#i swear i Do draw stuff other than logan

[orbmanson7]

Anyway, have another Logan doodle page

[witchlyboo]

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

[fruitcoops]

I usually don't like angsty stuff but I love it with a happy ending and I've been THINKING....

O'Knutzy... one of the boys, let's say Logan, has a nightmare where Finn tells him he doesn't love him anymore and because of that the relationship between the three doesn't work anymore and he loses both of them.

But than he wakes up they cuddle and kiss and everything is fine

This was a rough one to write, but very cathartic. O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for night terrors, crying, and insecurity

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. “Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

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

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

What is a happy ending?

So someone (looks sternly at @rondoel) thought giving me insight in a certain OC of theirs and making me feel things is an okay thing to do. That I won't proceed to write a heartbreaking epilogue to my two part Virgil king story. This one not as long. But still. Enjoy:

What is a happy ending?

"Why happily ever after?" King wondered aloud as He studied their latest piece of art.

No one had ever answered that question for Him. Not in a meaningful way at least. And it never truly stopped bothering Him.

"Your majesty?" Anxiety asked carefully. Probably not sure if he had been meant to hear. King wasn't so sure Himself.

Oh well. He might as well finish the thought. Something interesting might come from it.

"Happily ever after. It's so... boring. Why does everyone like it so much?" He had wondered so often...

Anxiety shrugged. "Princey loved that crap. He hated it when I called out the flaws, though he could be just as bad with plot holes.

It's not realistic at all and... well boring is one word for it." His tone and face could almost be mistaken for dismissive, but King could swear He spotted fondness in the upturn of Anxiety's mouth and a slight wistfulness in the shine of his eyes.

King however was more interested in this more nuanced perspective on the story trope. Answers at last?

Anxiety noticed his king desired for him to elaborate and immediately started fidgeting as he tried to find the words to express his thoughts sufficiently.

"I suppose... everyone thinks that's what they want?" His nerves turn the sentence into a question. "When they are little it's an easy goal. You find the one who'll make you whole, or defeat the villain, or both. And then nothing ever bothers you again.

It's not how life works though... and growing up... I think everyone still has a part of them that wants to hold on to things being that... simple..." Anxiety trailed off and looked up at king curiously. His face strangely focused as if he was looking for an answer himself.

"Simple?" King urged wanting to hear more. Anxiety was so close to making sense. So close to bringing about that wonderful feeling when curiosity was sated. A story complete at last.

"Um... yeah... I mean even I feel a little... I don’t know... it feels right?

When you do the right thing, even when it's hard and you get the stuff you want anyway. And when people who hurt you don’t win. You want the world to work like that. If not for you then at least for the servant girl, who just wanted a night off, or the waitress who just wanted to buy her father's dream restaurant. Hard work, kindness, patience... they should be rewarded right?" Anxiety explained. Sounding frustrated. "And..." he let out a resigned sigh before straightening up and continued more decidedly. "Since the world doesn't work that way... why not escape somewhere where it does?" It was passionate. Perhaps in defense of Roman's favorite thing in the world. Then that fight and righteous defiance fell away in favor of a nostalgic fondness. "Thomas did it all the time growing up," Anxiety sighed before returning his attention to the painting that had prompted the question. A Father's Day movie night.

Hugs and snacks and movies with happily ever afters galore. All of Morality's favorite things.

King had to admit it had... stung to discover that Morality had taken up the role He'd given him even after he betrayed everything that title stood for.

Had he ever felt even the slightest bit conflicted when hearing Roman calling him 'Padre'?

Or was it supposed to be fine, since he thought Roman was the only half of Him who felt attached to him that way?

Had it truly never occurred to him that while he took in the confused Roman, he left behind a disoriented and heartbroken Remus who didn't understand why daddy was ignoring him.

What had he done wrong?

Why did he never get bedtime stories or hugs from dad? Why was he shoved away, scolded, ignored?

Why was he not allowed to play in the imagination with his brother?

The last thought had plagued both halves for years.

Even Roman who had stopped admitting to it to please Morality felt conflicted during story times and hugs to this day.

Telling Thomas that he didn't want anything to do with his brother had hurt more than the bump on his head...

But all of that was in the past. They were gone and their unresolved issues were a waste of His time. He had berated, tormented, Anxiety over this. He would not fall victim to such sentimentalities Himself.

"I see... escapism then?" He muttered, trying to get back on topic and not to show the... somewhat emotional turn His thoughts had taken.

Like His halves, His 'Padre' was gone. He probably never existed in the first place.

And Morality would pay for that betrayal and the way he abandoned Remus and how he made Roman fight to earn his love, only to abandon him as well. His suffering had only just begun.

Not because it still mattered. But... any excuse to justify and fuel His wrath even a little bit more was good enough for Him.

He'd probably avenge slights against his minister simply to feign kinship and watch the traitors squirm under his rule just a bit more. Not that he needed a reason to do anything. But justified rage was so much more satisfying to set loose. Because the targets would feel, deep down, they brought this upon themselves.

"Yeah... there's enough crappy stuff going on in the world right? Thomas... wants to use his talents to make people smile. And while that's cheesy, it's also... well it's him," Anxiety shrugged. King hummed in agreement as He framed the picture and put it away. He'd barely paid attention honestly. The answer was satisfactory. But there was a new question on His mind. As He mused over His minister's attachments to His enemies and how to sever them He recalled something intriguing about his recent behavior.

Anxiety had been pulling away from Morality. Why? What had caused a crack in 'the bestest most dynamicest duoest duo'?

And was this something he could use to forge an allegiance. Or to hurt Morality as deeply as He'd been hurt. Or, ideally, both?

King smirked to Himself as He laid a gentle hand on Anxiety's shoulder. He asked about a drawing of the young side and Thomas. He was pleased to note that His minister no longer shrank away every time He moved in his general direction. He might not be comfortable with His touch yet, but he was getting used to it. Something that would surely get to the others who still tiptoed around Anxiety's boundaries.

Maybe, at some point, he could be made to truly see things His way. To see the traitors for the villains they were. Just the thought of the chaos that this realization would unleash... It would be magnificent.

Morality had forgotten something important about 'happily ever after's.

Bad guys don’t get them. And the victor is always the hero.

It was only right that King reminded him of the shadow side of his favourite ending.

By making him live it.

Virgil knew that it was a bad thing that he found himself enjoying talking about his memories to the king and watching them turn into pretty cool paintings.

He was Anxiety, this was definitely a crisis. He can't relax now, not around the reason of said crisis... but if he doesn't relax a little his thoughts might do something really bad. And if he doesn't do whatever the king wants, then the king might do something bad.

So he had to balance on this weird edge of anxious, but cool with it.

The others were counting on him. To stay safe, to keep it together, to keep King distracted, to find a way to get him to lay off a little...

"Worthless." And... the thing is back.

"Dude, seriously, not now!" He snapped at his... shadow.

King just looked on intrigued. Great. Now the shadow had King's attention.

"Failure," it hissed. Right... King is not his biggest problem right now.

So far the shadow had only been mildly annoying even quiet for the most part. But clearly anxious thoughts made it remember it could be a pain in the behind. And worst thing is it got to Virgil even more because it laid out his true fears for King to see and use against him.

"You... you are just... you're just a thought. You can't hurt me." Virgil insisted.

Thomas could deal with his irrational fits. Surely he could manage this thing, right?

"Monsssster," the shadow hissed. No he didn't think that anymore!

"Guardian!" Virgil bit back. Patton said so, Logan said so, Roman said so, Thomas said so... why cant he just believe them?

He found himself struggling to breath again. The thoughts... they were real now... what if they could hurt him...? Can he die? What would happen to Thomas?

"Begone!" Virgil snapped out of his near attack at the sudden outburst from King.

What...?

He looked up just in time to see a flash of metal and shadow's dissolving figure.

"It'll reform later," King muttered as he sheeted his sword.

"It became too bothersome. You should not let your creations have power over you young one. You are their master, don't forget that," he instructed calmly, not looking at him.

Did he just...?

"Return to your business now, I find that I am in need of a break," he then declared as he walked away, still not looking back.

"But..." he came to a halt. "Should you wish to finish our gallery... I might be willing to indulge your presence later."

Virgil didn't quiet know what to do, so he bowed, just in case the king could see it somehow. "Y-yes my king. Thank you," he stammered hurriedly.

When he looked up, the king was gone.

And Virgil ran. He needed to find Lo and Pat before the shadows returned.

His thoughts were a confused mess... he hadn't imagined that right?

King had really stepped in to save him instead of letting Virgil's punishment, gift, curse, whatever run its course...

And then he left it up to Virgil to decide if and when they'd finish up.

There was probably some messed up reason behind it... but still.

Virgil wasn't stupid though. Even if saving him had been a purely noble impulse, King hadn't undone his 'gift' to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Telling him to put his foot down with 'his own creations' didn't really count.

King still messed up real bad and would have to do something pretty impressive to make up for all of that.

And Virgil was pretty sure that it wasn't just his pessimism talking when he thought that the king was no where close to wanting to make nice with any of them.

Or not for the right reasons anyway.

He shook his head. He can worry about all that later. Right now he has to find the others. Before King runs into one of them.

Virgil's trip down memory lane might've been deemed 'entertaining' or whatever, but he hadn't be around for whatever had happened to make the king be out for blood in the first place.

He didn't want to find out what King's idea of 'having fun' was when it came to Pat, Lo or even Janus. Whatever they did, it was still his duty to protect Thomas. Physically, socially, mentally and emotionally. Whether he wanted him to or not.

And not even King was going to stop him from fulfilling his purpose.

@antiredhuman you wanted to be tagged if I wrote more for this au so here you go! Hope you like it!

[izzyfandoms]

I just have to -

Imagine all the sides +Thomas, Remy and Emile playing Among Us.

With Patton and Emile as the imposters.

(This ended up,,, slightly longer than I meant it to. This features all of the mentioned characters and also Remile cos I couldn't help myself)

Among Us

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

In almost every game so far, Logan had died first. He was smart, and in almost every game that he hadn't died, he'd managed to figure out who the imposters were and won the game for a crew.

He was a terrible liar, so always lost as the imposter, but when he wasn't he was usually killed off, so the imposters could give themselves a better chance of winning.

That was what Emile had planned to do, the moment he'd seen he'd gotten imposter, but the instant the game had started, his boyfriend, Remy, had started following him around the map. There was a safety in numbers, Remy had claimed, with the baby he had named 'Starbucks' trailing behind him.

Luckily, it seemed that Patton had had the same idea, as he killed Logan around the same time that Emile lured Remy into Medbay and killed him, too.

And when Thomas found Remy's body, starting the discussion that made them all unmute their microphones and start their conversation of accusations and chaos, Remy immediately started texting Emile.

His texts ranged from the word 'bitch' in all caps, to the statement 'ngl that was pretty hot tho' which made it very difficult for Emile not to burst out giggling and give himself away.

"I think it's Janus," Virgil accused immediately.

"Bitch!" Janus exclaimed. "You say that every time!"

"Yeah, but this round you're acting sus."

"I am not. How dare you accuse me? It must be you, then," Janus said. "I think it might be Virgil and Roman. Virgil is being very accusatory, and I saw Roman walking with Logan at the start of the game."

Roman gasped. "You fiend! I am a hero, I would never kill Logan. I parted ways with him in Storage, and went to Navigation after that. Patton, you passed me, can you vouch for me?"

"I can!" Patton said. "I did see you, Ro." He paused for a moment, like he was thinking something over. "Sorry, Jan," he said, in a very convincing, sheepish voice. "I think Virgil's right."

"Yes!" Virgil said.

"Excuse me?" Janus said in an offended tone of voice.

"You were following me earlier, Jan!" Patton continued. "It was scary, so I ran away, and I guess you stopped when you saw you couldn't catch up!"

"I simply had a task in that direction," Janus said. "I think it might it be you, Patton."

"Nah, nah, it's me!" Remus cackled.

Thomas sighed. "He's been saying that every round, we should just ignore it."

"But he was right a few times!" Emile piped up. "Maybe he is the imposter?"

"He can't be," Janus argued. "I was with him that whole round, and there were two bodies, meaning both of the imposters got to kill."

"It might be both Janus and Remus," Thomas said.

"Exactly," Virgil said firmly. "I'm gonna vote Janus off first, then, when we're right, we can get rid of Remus."

Emile watched his screen, as the notification popped up that Virgil had voted, immediately followed by ones from Roman and Thomas, too.

"Me, too," Thomas said.

"And me!" Roman added.

"Yeah, sorry, Jan," Patton apologised, voting, too.

Janus voted next, followed immediately by Remus, and then Emile voted as well. Janus had voted for Patton, Remus had voted for himself, and then rest of them had all voted for Janus.

