have an essay—“

“it’s the weekend.”

“that does not change the fact i have an essay, roman. in fact, it indicates the nearness of the due date. besides, i’m working ahead so i can better focus when we’re both home next week—”

“ugh, fine, fine. i’m sure i’ll remember this when i can more coherently bring a point together to tell you why taking at least one day off a week is better for your mental health and general productivity, but—“

“roman, was there a point to this call?”

“i love you and i wanted to hear your voice.”

“...you’re pouting.”

“am not.”

“are too.”

“am not!”

“are too.”

“am—“

“i’m cutting it off now, or we’ll keep going in circles until the sun rises.”

“fiiiiiine.”

“....are too.”

“hey!”

...

four days

"okay,” virgil says, checking the list that he’s taken off the wall as patton pushes the cart behind him, with the squeak-squeak-squeak of a wheel that needs to be oiled.

usually, when he and patton go grocery shopping, they go to taylor doose’s shop in town, but since they need to get decorations and bags of candy and a ton of other stuff, they’ve driven a little closer to the city so they can go to a bigger grocery store that’s got everything they’ll need.

squeak-squeak-squeak, and virgil glances up at the listings hanging from the ceiling.

“so this is food, and i guess over there might be decorations?”

“mhm,” patton says, squeak-squeak-squeak.

“we’ve gotten candy,” patton had snuck at least three extra bags into the cart and virgil pretended not to see, “we’ve gotten streamers, we got banners, i was thinking about getting some spare fabric in case my idea for cocoa’s costume doesn’t pan out and i have to go to my back-up plan, and we still need to get—”

the squeaking’s stopped. virgil turns back, curious, and sees patton stopped in his path and staring at—

oh.

virgil plods back a few steps, so he’s hovering near patton’s shoulder. patton doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he’s staring at the racks of superhero costumes—from onesies for babies to about the size logan was, when he was seven or so.

“sweetheart,” virgil says, soft and gentle, and patton jumps just a little.

“sorry!” he says, and shakes himself, reaching out a finger as if to brush it against a baby onesie, but thinking better of it, hand curling back toward him. “sorry, sorry, just—i wondered if...”

“yeah?” virgil asks.

“i was just thinking about,” patton says, and swallows. “logan, y’know. when he was this tiny.”

virgil had figured. over the past few months, he’s found patton lost in thought and staring at any number of things—the jam shelf in doose’s grocery, whenever he sees rudy out and about in town, the telescope logan had gotten for his sixteenth birthday that he’d had to reluctantly leave behind since there wouldn’t be enough space for it in his dorm room, any time he passes the press—and it’s just...

it twists at virgil’s heart, every time it happens, a bittersweetness that surges unexpectedly to the surface for him, too—making jam tarts three times a week is an exercise in making sure he doesn’t cry at work, which feels stupid, they’re just tarts, but every time he rolls out dough he thinks of all the times logan had helped him with it, the smiles he’d get whenever virgil snuck him one, and it—

it’s just. hard. kids grow up, and that’s natural, and good, but...

but, well. it didn’t stop the nostalgia.

“do you think he would have been a big superhero fan?” he asks, soft. “if they were as big a market then as they are now.”

patton swallows, leans his head against virgil’s shoulder, just for a moment. “the science ones,” he says softly. “he’d like—he’d like the science ones.”

virgil smiles a little, feeling that familiar lump in his throat. “the reporters, too. he’d have the alliteration thing going, too—lois lane logan. and roman would be superman.”

patton lets out a laugh that’s really closer to a sob, and virgil wants to wrap him up in a long, lingering hug, virgil’s general shyness about public displays of affection be damned, but before he can do that, patton turns. he’s smiling at virgil, just a little, but it’s fake around the edges.

“sorry,” patton says, and swallows. virgil nudges him, just a little.

“he’ll be home soon,” virgil reminds him, soft and quiet.

“i know,” patton murmurs, and a slightly rueful smile twists his lips. “i know, i know. it’s just—”

“i know,” virgil murmurs, and allows himself to lean over and press a chaste kiss to patton’s cheek. “it’s okay to miss him.”

it’s been a common refrain.

“i know.”

that’s been common, too.

“i miss him too,” virgil admits, quiet, and patton squeezes tightly at his wrist, before he takes a deep breath and forcefully turns away from anything resembling a baby clothes section.

“okay,” patton says, and maybe he’s forcing himself to sound a bit brighter and perkier than usual. “what else do we need to get?”

virgil lets it slide, and if he maybe hangs back so that he can hold patton’s hand as they walk through the store—well, patton’s clinging to him tightly enough that it’s clear that he needs it, too.