As Janus was thrown out of the airlock, the rest of them heard a sound like him slamming his hands against his desk.

It was followed by the distant sound of the word 'bitch!' like he had leant away from the mic to say that. Emile muted his mic as it was revealed that Janus was not the imposter, and covered his hand with his mouth, giggling into his palm, as he heard a muffled swear from Virgil, just before the rest of them muted their mics, too.

Emile sabotaged the reactor as soon as he could, and followed as the rest of the remaining players went over there to fix it and keep themselves alive. He waited in the area, as all of the others but Thomas wandered away, and then killed Thomas the moment he could.

He waited a few seconds, before reporting the body, and the discussion period started up again.

"Where was it?" Patton asked.

"Reactor," Emile said. "I just saw him there, but I went to the lower engine to do a task, and when I came back he was dead! The imposter must've vented. Poor Thomas."

"It's the twins," Virgil accused instantly. "It's gotta be."

Roman let out an exaggerated, highly offended gasp. "Excuse me! I think it's you and my fiend of a twin! I didn't see you all round, except for in the reactor. Perhaps you were hiding in the vents. We all know that's what you do when you're evil."

Remus cackled. "I think it's Pat! Didn't know daddy had it in him."

"I don't think it's Remus," Emile said. "Janus backed him up, and he was innocent, so I think Remus is, too."

"Yeah..." Patton agreed. "I think it's Virgil and Roman."

"I agree," Emile said.

"I'm voting for Roman," Virgil said. The notification that he'd voted popped up immediately afterwards.

Emile smiled, and stifled a laugh with the palm of his hand. Though he had a reputation for being sweet, especially in games you played with friends, there was something very fun about being the imposter in Among Us.

Especially as no one ever seemed to suspect him. He and Patton were similar in that way, and made a great team.

"Sorry, Virge..." Patton said.

He voted, and Emile didn't feel the need to say anything as he voted for Virgil, too.

There was a beat.

And then Remus voted for himself.

As expected, Virgil had voted for Roman, and the other three votes had been for him.

As Virgil's character was launched out of the ship, he said: "Well, we've just lost that," in a flat tone of voice.

"Ha-ha! You're just upset that we caught you, imposter! And we're voting Remus off next."

"Not what I meant, Princey."

Then, the words 'stormcloud was not An Imposter' flashed across the screen.

"Oh," Roman said.

The game ended, with the imposters winning and being revealed to have been Patton and Emile all along.

Emile started laughing as everyone else unmuted their microphones.

"Baby, how could you!" Remy laughed.

Logan sighed. "I knew it was Patton, he faked a task in front of me. It took him approximately three seconds less than it should have, and the task bar didn't go up when he was done. I could not have called him out on it, though, as he killed me and vented to medbay."

"Yeah, yeah," Roman sighed, and Emile could practically hear him waving his hand dismissively. "You're a genius, we get it."

"And," Logan continued. "When I saw that Remy was dead, too, I knew it was Emile before he told me, as the two of them walked off together at the start. Remy's play style is always to stick with one other person, so Emile was the only one who could've done it."

"I just can't believe Patton lied so well and fooled us all," Thomas said.

"Yeah," Virgil said. "How'd you manage that?"

Patton giggled. "I've been playing a lot with Janus, he's been teaching me."

"I regret that now," Janus said. "I created a monster."

[lumosinlove]

Coast To Coast

part iv

(Takes place just before Sweater Weather part xiii’s trip to Florida...and everything else.)

Gryffindor, 2019

Finn knew that it was natural, to be homesick. He remembered being homesick, calling his brother before he had any real friends on the team, just to have another, familiar voice to listen to while he heated up some take-out leftovers in the microwave. But it was different, watching Leo go through it.

“It’s just the cold,” Leo always said with a little shrug, gathering his sweatshirt in his hands, but Finn knew that wasn’t just it. They were about three months into the season, right when the newness had started to ware off for him, too, and Finn could tell that, even if Leo was enjoying himself, he got down at night. He’d go out onto their balcony, bundled to all hell despite it being what Finn considered a relatively mild 50 degrees, as if to recreate some heat, and look up.

Finn usually sat inside, but tonight he followed him.

“Big city, huh?” he said, handing Leo a cup of hot chocolate. At Leo’s suspicious look, he laughed. “I can make this! My brother taught me when I was little.”

“Why do I feel like you had this for dinner sometimes before I came along to cook for you,” Leo smiled into the mug, and took a sip. “Hm. Alright, it’s good.”

“Damn,” Finn said, leaning against the railing, “Nut approved. Knapproved.”

Leo winced, murmuring a, “Please no,” but he laughed anyway and took another sip.

The sound of the city below them seemed far away just then. The lights reflected up and into Leo’s blond hair, flashing red and blue across his face. Finn could only just make out the small patch that was streaked with gray in the dim light. Not for the first time, Finn wanted to reach out and brush his fingers through it.

“Can’t see the stars here,” Leo said suddenly. He glanced down at the lights below them, then back up to the sky. “Not like you can at home.”

Finn looked up. “Guess I never thought about it. Can’t see them in New York really.”

Leo didn’t reply, and Finn looked over at him. His brows were drawn together and he was clutching his cup close to his chest.

“I used to have those those little stars, though,” Finn said quickly. Suddenly, he would do anything to get rid of the hurt etched on Leo’s face. “You know, the ones you stick on the ceiling that glow in the dark? Had those when I was a kid.”

That drew a small smile from Leo, and the knot growing in Finn’s chest loosened a little. “Yeah?”

Finn moved closer to him. Even upset, Leo radiated a stable sort of force that Finn felt at home in.

“Yeah,” Finn said softly. “We could get those. In your room, I mean. Or anywhere. Or, like, string lights. Live your best college life and get string lights. I swear to God, there were more string lights in me and Tremz’s frat house than there were, like, dishes. People. One night stands. Those are…sort of star-like.”

Finn watched Leo nod slowly, eyes still on the sky. He blinked a few more times, as if considering the stars, and then turned to Finn.

“I’d like that, Harzy.”

The knot loosened further, and Finn smiled, putting a hand to Leo’s shoulder over his sweatshirt. “We’ll get them tomorrow. After practice.”

“Bringing the stars to me, eh?”

“I’d get you some real ones if I could,” Finn said immediately, and then clamped his mouth shut. That sounded too—too close to what was really happening inside of him.

Leo looked at him, too, eyebrows drawn together.

“What?”

“Like—” Finn turned to face forward, eyes flicking over the city. “Like real stars? Like—gas. But in a safe way.”

Leo stared at him for another second, and then laughed, nose scrunching. “Safe gaseous stars, huh?”

“Yeah,” Finn drummed his fingers against his cup. “I mean, supernovas are pretty, too.”

“You’re not wrong,” Leo leaned against the railing, staring down.

Finn hesitate only a second, watching the tense curve of Leo’s shoulders rise as he took a large breath, and then leaned beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Want to talk about it?” Finn said quietly.

Leo raised a shoulder. “Just hard sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. Gryffindor, the Lions, living with you. I don’t know what I would be doing right now if I was just in some hotel room by myself.”

Finn laughed. “Yeah, that’s not a fun part of this. I’m glad I could help you skip that. I…” Finn shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d be doing all alone, either.”

Leo was silent, brows scrunched like he was thinking about something, trying to figure something out. Finn watched carefully, using the view of the city as an excuse. Through the reflecting lights, he noticed the fine strands of grayish hair that mingled with the blond, right at the front of Leo’s forehead again.

“You hit your head?” Finn asked before he could stop himself.

Leo looked at him. “What?”

“Here,” Finn reached up and brushed his fingers over the hair near one temple. It was soft, like he had thought it would be.

“Oh,” Leo nodded minutely. “I fell on our boat when I was five. It was pretty bad.”

“You have a boat?” Finn said. He was close enough to feel Leo’s soft breathing now. He hadn’t known when they had moved, or who had moved first, but Leo’s eyes were flicking between Finn’s eyes and his mouth, drawing Finn’s to do the same.

“Yeah,” Leo whispered.

Finn’s mouth felt dry. “Can I come on your boat?”

“Yeah,” Leo smiled a little, but his eyes were serious, curious. “Finn…”

“Yeah?” Finn whispered back.

He watched Leo swallow, wetting his lips as he chose his words. “Are,” he began. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Even as he said it, Leo ducked down a little, like he couldn’t help it, and their lips brushed. It sent a strange mixture of emotions through Finn. Guilt and want turned into confusion, which was pushed away by Leo’s blue, comforting eyes, reflecting brightly in the dark.

“Can I?” Finn asked, and even then, Leo’s hand was curling around the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Leo managed to breathe out before their mouths were pressing together, Finn’s heart leaping. Leo kissed soundly, like each one of his movements had a purpose.

Finn couldn’t help but think of Logan, who kissed with a burning fever. The two mingled together in his brain for a moment, but the more Leo kissed him, the more he felt a calm wash over him. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before, and it was something Finn only associated with Leo. If Logan was a hurricane, keeping him close, Leo was a steadily rocking boat, lulling him and pulling him like a tide.

Finn craved—both.

Fuck.

How does a hurricane meet a tide, and what did that make him?

Finn made a noise when Leo’s other hand pressed around his back, making Leo gasp in return. Finn pressed his free hand to Leo’s chilly cheek, and licked into his mouth, letting himself be pressed against the railing by Leo’s lean body. He could smell the chocolate rising with the steam from their cups, and he didn’t think he’d ever smell that scent the same way again. Chocolate, once meaning snow and skating, meant Leo now. The same way that rum and sugarcane meant Logan.

“Finn—” Leo gasped. “Finn.”

“Is this a lot?” Even as he said it, they pressed together for a last kiss. “Sorry, fuck.”

“No, no, this is amazing,” Leo laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck me, I’m kissing Finn O’Hara, but…”

Finn’s stomach flipped. “But?”

“Logan,” Leo said simply.

Finn’s eyes widened. “You like Logan?”

Leo raised an eyebrow, confused. “You like Logan.”

“Oh.”

Leo blinked at him. “Right?”

“I…It’s more—it’s…more complicated than that. Hang on, how the fuck?”

“What?”

“How the fuck did you know?”

“You…I don’t know I just,” Leo shrugged, setting his drink on the railing. “Maybe it’s because I’m gay, too, I see the way you look at each other.”

“I’m not gay,” Finn said.

Leo looked at his mouth, still red from making out.

“No, no,” Finn laughed. “I mean like—you’re hot, but June’s hot. Kasey’s hot, and Natalie’s hot…everyone’s really hot.”

Leo’s eyes widened. “June.”

“No, no, no,” Finn shook his head. “That’s different.”

“What?”

Finn groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He set his drink beside Leo’s, turning to face the city for a moment, and then looked at Leo again. “June’s not my girlfriend.”

Leo shook his head slowly. “Um. Okay, we’ll come back to that later but, you might want to let some people know that. Like Logan. Like—”

Leo swallowed. Like me. He couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted and placed on his chest at the same time. Finn kissed him. Finn wanted him? He didn’t know.

“I know, that’s why I’m stupid.”

Leo took a step back, out of Finn’s reach. “Why did you kiss me?”

Finn’s cheeks flushed in the darkness. “It’s—complicated.”

Leo stared at Finn, his blue eyes confused and a little guarded now that they were talking rather than kissing.

“This is a lot of information,” Leo said slowly, and Finn nearly whined.

He clutched at his chest. “Yeah, well it’s a hell of a lot of feelings, too.” He paused, staring at Leo. “I don’t know what’s going on. My brain’s a lot. So is my—” Finn blinked, and suddenly his eyes were shining, voice cracking. “So is my heart. Leo, I—”

Leo looked at Finn. Finn reached out, and then moved to pulled his hands back to his chest.

But Leo caught them. “Just talk to me, Harzy.”

Finn’s hands squeezed his own, a surprised little pulse. “Logan never wants to talk about it.”

Leo’s heart pounded as he held Finn’s hands in his own. “If he’s scared…of course he doesn’t.”

Finn nodded and then looked down, eyes searching. “In…in college, we sort of��yeah.”

“Are either of you out to anyone?”

“I’m not,” Finn sighed. “Well, you two. I don’t think Logan is either.”

“You don’t know?”

“Like I said,” Finn said. “We don’t talk about this stuff.”

Leo nodded slowly. “Well…yeah, then all he’s got is the scary stuff, right? Coming out? Scary. Talking about it from one NHL player to another? Scary as fuck.”

“But you can talk about it.”

Leo smiled, small and endearing. “My family knows.”