...

three days

"i’d had no idea you were so fascinated by halloween,” logan comments, from where he’s holding up the banner as dee affixes the other side.

“you think my spooky bitch aesthetic wouldn’t be all over this?” dee says, voice studiously bland.

“well, you were never ‘all over it’ at chilton.”

“you wore those uniforms for three years,” dee says pointedly. “and you know how strict they were with dress code.”

“true,” logan acknowledges, and steps back when dee comes to attach the other edge of the CREEPIN IT REAL banner to the wall. “are you sure you don’t want to come to sideshire?”

“i’d have to visit my parents,” dee says, with an eye-roll. “i have an invite to get wine-drunk with some poetry majors—“

“i thought it was whiskey-drunk with pre-meds?”

“—so i’m afraid i’m booked, and cannot upstage your little boy-toy with my clearly superior costume.”

“it’s roman,” logan says. “you know it’s roman. you got drunk and spilled a lot of your life story with roman, even if it directly conflicts with the varying life stories you’ve told me. you can no longer pretend that you are not on a first-name basis with him.”

“of course, sanders,” dee says, and logan rolls his eyes, before he draws his hand back from the pile of decor.

“um,” he says, and then winces, because dee can detect any sense of uncertainty in anyone’s tone, like a shark smelling blood. 

“what?” dee says, glancing at him.

“would you,” logan says, and his mouth twists, since he knows he can’t pass this off as anything but sentimental. “would you be willing to keep the fake spider webbing to your room?”

dee narrows his eyes at him. “you’re not afraid of spiders.”

“no,” logan agrees, and hands it over, conscientious of the lack of spider webbing in his halloweens all his life—because his dad’s afraid of spiders, and virgil has always catered to him. “but i’d prefer you kept it to your room anyway.”

...

two days

"all right, what’ll it be?” virgil asks, leaning a hip against the counter and readying his pen to write down patton’s order.

“thiiiiiiis whole section,” patton says, outlining the special insert of halloween-themed foods with his pointer finger. “oh, and a hot cocoa/coffee, too.”

“patton.”

“c’mon, pleeaaase?” patton pleads, batting his eyelashes at virgil. “i’ve barely tried any of them, and you only do it once a year—”

“you won’t be able to eat all that,” virgil starts.

“sample sizes, then,” patton says. “little bits of everything.”

virgil pauses.

“you can control my portions, that way,” patton points out. “and i’ll be taste-testing everything, and i won’t be wasting food. win-win.”

virgil hesitates, tapping the pen. “bigger serving of the butternut squash risotto, so you’ll have an actual meal, a side of vegetables of my choice that you’ll eat, and only one cup of caffeinated hot cocoa/coffee, it’s already late in the day.”

patton beams at him, handing him back the menu. “you’re the best.”

“yeah, yeah,” virgil mutters, and patton blows him a kiss, just for extra measure.

virgil rolls his eyes, trying to act like he’s not grinning like a lovestruck idiot, and retreats back into the kitchen to stick the ticket into the deck.

“i really should make a halloween sampler platter next year,” virgil muses aloud, and taps the idea into his phone for later, so he remembers it, before he starts readying patton’s dinner—caramel apple slices, cheesy spiders, monster pizza bites, mummy jalepeño poppers, spooky spinach dip in a bread bowl cauldron, a saucy spider, ghost toast. he adds on a couple decorated cookies that he’ll default are part of the menu, if patton teases him about it.

and, when patton makes the same happy noises that he always does whenever he eats anything that virgil makes him, well. if he’s smiling to himself as he clears out the coffee filters, then it’s no one’s business but his.

...

one day

“i got it,” virgil says triumphantly.

“got what?” patton says absently, taking out the various kinds of candy they’d bought earlier in the week to put into various bowls.

“cocoa’s costume,” virgil says. “i got it.”

“yeah?” patton says, glancing up at him and grinning. “can i see?”

“nope,” virgil says, and drops a kiss to the top of his head, before he drops into the opposite chair at the kitchen table. “but it is very cute, and it ties in with ours.”

“which i’m also not supposed to know about,” patton says.

“exactly,” virgil says, and he frowns at the bags of candy. “are we mixing or sorting or...?”

“stuff with nuts in red, stuff that’s allergen-safe in blue,” patton says, gesturing to the bowls. 

“got it,” virgil says, tugging a bag full of fun-size skittles toward him. 

cocoa, loyally, takes up her regular seat under the dining table, where she begs for scraps, and patton laughs, reaching down to pet her, tousling her fur and sending her ears flopping.