Finn stared up at him. “How did you know they’d…”

“I didn’t,” Leo shook his head. “Even when they had the best fucking reaction in the world I still didn’t believe it. But they proved it to me, you know?” Leo glanced at his bracelet, and Finn’s eyes followed. “And suddenly it didn’t matter so much that I would have to hide going into the League. I felt like I could make it happen one day, coming out, even if it isn’t while I’m an eighteen year old rookie,” Leo’s eyes were serious and he squeezed Finn’s hands. “My point is…the people who will be horrible…they’re one sort of demon when you’re alone. It’s a different story when you know, like, sure fucking fact know, that people love you.”

“Lo…” Finn nodded slowly. “Lo doesn’t know?”

Leo shook his head. “Harzy…you don’t know, either.”

“Me?” Finn said. “I—I mean, I…” Finn cleared his throat. “I want to talk about it.”

“And you haven’t been able to,” Leo took a step closer, hand on Finn’s shoulder. “And—you know, I understand if…if you’re just frustrated with Logan and…” Leo took a breath, heart squeezing painfully. “Yeah, like, Harzy, I’m always here to talk to.”

Leo could be an outlet for Finn. He could do that.

Finn looked down at Leo’s hands cradling his. “Logan and I, there are years there. We’ve been skating around each other for…God. Knutty,” Finn looked up at him. “I’ve been in love with Logan for seven fucking years. I thought something was wrong with me when I started…” Finn just looked at Leo, eyes pleading, as if needing him to understand something.

Leo nodded silently, aching. That was history. That was history that had bones, history that had gears that ran one way and one way only. Finn’s it’s complicated kiss to Leo was nothing more than Finn being fed up. Leo didn’t blame him. Everyone needed someone.

“Right,” Leo managed. “Have you told him that? That you love him?”

Finn shook his head. “Not—Fuck, only barely and when we were fighting about it.”

“You need to tell people you want them, Harz, if you want to be with them.”

Finn chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah, I do. Yeah. You’re right.”

Leo wanted to pull away then. This was exactly what he had always been afraid of, only worse. He didn’t just like a teammate, he liked two teammates who liked each other. Not him.

“Well, maybe while we’re in Florida or something, huh?” Leo tried to laugh and stepped back. He wanted to go inside. He wanted to close the door of his room. He could make an excuse, that he had to pack for the roadie to Florida tomorrow. Maybe cry for a little and then go to sleep. Maybe call his mom, just let it out.

He sighed, thinking about that call. Hi mama, yeah, remember my home and roadie roommates? Well, I really like them. They love each other. I did exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. Doubled. Isn’t that fantastic?

“It’s cold,” Leo rasped out, ducking away from Finn. “We should go inside.”

“Leo—”

“I’ll take our cups in,” Leo snatched the mugs from the railing, before disappearing through the sliding glass door.

Leo dumped them in the skin, hearing Finn walk carefully into the house behind him and close the door. He watched what was left of the dark chocolate seep down the drain for a moment, and then turned around. Finn was staring at him with a funny expression on his face. Leo, with the tears threatening in his throat, couldn’t stick around to figure it out.

“Night, Harz,” he said, and turned away. “Thanks for the stars.”

Leo’s bedroom felt chilly as he closed the door. He sat on his bed and pressed his elbows to his knees.

He had wanted to help his friend. That’s all this had to be. He let out a long breath, cheeks blowing out as his eyes burned. Blinking hurriedly, he picked up his phone. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and found his mom’s contact. He could be quiet. Finn wouldn’t listen, Finn wasn’t nosey like that—

There was a knock on his door and Leo froze, thumb still hovering over the call button, tears in his eyes. He felt seconds away from breaking down, and even the thought of speaking right now made him choke up with tears.

“Um,” his voice wavered and he let out a shaking breath. Fuck. “Just a sec.”

“Nut?” Finn’s voice came through the door.

“Yeah, hold on,” Leo wiped his face with the hem of his sweatshirt and sniffed. He looked at the mirror on his way to the door, but what was he suppose to do about his red eyes? He turned off his overhead light and flicked on his dimmer bedside one instead. He opened the door.

“Hi,” Leo said, and cleared his throat.

Finn walked right in and sat on the edge of his bed. He looked possibly more freaked out than he had before.

“Can you—sit?” Finn asked, looking at him carefully.

Leo wiped a hand over his nose in a way that he hoped wasn’t obvious and sat beside Finn, trying to ignore the way his heart pulled towards him.

“What’s up,” Leo said softly.

Finn didn’t speak for a few moments. He was rubbing his hands against the thighs of his sweatpants, and chewing on his lower lip.

“You said—” he began, and then laced his fingers, looking down at them. “I should tell the person I like, that I like them…”

Leo nodded. He tried to focus on anything but the heat radiating off of Finn through his sweatshirt.

“What if…” Leo heard Finn swallow before continuing. “What if it’s…persons. What if I like…persons?”

A sort of chill ran through Leo’s body, goosebumps raising on his neck. He could have shivered, if not for Finn.

Finn turned towards him. “Knutty.”

Leo didn’t look. He couldn’t look. He kept his eyes on the ground, eyebrows drawing together in attempt to fight off his suddenly growing hopes.

“Leo,” Finn said again, and then his hand was on Leo’s cheek, turning his face towards him. “Leo, do you understand?”

Leo looked at him, barely daring to breathe.

“Is that even allowed?” Finn sucked in a breath. “Is that horrible of me?”

Leo felt shaky. “Me?” he whispered.

Finn nodded hurriedly, hand moving to the back of Leo’s neck. “You.”

“Me and Logan?”

“Yes,” Finn whispered again, and then his hands dropped away. “God, that’s so…fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, what the fuck do I expect you to do with that?”

“Yes,” Leo said. The word felt like it tore from his lungs, and Finn looked up. They stared at each other.

“What?” Finn said.

“I—yes.”

“You mean…Logan? You like Logan?”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh at the question, even if it was choked off. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes briefly before nodding. He thought of Logan, asleep in the bed beside his on the road, permanent crease between his brows. He thought of his bright smile, rare lately, and the way he leaned into Leo, fitting into his body so easily on nights out when he’d had too much to drink. He thought of that strange, almost kiss, not three nights ago. He thought of watching Logan and Finn, sometimes from afar, sometimes from just across the table. He thought of the confusion that came with being pulled in two directions at the exact same time.

“Yes,” he said. “Fuck, I thought I was just…I felt so stupid. I told myself I wouldn’t get attached to any teammates ever. It would just be too hard. I knew it was hard, I’ve done it, and I never wanted to feel like that again.”

“Nut…” Finn said softly.

“But then you and Logan just show up and…Jesus, Harzy,” Leo shook his head. “What am I suppose to do?”

Finn’s eyes were wide, and then he let out a laugh. “What? Knutty, are you fucking kidding me?”

Leo laughed, too, shaking his head, tears back in his eyes.

“Oh my god, Nut,” Finn breathed, and then he had Leo’s face between his hands. “Oh my god…”

Finn’s kiss was bruising, and Leo held on tight for it, feeling every inch of tension uncoil from his shoulders.

FinnFinnFinnFinnFinn—

And Logan. Logan, hurting and not with them. Leo wanted him there.

“What if he says no?” Finn said suddenly. “Lo always said—he always said he never wanted to hide.”

Finn’s nervousness made Leo jumpy all over again. Now that they’d said it aloud, he ached for them. Both of them.

“You’ve seen him lately,” Finn said. “One second it’s like it has always been and the next…he can’t even look at me.”

“June,” Leo reminded Finn with a raised eyebrow, and Finn groaned, forehead against Leo’s shoulder.

“Fuck me,” Finn sighed. “How do I even begin to explain it to him, he’s going to murder me. In French.”

Leo laughed softly, and then, realizing that he could, wrapped an arm around Finn and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. Finn practically melted into it, and so Leo did it again, this time against his temple, then again on his cheek. Finn made a little noise that Leo swore was going to turn his heart inside out. He laughed as Finn all but burrowed against his chest, basically forcing himself into Leo’s lap. Leo pet a hand through his hair, Finn’s head resting in the crook of one of his elbows, the rest of him splayed the wrong way on the bed, feet by Leo’s pillows.

“Sweetheart,” Leo whispered before he realized, but he’d do it again to see the way Finn practically swooned. Finn reached a hand up, tracing Leo’s jaw lightly.

“I see the way he looks at you,” Finn said softly, fingers brushing Leo’s mouth. “Broke my fucking heart for a while. At least until—until I started looking at you that way, too. Fuck me, I didn’t understand it at all. Who does this? Who wants two people at once?”

Leo raised a shoulder. “We do. Who cares about the rest?”

Finn stared up at him. “We—we can do this? We can be together.”

Leo nodded, smiling. “We can.”

“I just—We need to talk to him.”

“I think you should talk first,” Leo said, leaning into Finn’s touch. “Like you said. You two have a lot of history. That means a lot of conversation. And…that first part doesn’t really involve me.”

Finn chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He could still say no.”

“Well…I know he loves you, and…and I also know he very nearly kissed me the other night.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “Oh, man. Logan is a specialist in almost kissing. Fuck.”

Leo laughed and ducked for a kiss of his own. “I thought it was just you two taking your frustration out on someone else. But…maybe not.”

“Maybe not? Nut, come on.”

“You gotta explain that you don’t have a girlfriend—I’d also like an explanation by the way, like, I really like June, but she also sort of stomped on my heart and dick.”

A sly smile curled at one corner of Finn’s mouth. “Dick, huh?”

Leo looked away, grinning. “You sure are sweet, Harzy. Doesn’t help that I get to see you swinging around the locker room every day while you strut around naked.”

Finn sat up a little, hand curling around the back of Leo’s neck. “Oh yeah? Says the guy with the mile long fucking legs. Nut. Come on. How am I suppose to think away a hard-on while staring at those things?”

Leo snorted. “I thought I was an octopus.”

“You are,” Finn whispered, and then pulled Leo down and kissed him, then laughed into his mouth, letting his head fall back against Leo’s thighs and staring up at him. “Well, this is not what I expected when I brought you hot chocolate.”

“What, you don’t ask someone out every time you bring them a Starbucks or something?”

“Knowing me, you’d think I might,” Finn reached for Leo’s hand, holding it against his chest. “But no, that’s just you.”

“And Logan,” Leo smiled as Finn did. “Maybe you should bring him a coffee, or something.”

“You mean a sickly sweet—whatever he drinks. It’s not fucking coffee, that’s all I know.”

Leo pushed his hand through Finn’s dark red hair. “Harz, I hope this…I really want this.”

Finn closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into Leo’s touch, before he was sitting up suddenly. Leo laughed as Finn pushed him back against the bed, thighs on either side of Leo’s hips. Finn kissed him, hands on his chest, and Leo sunk into it.

“Me too,” Finn mumbled against his mouth. He trailed his mouth down to Leo’s jaw, lips soft. “Imagine if he was here.”

Leo couldn��t help the sigh, breathy and needy, that escaped as he fisted the back of Finn’s sweatshirt.

Finn pressed his hand to the other side of Leo’s neck, rubbing his thumb over the tendon softly. “There’s more of you to be kissed, huh?”

The thought of both Finn and Logan, kissing him, touching him—

He felt Finn laugh into his mouth as he pressed their hips together against Leo’s stiffening cock. “Hi, there.”

Leo groaned. “It’s been like— forever, okay? Forever. Once the NHL was interested I didn’t wanna risk—” Finn pushed down against him then, making Leo’s mouth drop open. “And you’re Finn O’Hara and you’re kissing my neck…”

Finn sucked gently on Leo’s throat. “Maybe we should end that forever.”

Leo let out a laugh that was half moan. Leo could feel Finn getting hard, too, and he was suddenly dizzy with him.

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn sounded a little breathless. “I like you turned on. That’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Leo’s cheeks were hot. “Yeah?”

Finn’s smile was soft. “Hey, kiss me again.”

Leo leaned up and tugged gently on Finn’s bottom lip with his teeth, watching his eyes widen with their noses brushing.

“Leo,” Finn’s voice was high with surprise and pleased sounding, muffled by Leo’s mouth.

Leo kissed him once, then rested his head back on the bed. “I…do you…” he glanced down at their hips where he could see the outlines of their cocks against their sweatpants.

Finn, poised on top of Leo, swallowed. “I’ve never…I mean, twice with Lo, but it was always—you know. Hands only. Kissing. Either we didn’t talk about it, or…I left for Gryffindor after the second time. It was,” Finn looked down at his hands, pressing a little on Leo’s chest. “I don’t know, we never even really took our clothes off and we were both sort of crying…”

Leo pressed up onto his elbows. “Finn…”

“I want to,” Finn said, looking at Leo with a small smile. “I want us to show him that it doesn’t have to be rushed and—silent.” Finn licked his lips, holding the one that had been between Leo’s teeth in his mouth for a moment, and then leaned forward, pushing Leo back down again and planting his hands on either side of his head. “Show me.”

A shiver went up Leo’s spine. He nodded, running his hands up and under Finn’s sweatshirt, palms smooth over the warm skin of his back.

“I am sort of half off the bed here,” Leo smiled.

“Huh?” Finn glanced behind him, at Leo’s legs still over the bed from when they had been sitting side by side. “Oh shit.”

Finn snorted as he scrambled up, landing with his back against Leo’s pillows. Leo stood, and looked. Finn’s mouth was kissed red, his hair was a mess. He would have looked sweet, if not for the fact that Leo could see his cock, tenting his sweatpants obscenely between his splayed thighs.

“Fuck, Harzy,” Leo said, rubbing a hand through his hair, pressing it over his hot neck.

“Can I…” Finn plucked at his sweatshirt.

“Let me,” Leo said, kneeling on the bed and walking himself slowly over and between Finn’s thighs. He sat back on his heels, coaxing Finn into a sitting position to. He leaned in and kissed him slowly.

“We have all night,” Leo reminded him softly, and then pulled away to lift Finn’s sweatshirt above his head. He had a gray Lions t-shirt underneath, and Leo bent to kiss what skin of Finn’s neck the sweatshirt had revealed, just above his collar, before pulling the t-shirt over his head, too.

Finn made a questioning noise, his hands on the hem of Leo’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah,” Leo said.

Finn pulled his lip between his teeth again. Leo’s t-shirt came with his sweatshirt, getting stuck for a moment and making them laugh, before they were both staring at each other, bare chested.

“You’re too tall like this,” Finn smiled, hands finding Leo’s bare waist and tugging. “Come closer.”

Leo eased Finn back against the pillows, balancing himself over him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the center of Finn’s chest, letting his lips drag, and pressing another one over his sternum. He glanced up. “Better?”

Finn nodded hurriedly, hand going to Leo’s hair. “Better.”

Leo kissed his way down Finn’s chest, feeling it rise and fall quicker as he went. He kissed the strong flex of his abs, the light dips between his ribs, and finally, his hips, just above the band of his sweatpants. Leo looked back up at Finn and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m, oh fuck,” Finn was flushed down to his chest. “I might come in like—point two seconds, okay?”

“Be my guest,” Leo said, and began to tug Finn’s sweatpants down—no underwear. “Fuck, Harz.”

“I was being relaxed.”

Finn’s cock bobbed free, the head swollen and leaking. The sight made Leo’s throb. He let out a breath, and so did Finn.

Leo reached out and smoothed his hand around the base, watching Finn’s hips stutter at the almost contact. Finally, Leo wrapped his hand around him, and gave a single, dry, pull.

Finn groaned softly from the head of the bed. “Fuck, baby.”

Leo’s eyes snapped to him, but Finn didn’t look surprised or embarrassed. His mouth was dropped open and he held out his arms. Leo went willingly, surging up to kiss him hard while Finn yanked at Leo’s sweatpants and underwear, shoving it down his legs far enough to kick them off.

Then, it was just them. Their cocks pressed together and Finn’s eyes practically rolled. Leo bent to suck a bruise into the tender skin below his ear as he rutted down against Finn, spurred on by the feeling of Finn’s blunt nails digging against his back.

“Yes,” Finn’s voice punched out of him and Leo felt his heels on the back of his thighs.

“What do you want?” Leo asked, breathless. He pulled back some and kissed Finn. “We can do whatever you want.”

“This,” Finn said against Leo’s cheek, mouth falling open again and hand tightening in his hair. “I want this.”

“C’mere,” Leo said, and pulled at Finn’s hip.

“What, you’re tired?” Even turned on as all hell, Finn managed to joke.

Leo only got them onto their sides, legs tangled, before Finn was pressing them together again and moaning. It was all Leo could do to think clearly.

“You said to show you,” Leo panted. “I’m showing you that we have all night. That we can do whatever we want, that you have me—”

Finn pressed against him, cocks wet together, with a gasp.

“I’m going to come,” Finn whispered, voice shaking as he gripped Leo’s ass to press them together harder. It Leo groan as his hand slipped close to his entrance. Finn blinked at him, eyes dazed and bright.

“You—do you like—”

Leo nodded.

“Jesus.”

Leo pressed a lingering kiss to Finn’s mouth. “Would you do that for me, Harzy?”

Finn’s hips stuttered, eyes squeezing shut and he came between them with a cry, stripping Leo’s chest thickly.

The sight, Finn’s sloppy kiss, and his hand brushing over his crease, had Leo following. Leo reached between them and closed a hand around them both, working them through their orgasms. He swore Finn’s nails would leave marks tomorrow. He felt Finn’s hand press against his lower back, and had a sudden thought of a broader heat there—Logan. Logan’s deep voice in his ear, pressed all along his back, maybe even slipping inside of him—

Leo’s hips twitched as his cock valiantly spurt out nothing, pleasure wracking him all the same.

Finn was breathing hard, eyes closed and head fallen back against Leo’s arm on the pillows. Leo smoothed a hand up his chest, uncaring of the mess, and leaned over him, limbs heavy, to kiss his bared throat.

This was what Finn never had. This is what he and Logan never thought they could have. The very best part. Being together, sated and loving and close. Leo caressed his hip, and his strong shoulder, lips gentle all the while. He did it until Finn’s breathing slowly began to even out, until a tear appeared at the corner of his eye, and trailed slowly down his temple.

Leo kissed that, too.

“‘M—” Finn began, and his voice cracked. “Just relieved,” he rasped out. “Just, so…” he let out a breath, and opened his eyes, glassy and golden brown. “Leo.”

“I know,” Leo said, nodding quickly. “Believe me, I know.”

“I loved that,” A sleepy, almost loopy smile crossed Finn’s face and he laughed, another tear appearing. “Fucking Christ.”

Leo laughed, nudging his forehead into the warm space of Finn’s neck and closing his eyes. “Me too.”

He felt Finn’s arms wrap around him, squeezing tightly like Leo saw him sometimes do to other players during a celly on the ice.

“Can we snuggle?” Finn asked sleepily.

“We better,” Leo kicked the blankets out from beneath them, Finn reached for his sweatshirt, mopping their chests before throwing it away into the room. They stayed like that, Finn on his back, Leo nestled against him, ankles tangled.

When they woke up the next morning, Leo was still in Finn’s arms, his back to Finn’s chest, and Finn was kissing his neck.

“Two things on the to do list,” Finn whispered against his skin once Leo had hummed happily and pressed against him. “Get you some stars…”

Leo laughed and Finn’s arms tightened around him.

“And knock some sense into Tremzy.”

Leo smiled, looking at the empty space in front of him. They were leaving for Florida today. Leo could wait to see Finn and Logan in the sunlight.

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/9

Additional Notes: Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick"

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Excerpt: Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

Despite last night's promise, Janus was different. Or rather, he was the same: flashing only a token smile at Patton as he draped himself artfully over the kitchen island.

From the moment Janus had set foot in the kitchen, Patton could feel the regression. It was written in the gentle boredom resting atop Janus' features, in the way he made a show of fussing with his capelet. Like he had better things to do, and anything, even the drape of his clothing, was higher priority than Patton.

It hurt, but Patton swallowed it down because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and did his best to make Janus feel welcome.

"Morning!" he said brightly, already reaching for the coffee pot. Despite last night's lack of sleep, he had awoken to his natural rhythm (which was, much to Logan's curiosity, separate from Thomas' own), and immediately set about consuming as much caffeine as he could get his hands on. It had worked its magic, to a certain degree, and Patton found the day much easier to face. "Coffee?"

Janus nodded without making eye contact, glancing instead over his shoulder, then leaning forward to look into the white fog where the hallway turned back into the subconscious. "Don't tell me the others are still sulking?"

That stung. Patton tugged at one of the friendship bracelets encircling his right wrist, reminded himself to be patient. "They're allowed to be upset," he said, polishing his tone to a gleaming, brassy shine.

"What about Virgil?" Janus asked. Patton frowned, remembering how distant he had been, and turned away from the coffee pot to face Janus.

Patton wasn't sure what he'd expected. Janus' face gave nothing away, but... could he be worried about seeing Virgil? Why else would he ask? "Virgil might wander in," Patton said cautiously. "He's a late sleeper."

Janus nodded, studying his nails with a nonchalant expression even though he was wearing gloves. Patton squinted, opened his mouth to speak, remembered something. "Right, coffee." He took a mug down from the cabinet by the refrigerator, choosing a pale blue one with a pink heart on it. They had lots of mugs because that was how a home should be. Extra everything for guests and travelers and family.

"I had forgotten about Virgil," Janus said quietly. "So he's still practically nocturnal?"

"Only sometimes," Patton admitted. Hopefully Virgil wouldn't mind his saying so. It wasn't like Janus was a stranger, after all. "Milk in your coffee?"

"I'll take care of it," Janus said. He was smiling and sitting up when Patton turned to hand him the mug, and although he was no longer draped over the kitchen island, he seemed more relaxed, somehow.

Patton sighed, relief coursing through him at the return of this Janus. His Janus. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," Janus said, and Patton wasn't sure whether to believe him. He was so guarded all the time. He never seemed to give anything up by accident. "I suppose you did as well?"

"Actually, I did," Patton said. He leaned over the kitchen island so he could face Janus, who had put his head down, staring fixedly into the shimmering black of his coffee. The set to his jaw was familiar, the refusal to look up. He looked embarrassed, although Patton couldn't fathom why. He decided to continue talking, to make the space more comfortable. "Yup, I fell asleep pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. Guess you could say I was frog tired." He winced, grateful that Janus wasn't looking at him, and pressed on. "Anyway! Want me to make you breakfast? I can do happy face pancakes better than Denny's."

"Better than Denny's?" Janus said, finally looking up. All traces of embarrassment were gone from his face; he turned his human side to Patton and gave a crooked smile. "Why, Patton, are you boasting?"

Reflexive shame warmed Patton's cheeks at the call out, but Janus was still smiling. Oh. He was teasing. "Better than Denny's," Patton affirmed. This was new territory, but it felt safe, somehow. Janus was being… Well, nice. Smiling and relaxed, he looked as at-ease as any of the others would. Like he belonged here.

"Who could say no to that?" Janus said. His snake eye lit up when he smiled, Patton noticed suddenly. It wasn't the same as the human side, but then, it was probably hard to get any expression at all out of the left side, what with the scales getting in the way.

Patton smiled, too, and for a moment, all his troubles seemed like distant things. But the respite didn't last and guilt turned in his stomach. He would make enough pancakes for everyone, and deliver them to Roman and Logan if they didn't show up. None of them technically needed to eat, being imaginary; none of them needed to do anything at all. But Patton liked to cook, and the thought of Roman and Logan sitting alone with nothing made his breath hitch. Yes, he would make enough for all of them and then some.

Neither Janus nor Patton made any attempts at conversation while Patton got all his ingredients together. Logan had told him the name for that, some Italian phrase, or maybe it was French. That sounded right. "Hey, Janus?" Patton called over his shoulder, tossing a bag of butterscotch chips onto the counter.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what this is called?" Patton asked, already transitioning to the fridge for the whipped cream.

There was a pause. "...The kitchen?" Janus said.

"No, no." Patton set the whipped cream down on the kitchen island and popped the cap off. "When you get all your stuff together before you cook. I think it's French?"

"Oh," said Janus, his face growing thoughtful. " Omelette du fromage."

"No!" Patton turned away to laugh, one hand still on the whipped cream canister.

"Scout's honor." Janus held up his gloved right hand, facade not cracking for even a moment.

"It starts with an M, I think," Patton said, twisting up his mouth as he tried to remember.

This bubbled over into laughter when Janus said, deadly serious, " Momelette du fromage." That was when he finally lost it, and hid his mouth behind his hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

His palm began to ache with cold, and he realized he was still holding onto the whipped cream. Remembering his idea, he waited for Janus to surface from behind his hands before brandishing the canister. "Open."

"Shut," said Janus, eying him with obvious doubt.

"Open!" Patton insisted, shaking the can a little.

"Absolutely not!" Janus said. "Here." He finished his coffee in a few swallows and held the empty cup out to Patton. "They do this for dogs at drive-throughs, you know."

"A puppaccino for you," Patton said, filling the mug with whipped cream. He was just about to tilt his head back and spray some into his mouth when Virgil rounded the corner all cloaked in shadows, with his hood up like the Grim Reaper. Patton flinched so hard it almost hurt. "Virgil! Good morning, kiddo!"

"Not with him here," Virgil said, jerking his hooded head at Janus.