“no, cocoa, honey,” patton says, smiling, “no candy for you.”

cocoa, however, lives in eternal hope, so she sets her chin on his thigh and lets out a little sigh.

patton does sneakily pop a fun-size snickers into his mouth, though, because he’s an adult and he can eat candy if he wants. 

and a milky way. and a three musketeers. and a reese’s. and—

“it’s cute you think i don’t notice you doing that,” virgil says, not looking up from where he’s opening another bag of candy, and patton smiles at him, only a little guilty, as he tosses a handful of m&ms into his mouth.

“aw, babe,” patton teases, “you think i’m cute?”

virgil looks up at him, fond and jokingly exasperated all at once. “we’re literally engaged.”

“yeah, but,” patton says, and grins wider. “you think i’m cu-ute.”

virgil huffs, before he leans over the table, standing, to press a kiss to patton’s lips, and patton can’t stop smiling for long enough to let him do it properly.

virgil doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

...

halloween

"okay,” virgil says, and hands over a vast bunch of black fabric. patton accepts it with eager hands.

“my costume?”

“your costume,” virgil confirms. “i figured i’d do some makeup too, as we’re waiting for trick-or-treaters, if that’s cool with you.”

patton makes a distracted sound of agreement as he unfolds it—he can’t quite unparse what it is right now, but it’s virgil-made in both idea and fabric-wise, so he’s sure he’ll love it.

“okay,” patton says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “i’ll change and take the first shift of babies trick-or-treating while you and cocoa get everything ready for the party, yeah?”

“yeah,” virgil says, looking pleased, and patton ducks into the bathroom, untangling the fabric.

it’s a black shirt, a black jacket, black pants—they all have feathery-looking accents, subtle and yet so clear, and patton tilts his head at it, trying to figure it out. it’s some kind of bird, definitely, but—

patton shrugs, and tugs it on, before he stares at himself in the mirror—it’s a bit low-cut, front-wise, but there’s threads criss-crossing in the front to seal it up, so he does. there’s a long, duster-type coat that patton really likes and might wear regularly, too, since the feather stuff is maybe subtle enough to pass off in the middle of the regular season. 

“do you have a shoe preference?” patton hollers through the bathroom door.

“black ones!” virgil calls back. 

“is this a sneak method to make me look goth?” he calls, and he can hear virgil’s snort through the door. 

“just for today,” he calls.

“am i a crow?”

“raven, actually, but there’s a specific one, you’ll realize it soon enough,” virgil says, and patton opens the door to see virgil gathering up his own swaths of dark fabric in his arms, cocoa sitting politely at his feet. patton does a little spin to show off.

virgil smiles, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “you look great.”

“thanks,” patton says, and flaps his arms, and the duster makes it look like wings. “i really like this coat.”

virgil’s smile turns a bit more pleased. “thanks.”

“okay,” patton decides, and makes some last-minute adjustments, making sure his costume sits on him right, and virgil reaches out to correct his collar. “i’ll go out on the porch, just come on out when you and cocoa are ready, yeah?”

he presses a kiss to virgil’s lips, and the last thing he sees is virgil ducking down to cocoa’s level, unearthing a dress-looking thing.

he tries to brainstorm what it is, even as he gives out generous handfuls of candy to the tiny, toddling members of sideshire—mostly toddler-aged kids, at this time, so they don’t have to stay up late—exclaiming over mermaids and superheroes and princesses and witches and ghosts and video game characters, winking at them when he slips them extra.

when their parents ask after him, what exactly he is, he simply shrugs, beaming, before sending the kids on to the next house.

the sun’s just dipped below the horizon when he hears the door open, and the familiar click-click-click of cocoa’s nails on hardwood, then on the porch.

patton whistles lowly, and pats his lap, craning his neck to see her.

she does, indeed, look very cute. patton had been right—it had been a dress, with a kind of vest, maybe, and a tiara nestled amongst the fake flowers on her head that’s already knocked askew.

“you look so cute, baby girl!” patton gushes, getting onto his knees, all the better to pet cocoa without dislodging her costume and to adjust her tiara—it’s ringing a bell in his head, what exactly she is, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

that is, until—

“the princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her,” virgil’s voice rumbles, and patton looks up and immediately feels his mouth go dry. “but, before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. or, uh. prick her paw, i guess.”

patton makes a noise that kind of sounds like guh?

virgil is... wow. he’s dressed in sweeping black robes that make him look taller and slimmer than he already is, imposing, somehow, absolutely towering over everything in sight. the robes have a v neck and a pointed, sharp collar that brings attention to the horns emerging from his head. his cheekbones are absolutely chiseled, his lips ruby red, his skin pale and smooth and flawless, his hair—what peeked forth from the horns, anyway—dark and lush and just begging for patton to run his fingers through it.