The change was nearly instantaneous and it came down in front of Janus like heavy iron bars. He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on the back of it so he could toy with what few strands of hair peeked out from under his hat. "Now, Virgil , is that polite?" he asked, affecting shock and offense. His eyes flicked to Patton, but he stopped short of making eye contact and directed his gaze downward instead. "Here I am talking with my friend--" a pause-- "and you come in here and insult me."

“Seriously.” Virgil looked at Patton. “What is he doing here?”

“Sitting,” Janus said before Patton could even think. “Is that allowed?”

"Uh, since you're asking my permission, no. It's not allowed. Get lost."

"Yes, that obviously wasn't a rhetorical question. You're so clever."

Panic welled up in Patton’s throat and he couldn’t control it-- they were just bickering now, but it would spiral and someone’s feelings would get hurt. He didn't even realize he was backing away until he hit the wall behind him. Oh, god, he wouldn’t have to choose, would he? He couldn’t. Just the thought made his breath hitch like croaking in his throat and no no no--

"Virgil," Janus said, a touch too loud. "Truce."

Patton looked at him, panic falling away in the face of his confusion.

"What?" Patton watched Virgil's posture open a little, shifting from defensive to something a bit more neutral, versatile. "What are you trying to pull?"

Janus waved a hand, flashing yellow in Patton's peripheral vision. "Patton can fill you in the gory details as he sees fit. Here's what you need to know: I'm in."

"You're in?" Virgil repeated.

"I'm in," Janus said again. "Quid pro quo." He paused in between each syllable, his gaze intense and never wavering from Virgil. "I gave up my name--"

"You what?"

" Please interrupt me; that will make this go so much smoother." Janus paused, but Patton and Virgil remained silent. "I gave up my name, and in return, was given a voice." He turned his face downward and began to fuss with his right glove, and it took Patton a moment to realize that he was taking it off. For what? Another vow? What else could he possibly have to swear to?

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked, drawing back as Janus stepped away from the kitchen island and approached him.

Janus held up his bare right hand like a magician at a street show, then held it out for Virgil to shake. "Truce, Virgil. You don't like me, I don't care about you, blah blah blah. That doesn't have to change. But for Patton’s sake, for everyone’s sake, we can at least be civil."

Patton watched them in wide-eyed silence. For his sake? Janus was doing this for him?

The silence stretched on.

"Look," Janus said, clearly losing patience. "There's nothing I can do to make you trust me--"

"Uh, you could start by losing the attitude," Virgil sneered. Something clicked in Patton's head, but he had no time to pursue it as Virgil turned toward him with a hard look in his eyes. "Patton."

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"What's his name?"

Patton pressed his back harder against the wall, letting it take more and more of his weight. That was all he wanted, someone to hold him up for a while. But he had nothing, nothing but the turmoil before him and the cold, white wall behind his back and friendship bracelets like circles of fire around his wrists. "It's Janus."

Virgil scoffed, and something akin to a smile flashed on his lips for just a moment. And then, to Patton's surprise, Virgil shook Janus' hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway sounding as cold as the air around them, though Patton was reasonably sure that was poor Roman’s doing.

“‘Morning, Teach,” Virgil said, withdrawing his hand from Janus’ and shoving it in his pocket. “You’re not interrupting anything. What’s up?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” The words left Patton’s mouth in a frantic yelp, all high-pitched and desperate. He didn’t care. He just needed Logan to be okay; it was his job to make sure Logan was okay.

"No, thank you," Logan said firmly. "I only came to invite you to a meeting." He lifted his head and looked at Janus. " All of you."

"What kind of meeting?" Patton asked.

"A meeting regarding Thomas' functioning from this point forward. I believe we have cause to reassess some matters and re-examine some notions that were previously regarded as truths," Logan said "Please meet me back here at precisely 9:30. That is one hour and 23 minutes from now. I am telling you this now so you have adequate time to prepare and do not keep me waiting." Logan turned to leave.

"Wait!" Patton said, throat aching with the urge to cry. "Don't you want-- I can make toast or, or you can put Crofter's on the pancakes. The batter’s almost done."

“No, thank you,” Logan said, just as firmly as he had turned Patton away last night, before he’d gone to see Janus. And he turned and walked away.

“Jeeze,” Virgil said, his face still half-hidden under his hood. “What happened to him?” So Patton told him what had happened the night before.

And when he was done, Virgil had knocked his hood back, angry tears glimmering in his eyes. He rounded on Janus, practically shouting. “That was completely out of line!" Janus was silent. "It wasn't enough to completely shatter Roman's trust in himself, no , you just couldn't handle the insult to your precious pride , could you? God, you're such a jerk. I should drag you down to Roman's room right now and make you apologize, you-- you snake. "

"Virgil!" Patton interrupted, feeling the shards of his broken heart shatter into smaller pieces. "That's not fair."

"Not fair ?" Virgil repeated. He had gone bright red, both his hands clenched into fists. "What's not fair is that Roman's all alone in his room thinking that Thomas doesn't care about him!" He rounded on Janus again, angry tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes, "It should be you; I wish it was you. You just fucking break things, don't you? You keep trying to tell us you're not the bad guy, so why is it that everything you touch ends up like this, huh? Why can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

“Enough, Virgil,” Patton said, shooting an apologetic look at Janus. But Janus seemed unperturbed, standing with his arms crossed and a pitying expression on his face, like Virgil had just made a gaffe at a dinner party.

For some reason, that only made Patton feel worse. He was supposed to be their shepherd, the light to unite them and guide them through troubled times, and all he had done recently was cause fights and make people miserable. He would have to try extra hard at Logan’s meeting. They could all be friends again, for Thomas’ sake. They just had to work together.

--

"Aww," said Patton, desperate to break the chilly silence the only way he knew how. "It's nice to all be together, isn't it?"

He scanned everyone's faces for some trace of happiness, grasping for something, anything. Eye contact, half a smile. Just some hope that he hadn't broken things beyond repair.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, which was… Well, it was something. It was more than Logan's sickening lack of expression, it was more than Janus' closed-off scowl. Roman made a noise that Patton recognized at once as a choked sob, and continued to stare into middle distance.

Logan had gathered them into a conference room, evidently of his own invention; Patton had certainly never seen it before. Sitting down felt wrong, since they usually had these conversations standing and facing each other, but there wasn't really anywhere to stand. So they all sat in the high-backed leather chairs, spread out around a massive wooden table so varnished and clean that it reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

Patton, not Logan, sat at the head of it. He hadn't noticed, at first, until they were all seated and everyone had turned to face him. The ensuing case of nerves made his stomach turn. What did it say about him, that he had taken the seat at the head of the table without even thinking? No one else had gone for it… Had Patton trained them all so well, manipulated them into being obedient for him?

Over to Patton's right, Janus planted his elbow right on the lacquered tabletop and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Alright, let's see Paul Allen's card."

From Patton's left, he heard Virgil snicker and clear his throat, but when Patton turned to look, he had gone back to glaring at Janus.

"American Psycho?" Janus continued, evidently unbothered by the lack of response. "No? Tough crowd."

Patton frantically tried to think of an American Psycho quote to answer back with, but he hadn't been paying attention when Thomas had watched the movie. All the blood made him feel queasy, not to mention the drug use and sex.

He was paying for it now, with no way to support Janus. Not that Janus seemed to mind; he was lounging in the stiff leather chair like it was his own personal throne.

"Let's begin," Logan said. He was sitting straight upright in his own chair, all the way down at the other end of the table. He sat across from Roman, the two of them as far from Patton as they could possibly be. "As you all know, Thomas doesn't know what to do in his immediate future. He is currently lying in bed staring at the wall, a behavior which was previously considered unacceptable. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how we should guide Thomas through this… fraught time."

Logan stopped speaking, and what Patton had thought would be a pause stretched out into an awkward silence. "Uh, don't you have any suggestions, Logan?"

"No."

"Well, um. Shouldn't he get up and make breakfast or something?"

"If you feel that is the best course of action, I will write it down." A legal pad and a pen appeared before Logan and he began to write.

"Roman?" Patton said. "Anything? Maybe he could watch Parks and Rec while he eats? Or, uh, something else. Whatever he wants to watch."

"I don't care," Roman said in a hoarse, ragged voice.

"What?" Patton's heart wrenched, and the sensation was painful enough to make him twitch.

"I don't care," Roman repeated. "Whatever you say."

The scratching of Logan's pen seemed to echo in Patton's ears and he swore he could feel a physical weight on his chest. "Wh-whatever I say?" This wasn’t right; they were supposed to contribute… They were supposed to help...

"Oh," Janus' voice cut through the fog. Patton focused on him, the only light in this storm. "You've got to be kidding me." He laughed, all his features lighting up in a parody of mirth. " That was your takeaway from last night? That Patton should be in charge of everything?" He lifted his head and shifted in his seat, bringing up his hands in tandem like an orchestra conductor. "I'd love to know what factored into that decision. Was it the part where he cracked under the pressure you already put on him? Because that makes perfect sense. What do you do when a bridge is collapsing? Put more weight on it, of course! How very logical!"

"And I'm sure you'd prefer it if we all put you in charge?" Virgil snapped. Patton turned his head to look at him, not wanting to be rude, but Virgil didn't seem to notice. He had somehow found space to draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. Only his eyes peeked out from behind his legs, and his gaze never wavered from Janus.

" Yes , Virgil, that's my point! Take all that pressure off Patton and put it on me, that's exactly what I want. Congratulations, you uncovered my evil scheme to work myself into a nervous breakdown. I wonder what video game character I'll turn into."

"Like you haven't been aiming for a total takeover this whole time! Patton's probably your next target."

Janus actually laughed at this, which Patton almost couldn't conceive of. How could Janus laugh when Virgil was throwing such terrible accusations at him? They were both being so-- so ugly . The idea that Virgil might be right-- No. Patton couldn't even consider it. He had made the choice to trust Janus and he had to stick with it, right or wrong.

He slammed his palms onto the tabletop, marring its spotless surface with his touch. "Just stop! Stop arguing!" Great, everyone was looking at him now. "I can't be in charge of Thomas all by myself. Please help me."

Roman planted his forearm on the table and buried his face in it. Logan made a note on his legal pad. Patton had never been a violent soul, but for a moment he was nearly overcome by the sudden urge to grab Logan's rollerball and snap it in half.

"Patton," Virgil murmured.

"Just help me," Patton repeated, staring at the smudges his palms had left on the lacquer.

Janus stretched one arm across the table and stole Logan's legal pad and pen. He tore off the first page and began to write, speaking aloud as he did so. "Breakfast. Cereal, something easy. Parks and Rec. He gets three episodes, then he's getting up to brush his teeth, then going for a walk around the neighborhood. With headphones."

"Without," Virgil said. "In case someone tries to sneak up on him and jump him."

Janus paused in his writing and stared at Virgil. Then his gaze flicked to Patton and, to Patton's surprise, he nodded and went back to writing. He was honoring the truce after all. "No headphones." He pursed his lips, as though physically holding back whatever comment he wanted to make. After a moment's pause, he added, "In fact. He's putting his phone on 'do not disturb.'"

"But what if--" Patton blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hand until he noticed Virgil glaring at Janus. He shook his head at Virgil and dropped his hand. "What if someone needs Thomas?"

"And they think he's ignoring them," Virgil added. "And they get mad and stop trusting him."

"Any point on this list is negotiable," Janus said, and Patton had known him long enough to tell that Janus was only setting up the pins for the sake of knocking them down, "but only if your argument is reasonable. Hypotheticals are not reasonable arguments."

"Told you so," Virgil said to Patton. "He wants total control."

Janus slapped the pen down on the table with an unpleasant crack and pushed the legal pad toward Virgil. "Behold! My nefarious agenda."

Before Virgil could move, before Patton himself could be tempted to look, he flipped the legal pad over and slid it back to Janus without reading a single word. "I believe you."

"Patton--" Virgil protested.

"We can work this out like adults," Patton said.

"Well," Logan said frostily, standing up from his chair. "It appears as though you have matters under control without the need for my further involvement." He sank out before Patton could even start thinking of something to say.

Roman lifted his head, revealing tired eyes. At least he hadn't been crying at the table, Patton supposed. "I'm going to go, too," he said, and sank out without another word. The temperature rose noticeably, but remained uncomfortably cold. Poor Roman. It wasn’t often that he got so upset that he lost control of his imagination.

"You next," Virgil said to Janus. "Me 'n' Pat have got this handled. We can do this on our own." He looked expectantly to Patton, gesturing with his head for Patton to dismiss Janus.

Patton sighed. Why was Janus the only one who didn't seem to want something from him? Janus, who Patton even a day prior had suspected of puppeting them toward some bleak apocalypse, was the only one not trying to get him to do anything. Patton almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Everything was wrong.

"I don't think I can do this," Patton murmured, staring at his palm prints. Even after his colossal screw-up last night, they were all looking to him. He had failed, let them all down. He was the one who had manipulated everyone into seeing him as a good person, a leader, a father . And even after watching him fall, they all still trusted him to make it right.

Everyone except Janus.

Patton never could have guessed that the idea of not being trusted would be so comforting.

"You have to!" Virgil said.

"I know."

"Anytime you want to wrap up this little soap opera," Janus said. He was lounging in his chair looking supremely unbothered, spinning Logan's pen across his gloved fingertips. "We need to decide what Thomas should eat for lunch. He just bought a bag of granola--"

"No!" Patton and Virgil shouted in tandem.

"Don't we have to worry about, like, nutrition or whatever?" Virgil continued, smoothing his hair back.

"Logan would know all about that," Patton said, staring at Logan's empty chair. "I wish…" He let the sentence go unfinished. It didn't matter.

" One day of mindless self indulgence isn't going to kill him," Janus said. "See what I did there?"

"Read the room, dude," Virgil said.

Patton let them bicker for no other reason than that he no longer had the mental energy to tune in. They were only arguing, after all, and he was here if they needed him.

He really hoped they didn't need him. That ugly desire dominated his mind, the sudden, selfish urge to be completely unavailable. It was wrong . It was wrong to be selfish, it was wrong to shut down like this when the others were depending on him.

Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in. He wished Logan had included some windows or something, some decor. Anything other than this sickening seafoam green paint.

"Thomas can put his phone on 'do not disturb,'" Patton announced. He wasn't sure if Virgil and Janus were even still arguing about that, but they were definitely arguing about something.

"What?" said Virgil. "You're seriously taking his side?"

Janus said nothing, but the splotches of yellow and black in Patton's peripheral vision had gone very, very still.

"Virgil, I need you to understand, I'm not taking anyone's side. It's just that… Well, you heard what happened when I tried to guess the right answers."

"But you're--"

"Fallible," Janus interrupted. "As are we all."

"Except you, right?" Virgil said.

"When have I ever said that?" Janus demanded.

"It's obvious! You don't have to say it. Every time you come waltzing into one of our discussions, you just bring it with you."

Patton sighed and sat back in his chair. He couldn't fix it. Everything he said and did was wrong . Everyone was at odds, and it seemed they all wanted Patton on their side.

He stared at the legal pad and thought,  seemingly out of nowhere, of the Judgement of King Solomon. "We'll do it half and half," he said.

"What?" said Janus.

"Virgil decided that Thomas won't listen to music when he goes for a walk. Janus gets to decide whether Thomas puts his phone on 'do not disturb.' Virgil gets the next decision. And so on."

"Fine," Virgil said. "He's going to have salad for lunch."

"And then he's going to take a long shower and sing as loud as he wants without worrying if anyone can hear him."

"Fine, but then he's going to watch true crime videos and start working on a strategy for what he would do if he ever ends up getting interrogated by the police."

"He's watching cat videos afterward to cheer himself up."

Patton sighed, seeing that they had forgotten about the legal pad, and started writing.

The plan they settled on was a lazy one. If Thomas stuck to it, he would ultimately accomplish nothing with his day. But Logan wasn't there and Roman wasn't there, and Patton barely had the will to advocate for himself . He just wasn't strong enough.

He wondered, briefly, if there was some way he could split himself up, and give a little bit of support to Roman, to Logan, to Virgil. They really seemed to need it, and it had to be hurting them that Patton wasn't there. And the rest of him, whatever was left, could seek comfort in Janus and his total lack of expectations. What else was he supposed to do?

"That's a wrap," Janus said, pulling Patton out of his morbid fantasies.

"Good job, you two," Patton said, and the praise sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Great teamwork."

"Don't get used to it," Virgil said.

Janus stood, sending his chair rolling back until it bounced off the wall. "I'll be going, then. Virgil, it was a pleasure ."

"Wait!" Patton yelped, suddenly panicked. "I wanted-- I…" He faltered and looked at Virgil, who was watching them closely. "I want to talk to you."

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with him," Virgil said, and Patton wasn't sure whether Virgil was addressing him or Janus.

"It's okay, Virgil," Patton said.

Virgil shook his head, and Patton's heart dropped when he noticed that Virgil was shaking a little, his breaths coming shallow (but thankfully, even). "It's not okay. He's dangerous, and I… I couldn't protect Roman. I couldn't protect Logan. I can't let him get you, too."

Patton thanked all the stars in the sky that Janus had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not wind Virgil up when he was clearly upset. "It's okay, kiddo. That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And… I know you don't trust Janus, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

"I-- I guess so." Virgil bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something else. He dropped his voice to a murmur, so much that Patton had to lean in to be able to hear him. "I just want to help. I spent so long causing problems; I just want--" he sighed "--to be good."

"You are good, kiddo," Patton said, reaching out slowly. Virgil didn't flinch or shake his head, so Patton put his hand on Virgil's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But if you really want to help out, maybe you can go try to cheer up Roman? I haven't had much luck with him, but he might listen to you."

Virgil nodded. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I'm never gonna forgive myself if Janus hurts you."

"Ah, your ol' pop star will be just fine," Patton said. "Better than fine! I'll be gay-OK."

Virgil didn't smile, exactly, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a little and that was good enough for Patton. "Alright. I trust you." With one final dirty look over Patton's shoulder, he stood and sank out.

Patton turned around slowly, suddenly nervous. Part of him knew it didn't make sense. Logan had created this space; he and Janus were on neutral ground here.

"Parley?" Janus asked from the far end of the table. He had summoned up a chessboard and was evidently playing a game against himself.

"If we're gonna parley, should we do it in a par- lor ?" Patton joked, chuckling weakly.

Janus' smile was crooked and Patton couldn't tell if it was sincere. "You're absolutely right." He vanished the chessboard with a wave of his hand and stood up. "Follow me."

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

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More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

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Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

[taxicabinmemphis]

48. “I’m a little drunk right now.” + 52. “Are you showing off for me?” Logan x Janus, Roman, or Virgil (I don't care who out of those three), Logan being the drunk one. The other side finds them in or by a bar, they weren't there before or while Logan got drunk

so my mind saw this and went from broke: logince woke: loginceit/roloceit bespoke: analoginceit/roloanxceit

(tw swearing, alcohol, food, kissing without consent sorry)

(please forgive the inaccuracies for drunken behavior, hangovers, and that I wrote way too much lol. also logan is a teacher or professor and roman can cook but it’s hardly mentioned)

Logan rested his head on the bar table, just having downed a shot of vodka. His three roommates who he just so happened to be in love with got together a couple of days ago, but only decided to tell him this morning.

The worst part was, he understood why they were together. They made sense. In his very professional and totally-not-drunk opinion, Logan didn’t fit. Despite this, he was still head over heels.

He liked three people and instead of liking him, they liked each other. It was just his luck. So now he was here, drinking away the emotional pain.

He lifted his head off the table and asked the bartender for another shot of vodka. The bartender gave him a concerned look but complied.

Logan was lifting the glass to his lips when he heard it.

“Logan! Oh my god, Logan!”

Logan snorted, taking a small sip from the vodka. The person calling his name sounded like Roman. He set the shot glass down and someone then grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Logan was just able to make out the beloved face of Roman looking at him in concern.

“Oh, thank goodness I found you!” he exclaimed in relief. “I’m gonna text Janus and Virgil.”

“What do you want, Roman?” Logan slurred.

“What do I want?!” Roman repeated incredulously. “I want to make sure you’re alright. You said you were going out to get lunch and would be back in an hour and a half but you weren’t! It’s eleven right now!”

“So what? Ten hours longer than expected, not too bad.”

“Not too bad? Janus, Virgil, and I were worried sick!”

Logan shrugged sloppily. “Not my fault.”

“Are you blaming us for worrying about you?”

Logan took another sip of vodka, clearly more calm about the situation than the flailing Roman.

“Roommates normally don’t scream at each other for not telling each other their every plan for the day. It’s not my fault y’all are overbearing.”

“Overbearing? Over-fucking-bearing?! You told us you would return, and you didn’t! Virgil was yelling about car crashes and kidnapping and murder and scared the shit out of me and Janus! We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Logan stated. “I’m a little drunk right now, but besides that I’m good.”

Logan’s attention was stolen by Virgil and Janus racing over to where the two of them were. They were both wide-eyed and out of breath.

“Logan!” Virgil said, grazing his hand over Logan’s shoulder as if to make sure he was real. “Roman, is he okay?”

“He said he’s a little drunk, but fine,” Roman said angrily.

Janus gave Logan a once-over. “A little drunk, my ass. Bartender!” he called. The bartender turned. “How much has this nerd had?”

“I don’t have the recollection to be precise, so drunk as a skunk is all I can tell you, dude,” they replied.

Logan’s three love interests made various noises of discontent. Logan rolled his eyes and went to take another sip of vodka.

“Ah, no,” Janus said, taking the glass from Logan’s hands. “No more for you.”

“Can’t you just let me get drunk in peace?” Logan asked.

Virgil shook his head, motioning the bartender back over to take his drink. They did and gave the four a look.

“You gonna take him home?” they asked.

Logan sighed, taking out his wallet. “Putting up a fight will only draw attention and there’s three of you and one of me. I’ll go with them.”

He handed the bartender his card to pay.

“Nonsense, let me pay,” Roman offered.

Logan snorted. “Fuck off, Roman. You’ve been overbearing since you got here, can’t you let me have this?”

Roman looked taken aback and even a little hurt. The bartender cautiously took Logan’s outstretched card, likely not wanting to upset someone sober and angry.

Once Logan had paid, he got off the bar seat and stood shakily, crossing his arms. He was hardly standing up but didn’t want his three roommates to notice.

“Who’s gonna drive me?” he asked.

“We walked, as we were checking around everywhere. I, currently the most competent gay as you are drunk, will drive,” Janus stated, holding out his hand for Logan’s car keys.

Logan fumbled for his keys, getting them out of his pocket with shaky hands and giving them to Janus. Virgil frowned in concern at Logan’s movements.

“Are you sure you’re alright, L?” Virgil inquired. “You’re rarely this unbalanced.”

“He’s drunk, V, what do you expect?” Janus pocketed the keys. “Let’s go.”

The four started to walk out of the bar. Virgil took Janus’ free hand, Logan suppressing a sad whine. He looked down and wished he could stir in his feelings away from his roommates. However, they just so happened to be naturally caring and worried people who wouldn’t leave him alone.

His negative thoughts consumed his focus, prompting him to lose his balance. He started to fall, only for a pair of strong arms to catch him.

“Woah there, you good?” Roman asked.

“Fine,” Logan mumbled, trying to get back on his feet but slipping again.

“You’re really drunk, huh?” Roman seemed much calmer than before. “Here, let me help you.”

“N...no,” Logan protested quietly.

Roman either didn’t hear him or didn’t care as he picked up Logan bridal style. Logan had no choice but to put his arms around Roman’s shoulders. Fortunately for him, his blush could be attributed to the high amount of alcohol he had consumed. He saw Janus and Virgil glance at them, a look on their face similar to that of their friend Patton’s when he saw a kitten.

“Aww...” Virgil cooed. “Look at you two.”

“It’s disgusting and not cute at all,” Janus agreed with a smile.

“Put me down,” Logan huffed.

“Nope,” Roman said with a grin.

Logan frowned, pausing for a second. “I don’t need to be carried, especially not like this. Are you showing off for me?”

Roman’s face reddened.

“Wait no, it’s not that...you wanna show your boyfriends you’re strong,” Logan said, his slurred words dragging out the final word longer than intended.

Virgil snorted. “Is that what it is, Roman?” Virgil opened the door to the bar for his roommates.

“Whatever, you two.”

They walked out to Logan’s car, Janus unlocking the door and sitting in the driver’s seat. Roman opened the back door and set Logan in the car before taking the passenger seat. Virgil sat on Logan’s left.

The drive to their shared apartment was short and next to silent, Logan starting to show signs of fatigue. Eventually, Janus pulled the car into the driveway. He stopped and turned off the car but didn’t get out immediately, instead throwing his head back against the seat in exhaustion.

Virgil felt something hit his shoulder, and saw that Logan had passed out on his shoulder.

The anxious emo’s mouth opened in awe and he decided to brush Logan’s hair out of his eyes.

“Look,” Virgil called to his boyfriends. “He’s asleep on my shoulder.”

Roman let out an “aww” and Janus chuckled.

“Let’s get him inside,” he suggested.

Virgil sighed in disappointment and pushed Logan’s shoulder to wake him up. Eventually, he did, and when he noticed where his head was, he shot himself into a sitting position. Virgil’s heart sank a little in disappointment.

Roman opened Logan’s door and offered the now awake side his hand. Logan unbuckled his seat belt after four unsuccessful tries and refused Roman’s hand. The refusal was a mistake, however, as Logan almost fell again.