there’s only peeks of skin—his hands, his neck, a bit of his chest, his face, of course—but he looks so...

patton tries to swallow as he rises to his feet, mouth slightly agape.

virgil’s lips—so red, so full—quirk, and he adjusts his robes, looking self-conscious. “it doesn’t look that bad, does it?” he asks cautiously.

patton reaches up, and scratches lightly through the thin, delicate hairs at the nape of virgil’s neck. he shivers.

and then patton tugs virgil down to his level, and tries his best to kiss him absolutely silly. he threads his fingers through whatever bits of virgil’s hair he can grab, tugging him close, the other closing possessively over virgil’s hip and he just pulls him in, as hot and close and tight as he possibly can, and virgil’s lips part under his and he tastes like snuck chocolate and caramel and nougat, and he bites at virgil’s lip, almost half-hoping it’ll taste like what the color reminds him of—candy-coated apples.

when patton manages to let go of him, once he’s at least a little satisfied his emotions on virgil’s costumes have been almost-adequately conveyed, he leans back to see virgil’s slightly-smeared lip gloss that sends a thrill up patton’s spine.

“oh,” virgil says breathlessly.

“yeah,” patton says, grinning, “oh.”

somehow, they manage to haul out the two rocking chairs and sit out on the porch for the express purpose of ease of access for trick-or-treaters without patton getting distracted, though he does, for most of the rest of the time they wait for the ebb and flow of floods of kids, keep a hand on virgil’s knee, occasionally squeezing virgil’s thigh.

virgil flushes, just a bit, behind his makeup. he ends up fixing up his lips, and making sure that there aren’t any remnants on patton’s face that give away what they’d been doing, lest any of the children ask why maleficent had been kissing her raven, diaval, as they looked up from petting sleeping beauty.

and, as the promised time inches closer and closer, patton can’t stop himself from fidgeting, and virgil snickers.

“excited?” he teases.

“don’t pretend you haven’t planned out all of logan’s favorite meals for the weekend,” patton says, unable to stop his own smile at the thought—since logan’s birthday is on sunday, he’s come home early with one of the default absences that his lecture professor on friday’s given him, and roman’s coming home, too, so the kids will be around and they might have a big dinner with isadora (and probably one with his parents) but he’ll be able to spend time with his son. 

their daily phone calls are great, true, but he’s missed just hanging out with logan—their companionable silences, seeing his son furrow his brow with interest when he reads a book or an article, the meaningful, wordless quirks of his brow or twists of his lips that patton’s spent eighteen-almost-nineteen years deciphering—so he’s just. he’s really excited.

when the first guests come—emile and remy, dressed up as steven and connie—patton welcomes them perhaps a bit too eagerly as cocoa barks, tail wagging wildly, and patton tries to correct her tiara again. 

he throws himself into hosting as virgil handles the last of the trick-or-treaters that’ll be face-to-face—he makes sure their spooky cauldrons of punch are full, that the platters of themed snacks that virgil had spent most of the day preparing (and mostly preventing patton from eating) are out from the fridge and ferried about the room, and that everyone is having a good time, that he greets everyone and exclaims over their costumes, before—

cocoa starts barking excitedly from the porch, and patton grins, setting down the platter on the nearest available surface and dashing for the door, half-hanging off the ledge in order to see virgil letting logan out of a hug, and tugging roman into an awkward, one-armed kind of thing.

“kiddo!” patton says eagerly, and wraps his arms tightly around logan’s shoulders. logan tolerates it with something less than his usual stiffness—he hugs him back, and patton draws back to grin at him.

“happy halloween.”

“happy halloween,” logan repeats, and patton takes a look at him. he’s wearing a suit, and a dapper hat, and he’s holding a candy cigarette between his fingers, the box with the rest of them tucked away in his breast pocket.

“who—?”

“walter burns, from his girl friday.”

patton snorts, just a bit, because of course logan stuck so stubbornly to his interests for a halloween costume, before he looks for roman—who has matched with logan, as hildy johnson, because last year they’d dressed up as two prince charmings and it’s logan’s year to pick—and hooks him into a hug, too.

“i tried convincing him to do black-and-white makeup, but he wouldn’t go for it,” roman says.

“we were already running late,” logan begins, and they barely pause in their bickering to pet cocoa—patton’s given up in keeping her tiara and flowers straight on her head—before they disappear inside, and patton turns to virgil, grinning.

“happy halloween,” virgil says, and leans down to kiss him on the cheek, and patton beams up at him.

“happy halloween.”

(patton doesn’t wash off the bright red lip print on his cheek until he’s getting ready for bed that night.)