Roman caught him, shaking his head in disapproval. “Just let me help you sometimes, Teach. I don’t bite.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Roman picked Logan up again and followed Janus and Virgil. They eventually made it to their apartment, Janus unlocking and opening the door for them. Roman placed Logan gently on the couch in a sitting position. Virgil sat next to him and Roman sat in an armchair across from them.

“Where do you want your keys, Logan?” Janus asked. “I’d hate for you to be unable to find them tomorrow.”

“Coffee table is fine till morning,” Logan murmured, Janus hardly catching what he said. He set the keys there and stayed standing.

“Should we ask him why he was gone for so long?” Roman asked.

Janus shook his head. “No. We’ll do it in the morning. Look at him, he’s already drifting off.”

They watched as Logan fell asleep again, leaning over towards Virgil. Virgil grinned at this, guiding Logan’s head to his lap.

“We should let him sleep. Then, we can ask him after lunch.” Janus stood behind the chair Roman was sitting at, putting his hands on Roman’s shoulders.

Roman turned to Janus. “Why wait that long? I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” Virgil agreed. “He could be going through some shit we don’t know about.”

“He’ll have a hangover. We don’t want to trouble him or put a lot on his mind when he’s in pain.”

The two nodded. Virgil started to run his fingers through Logan’s hair, appreciating its softness. He removed Logan’s glasses, smiling at how pretty his face was even without the spectacles that completed his look.

“He’s so pretty,” Virgil said quietly.

Janus hummed in agreement.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t tell him like we planned to when he returned from lunch,” Roman stated.

“We can tell him tomorrow,” Janus assured him.

“Unless he’s going through some bad shit, then we shouldn’t bother him with feelings-y stuff,” Virgil objected.

“Of course,” Janus agreed.

They stared at him in silence for a moment, Virgil finally deciding to wake him.

“Hmm? Virgil?” Logan asked sleepily.

“Let’s get you in bed, L,” Virgil said, a tired smile on his face.

---

Logan put his fork down, just having finished Roman’s delicious lunch of chicken alfredo. His headache was going away and he no longer felt sore or dizzy. He was close to getting back to normal, but he was still pretty tired and sometimes felt a little nauseous. And he was also a little bit irritable.

Roman immediately took his plate, Logan starting to object as Roman was being so nice to him but nothing leaving his lips.

Virgil and Janus had both finished already, and were now talking in the living room. Virgil was on an armchair and Janus was on the sofa, seeming to be deep in conversation.

“Logan,” Roman started, walking over to his friend. “Would you be so kind as to sit with us in the living room?”

Logan nodded, standing up and pushing his chair in. Roman took his hand and gestured to the sofa, where Logan sat on Janus’ left and Roman on Logan’s left.

“Hey there, L,” Virgil greeted. “Feeling better?”

“Significantly,” Logan answered. “Thank you for dealing with me.”

“It’s no problem,” Roman replied, putting his arm on the sofa, behind Logan’s head. “You’re kinda cute when you’re out of it.”

Logan glared at him. “I have no desire to be cute.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you can’t always get what you want,” said Virgil with a short laugh.

“Logan,” Janus started seriously after a moment, “we wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh dear,” Logan said quietly, before sighing. “What did I do wrong this time?”

Virgil gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ve done nothing wrong, L, we just wanted to talk to you. And ask you a couple of things.”

“Alright, I suppose I have no way out of this. Fire away, as they say.”

“Why did you say you would come back in an hour and a half, only to...well, not?” Roman asked, starting the conversation.

Logan shrugged. “I guess I forgot I promised I’d return soon.”

“No text?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t track for me to forget my plans but remember to text you about changing them, would it?”

Virgil’s confusion erased from his face.

“Fair, but why were you gone so long without returning? Where did you go?” Roman queried. “Ten hours is a lot of time.”

“I got lunch, went to the park, walked in the park, went to Starbucks which had quite a long line, went to the library, and then the bar. I have a great love for books, remember? I could spend days at the library.”

Janus nodded. “Why did you go to the bar?”

“I wanted to drink.”

“Alone?” Roman asked.

“For a long time?” Virgil continued.

Logan shrugged.

“Why did you get drunk?” Janus asked bluntly.

Logan stared at him strangely. Logan wondered why all three of them were so intent on digging into his personal life and reasons for everything.

“Does it matter?” Logan shot back. “Why do y’all care, anyway? I wouldn’t ask these questions of a roommate, myself.”

“You’re not just our roommate, L,” Virgil objected. He got off his chair and moved to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of Logan.

Roman and Janus nodded in agreement.

“Yes, and you’ve gotta stop using that as an excuse to not answer our questions or doubt the validity of our reasons for them.” Janus gave Logan a pointed look.

Logan snorted. “What are we then? Friends? Still doesn’t make your inquiries unnatural.” The three boyfriends shared a look. “Can’t you just let me live?”

“We want to know if something is troubling you, Logan,” Janus stated, cutting to the chase. “If there’s something troublesome going on in your life, we’d hate to know about it so we can help you if we can, or at least understand you.”

“We also have something else to talk with you about and don’t want to talk with you about it if you’re in a bad place,” Roman added.

Logan closed his eyes, put his head down, and massaged his temples. They were probably going to ask him to move out as they were now in a romantic relationship and wouldn’t want him around and disturbing their time together.

Logan didn’t want to tell them that something bad was bothering him—he figured it would be easiest to get this over with. And if he did tell them something was bothering him, they would likely try to force it out of him and Logan did not want that. So, he decided to lie, despite having no ill intentions towards them.

“Nothing is bothering me; I’m fine,” Logan stated. “You all can talk to me about what you have on your minds.”

Logan’s roommates shared a look.

“I can tell you’re lying, Logan,” Janus said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Logan said sharply, lifted his head to face Janus. “Nothing of major consequence is troubling me, do you understand? You three clearly have something you want to talk with me about. Please get it over with.”

“Logan...” Virgil protested weakly.

“We can tell something’s bothering you,” Roman said slowly.

Logan turned away from Janus to look between Roman and Virgil. His face contorted into one of accusation and irritation. “What’s bothering me is you three’s pushy and presumptuous attitude towards my every action these past twenty-four hours and your blatant refusal to take my requests and statements to heart! I don’t owe any of you anything so stop acting like it.”

Yeah, that might’ve been a little too rude and a little too blunt, but glossing over the matter at hand and not listening to what Logan wanted out of them was getting on his nerves. The three should either get to the point or leave him alone. Sitting here and coddling over him was doing nothing.

Each of Logan’s roommates acquired a look of pain and offense, some more than others. Virgil looked like he had been physically pushed back and his eyes were wide with pain swimming in his irises, Roman’s mouth was open and he had a hand on his chest, and Janus looked down in shame.

“We apologize, Logan,” Janus said after a long silence. “We have gone a bit too far with the interrogating and the digging into your actions which we have no business in. We simply want to make sure you’re okay.”

“And you’ve asked three fucking times in this conversation and gotten the same answer,” Logan snarled. “My not being in constant contact and not spending time in your presence doesn’t mean I’m in trouble. My life doesn’t revolve around any of your presences. I’m fine, so just tell me what you wanted to.”

Roman looked between his boyfriends carefully. “Well, now might not be a good time anymore, considering the sharp turn the conversation has taken.”

“Oh, so my irritation with your obsessive actions has made you unable to continue?” Logan asked sarcastically. “I guess it’s not too important, then.”

“No!” Virgil exclaimed quickly, putting a hand on Logan’s knee, only to remove it when Logan flinched at the contact. “It’s v-very important, but...” he trailed off.

“It’s delicate as well,” Janus completed for him. “It shouldn’t be addressed with-”

“Irritation? Anger?” Logan interrupted. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m done with those right now. I have to accept that the three of you either worry too much or overstep your relationships with people. I’m just exhausted, okay? So it’s probably best for you to tell me now before I get too tired of your presences to listen anymore.”

The last comment seemed to strike another blow to Logan’s roommates. Logan sighed when he noticed this. His hangover was making him get too careless.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt about that,” Logan muttered. “Though, I guess it won’t matter much longer.” The last part was extremely quiet.

“What?!” the three all asked.

“Oh dear, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Logan asked, exhausted with himself.

They nodded.

“Are you...”

“I’m fine, Virgil. For the last fucking time. I’m just pretty damn sure I know what you’re gonna ask of me,” Logan assured his anxious friend.

“You do?” Roman asked, perking up.

Janus put a hand to his forehead. “No, he doesn’t. He thinks he does. If he did, he wouldn’t have said that, much less thought it.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Roman agreed.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “No, I’m pretty sure I know.”

“What is it, then?” Roman challenged.

“You want me to move out,” Logan stated tiredly. “And don’t worry, I won’t-”

“Stop,” Virgil said, holding out his hand as a gesture for Logan to stop talking. “Right now. I don’t wanna hear it. Too painful.”

Roman nodded vigorously in agreement.

“I’m not wrong, so why not let me say it?” Logan argued.

“Yes, Logan. You’re not wrong,” Janus said sarcastically. “We only went out of our way to walk wherever we could think of to find you last night, waited till later in the day to even talk with you about this, ask you personal questions and repeatedly ask if you were alright, and check to make sure you aren’t in a bad place, just so we could tell you to move out. Makes complete sense.”

Logan frowned in confusion, face acquiring a slightly pink tint. “I...I don’t really believe you. What else could it be?”

“Well, why don’t you sit back and find out?” Roman asked, a small smirk on his face.

Logan looked between their unwavering stares that showed no signs of deception, before conceding and leaning back. “Alright, go ahead.”

“To preface, we in no way mean to pressure you,” Janus started sincerely. “And if you do feel uncomfortable with us after this, we will understand if you want to move out. We can even help you find an apartment.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “I was righ-”

Virgil put his index finger over Logan’s mouth. “No, you weren’t. Moving out is not what we want at all. Janus is just saying we will understand if that is what you want after this. And we will be down for helping you, as we care about you and want you to be in a healthy and safe living situation.”

“We’d honestly be devas-”

“Roman,” Janus interrupted. “We don’t want to pressure or guilt him.”

Roman nodded and didn’t finish, electing to take Logan’s hand between both of his instead. Virgil reached at Logan’s right hand. Janus noticed this and that Virgil couldn’t reach and gave Logan’s hand to Virgil. The emo took it, and ran his fingers over the back of Logan’s hand. Logan’s cheeks went slightly pink.

“Logan, we have something to confess to you,” Janus said quietly.

“It is of great importance,” Roman continued.

“And we mean it from the bottom of our hearts,” Virgil finished sincerely.

“The three of us got together after that one dinner we all had a three days ago.”

“You left early, however, and had ‘business to attend to’ or whatever,” Roman continued after Janus.

“We were all being flirtatious with each other that night, and so it really just came about naturally,” Virgil said, looking pleasantly nostalgic. “We just kinda asked what the three of us were to each other a few minutes after you left and we decided on boyfriends.”

“However, we also needed to talk to you. We were going to after you returned from lunch,” Janus told Logan.

“That’s why we were so worried and I was so angry,” Roman admitted. “I wanted to get to tell you this and not have to put it off.”

Logan didn’t think he could take much more of this; they were unknowingly playing with his heart and it was torture. “Can you please just tell me?” he asked weakly, practically begging for them to end this and break his heart once more.

They looked at each other for a moment, then back to Logan, a silence coming over them for half a minute. Virgil, however, decided to break it.

“You’re so fucking lovely, L,” he said passionately.

Logan looked at him in surprise, like a deer in the headlights.

“And analyzing your previous statements and actions, you likely don’t want what we do,” Virgil continued, looking disheartened. “You likely don’t feel the same.”

“But we love you so much,” Roman confessed.

“And we want you,” Janus finished. “In our hearts, minds, and relationship.”

Logan was too shocked to speak. They wanted him? They loved him? He left the conversation at dinner to grade papers because the flirting going on around him was making him both flustered and jealous, but if he stayed...

They were asking him to join their relationship. They didn’t want him to move out, they wanted him to be more to them. And did Logan want that too?

God, yes.

“I...”

He didn’t know how to speak anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Janus stated. “Virgil was right. It would be unwise to presume you feel the same for us, considering your irritation with us. If you’d like, we can leave you to your thoughts and-”

Logan turned his head and cut him off with a kiss. Janus’ eyes widened, and he kissed back, putting a hand on Logan’s jaw. Logan would do the same if he wasn’t holding hands with Roman and Virgil.

They parted after a minute, and Logan was finally able to find words.

“I have a romantic interest in the three of you as well,” Logan said breathlessly.

Roman squealed, taking one of his hands away from Logan’s and using it to turn his head.

“May I kiss you?” Roman asked excitedly.

Logan nodded.

Roman connected their lips. His arm went around Logan’s waist, and he squeezed Logan’s hand tighter.

The two pulled away after a second. Logan turned his head away from Roman slowly and stared at Virgil.

The emo, looking absolutely ecstatic, got off the coffee table. He sat on Logan’s lap and tilted Logan’s chin up to face him with the hand that wasn’t holding Logan’s hand.

“I don’t supposed I can kiss you as well?” Virgil asked with a teasing tone, running his hand through Logan’s hair.

“You’re welcome to,” Logan consented.

Virgil grinned and captured Logan’s lips in a passionate kiss.

~

This one got sooooo far away from me I’m so sorry. Hope you enjoyed! If you were just really looking for a single ship and not poly for the four of them, shoot me an ask and I’ll write it! (My brain just went “you say ‘or’ I say ‘and’” and decided to do all lol). Thanks, this one was really fun.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

it was always you (falling for me) - chapter 2

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides Rating: Teen & up (for swearing) Relationships: Prinxiety, Moceit, and QPR Intrulogical (eventually this will develop into Intrulosleep!) Warnings: Language; Remus being Remus; Shakespeare fans will probably hate my interpretation(s) of the plays I reference here, if the English major friend I showed this to is anything to go by, and I’m very sorry about that 😂 Word Count: 9042

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: In a world where you and your soulmate swap dreams once a month, seven young adults enter the same college as freshmen. Each of them is wondering when they’ll find their soulmate and what that will mean for them.

Notes: Secret Santa gift for sanders-sides-fics!

Chapter 2

Roman had a problem. A person-shaped problem. Specifically, a problem shaped like his brother’s excessively pretty roommate, who seemed to take pleasure exclusively in needling Roman every chance they got.

Roman groaned, burying his face in one of the pillows on his bed.

“Hm?” his roommate, Patton, said sympathetically.

“I swear Virgil has, like, an agenda against soulmates, or something,” Roman said, rolling over and staring despairingly at the ceiling.

“Now, kiddo, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Roman lifted his head to look at Patton. “Aren’t I older than you?”

“Only by a few months,” Patton said serenely. “Spiritually, you’re my kiddo.”

“Pat, that makes no sense.”

Patton blinked up at him with a too-innocent face. “If it feels dad to you, just don’t think about it any father.”

“Oh my god.”

Patton giggled, a noise of pure delight, then circled back to Roman’s original topic. “What makes you think he’s got something against soulmates?”

“Uh, the way ze rails against them at every opportunity, for a start?” Roman sat up. “We have argued five times in the last two weeks about soulmates, and only three of them were even about Shakespeare like usual!”

“Haven’t you only known Virgil for, like, three weeks?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point.” Roman climbed down the ladder to the ground. “Also, I feel like that makes it worse?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Patton seemed amused. “You talk about them a lot, you know?”

“He’s so annoying!” Roman said defensively. “Ze gets this stupid smirk like ze knows something I don’t and he doesn’t even seem to care about constructing sound arguments half the time!” He put his laptop into his backpack.

“Going somewhere?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, Virgil and Remus invited me over to their dorm to study.”

“Oh,” Patton said, a funny sort of look on his face like he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Patton waved him away, still smiling to himself. “Have fun studying with Virgil.”

“I will,” Roman said brightly, heading out the door.

***

“I want to go get ice cream,” Remus announced suddenly, hopping to his feet. “Who’s coming with?” It was late, almost midnight, and Roman was sitting on the floor in what had been a nice triangle with Remus and Virgil until Remus had stood. The three of them had been alternately working on homework and arguing about Disney characters.

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug, tugging their hoodie up onto their shoulders—they’d been wearing it dangling off their body, with only their wrists in the sleeves holding it on. “Let me fix my eyeliner first, though.”

Remus nodded distractedly, looking around the room and turning in a circle.

“Whatcha looking for?” Roman inquired, getting to his feet as well.

“My wallet,” Remus said, gaze still roving around. “I don’t know where I—”

“By your chapstick,” Roman said.

“Ah!” Remus dove under his desk, scrabbled on the floor, and emerged with his wallet clutched triumphantly in one hand and his chapstick in the other. “Thank you.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Virgil asked, turning away from the mirror hung on the door with their eyeliner in their hand. They’d reapplied it to one eye, in a perfect, pointed wing; the other eye still had the only slightly less perfect, barely faded wing they’d been wearing this whole time. It matched their black lipstick and the carefully blended eyeshadow on their upper eyelids.

“He put it down there when he was telling the story about trying to collect dried gum off the street,” Roman explained. “And the chapstick was already there right next to it. So that’s how I remembered.”

Remus nodded. “I would have gotten there in a minute, probably,” he agreed.

“I still don’t understand how the fuck you knew that, but good for y’all, I guess,” Virgil said, turning back to the mirror.

“ADHD solidarity,” Roman explained.

Remus made finger guns at him, nodding. “ADHD solidarity,” he agreed.

Virgil paused halfway through drawing the other wing on. “Oh, that makes sense.” They picked up the line again, their hand perfectly steady, drawing it out to a fine point. “I thought you said you were autistic?” they added after a moment, their face holding perfectly still as they filled in the eyeliner with a practiced hand; their monolid eyelids allowed them to draw the wings of their eyeliner wide and dramatic.

“Yeah, I’m both. There are high rates of comorbidity, and also they’re both genetic, so neurodivergence runs in families,” Roman explained, the sentence rolling out of his mouth without him stumbling over the words once or having to think about it at all. “Did you know about ten percent of the population is probably ADHD?” he went on eagerly. “It’s super underdiagnosed. Especially because of race and gender biases in doctors who diagnose it, and the misconception that it’s only something children have. I only got diagnosed because Remus did when we were little, and we’re twins, so then they tested me too. Even though we aren’t identical. It’s super frequent for identical twins to both have ADHD if one of them has it, though.” Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, tapping the tip of his finger against his thumb. “I wish we were identical, I think it’d be so funny. Like, impersonating each other, and things. We could make such good video skits.”

“We make fantastic video skits already,” Remus protested.

“Okay, fair. But you know what I mean. And we could switch places for a day and see who noticed. All the stuff twins do in stories. Twins are always identical in stories, it’s so annoying, I wish there were more stories with fraternal twins.” Roman paused for a second, his mind hovering for an instant between a not-fully-realized train of thought about the gender politics of twin representation in stories and the question of what animals were most likely to have twins. He chose, almost before he was aware there was a choice, the animals question, his emotions nudging him away from the energy talking about gender representation would take up. “Do you think kittens dream?” he asked, only a second or two after he’d stopped talking in the first place.

“Yeah, probably,” Remus responded without missing a beat, likely following his train of thought. “Better question, do other animals have soulbonds, and how do they know if so?”

“Maybe it’s a scent thing,” Roman said thoughtfully.

“Ooh, like with glands or some shit?” Remus looked thoughtful. “That could make sense. I wonder—I bet there’s answers on the internet. I’m going to look this up later. Are you coming, too, by the way? To get ice cream?”

Roman thought it over. “Sure,” he agreed.

“I’m ready,” Virgil announced, capping their eyeliner and setting it down on hir desk. “Also, I got whiplash about five times just listening to that conversation.”

“Good, my chaos is overtaking another victim and soon I shall rule the world. Let’s go!” Remus led the other two out the door and started walking towards the end of campus.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Roman inquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red letterman jacket to keep them warm.

“There’s an ice cream shop that’s open till one in the morning about ten minutes away walking,” Remus said over his shoulder. “Logan and I found it the first weekend here.”

“You two went in search of sweets without me?” Roman put a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt,” he declared in his most dramatic voice.

“Oh, shut up, we would have gotten around to telling you about it eventually. I mean, I’m telling you right now, so.” Remus shrugged. “Virge, aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty, so it’s worth it,” Virgil said, tossing their head so the long hair on the top of their undercut swished. They were wearing a distressed band tee and a black skater skirt over fishnet leggings and a pair of doc martens. It was quite chilly out, and even though they were wearing a hoodie too, Roman understood why Remus had been concerned.

“You are very pretty,” Roman told them seriously. Even aside from their clearly carefully chosen outfit, this was true. Their eyes were round and curious and a captivating shade of dark brown. Even with the boost from the platform of the shoes they were wearing, they were tiny. Roman was sure they couldn’t be more than 5’2” without the boots. The hair on top of their undercut was very long, almost down to their waist, contrasting with the closely-shaved back and sides of their head. About six inches on the ends of their hair were dyed purple. Their makeup, of course, was flawless, as was their golden-brown skin, which was just a little bit darker than Roman’s. He made a mental note to ask them about their skincare routine sometime; no matter how much care he treated his skin with, the acne on his cheeks refused to go away. It was his least favorite side effect of taking testosterone. “But you can be pretty and warm at the same time, if you want. I hate being cold. But I respect your decision to be pretty and cold if you want to,” he added quickly.

Virgil let out a slightly nervous laugh, rubbing the back of their neck. “Thanks, I think.” Their eyes widened as they looked past him. “Oh, my god, Remus, shut up!”

“What?” Roman asked, looking over at Remus, who was giving Virgil an evil grin.

“Nothing,” Virgil snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Remus said innocently.

“Shut up!” Virgil repeated, flipping the hood of their hoodie up and dragging it over their face.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked, confused, while Remus burst into cackles of laughter.

“Nothing!” Virgil repeated with great emphasis.

Roman let out a sigh of frustration, but Virgil seemed genuinely upset about whatever Remus had done when Roman wasn’t looking, so he dropped it. Maybe Remus would explain later.

Remus did not explain later; however, he did turn around to walk backwards after the silence had stretched on long enough to become awkward. “Is the ocean a soup? Discuss,” he commanded.

“Oh, not this again!” Roman groaned. “No, absolutely not!”

“Yes,” Virgil said, almost as soon as Roman stopped talking.

“No!” Roman stamped his foot. “That makes no sense!”

“It makes lots of sense. Explain how it’s not soup,” Virgil challenged.

The resulting argument lasted them all the way to the ice cream shop and halfway through their treats.

“Aren’t you going to take a side?” Roman demanded of Remus at last.

Remus looked up from his cone. “Oh, no, this is very entertaining for me, I could watch you two bicker all month. Please keep it up.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Roman told him, trying not to laugh.

“I never claimed to be anything else,” Remus said happily.

***

“—and that’s how you do it. It’s really easy, but it’s so fun, I could balance chemical equations for hours,” Remus said, bopping the tip of his dry-erase marker against the giant whiteboard in the library for emphasis. He and Roman and Virgil had all met up here to study; it was a sunny afternoon, and they’d gotten a nice spot by the window. The marker left a little black mark next to the diagram Remus had spent the last ten minutes drawing; he wiped the dot away with his finger. He was wearing a turtleneck with horizontal black-and-white stripes and a pair of faded jeans with paint splatters all over them and huge rips in the front that ran from his mid-thighs almost down to his ankles; he’d finished the outfit off with socks in sandals and a black felt beret. His outfit—vaguely artistic, but mostly just terrible—contrasted comically with the intensely technical pseudo-lecture on chemistry he’d just given.

Roman nodded without looking up. “I remember balancing those was fun,” he agreed. He hadn’t taken a chemistry class in a couple of years now, but Remus was majoring in it, and the best way for Remus to study was to explain it out loud, so he’d gathered Roman and Virgil in the library. They’d even been able to snag one of the coveted whiteboards. Roman was able to focus on his notes better with Remus’s animated talking in the background, and Virgil preferred quiet but was willing to put on his headphones to block out Remus’s noise, so all in all this arrangement worked out well for all three of them.

“Yes!” Remus agreed with a happy wiggle. He picked up his water bottle off the table and took a long sip. “Okay, next I have a bunch of molecules I have to memorize the structures of. Do you need anything first?” He addressed his question to both of them, but Virgil seemed pretty focused—or perhaps his music was loud enough to drown out other noises.

Roman, however, thought the question over. “Yes, actually, can you help me go over my lines for this one scene? It’s not very long.”

“Mmhm.” Remus held out his hands expectantly, and Roman handed him his script. Remus began fiddling with the dog-eared bottom corner of the page it was open to, folding it back and forth.

Roman dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts—he liked cargo shorts, partly for the shape but mostly for the pockets—and handed Remus a star-shaped fidget toy made of sequins that could be flipped back and forth. He’d rather the corner of the script didn’t get torn off by mistake.

“I think I’m off book, I just want to make sure,” he said as Remus accepted the toy and began fidgeting with it.

Remus nodded, scanning the page. “Sounds good. It’s just this one page?”

“Yeah. Ready?”

Remus nodded, and Roman launched into the scene. His character had most of the lines; it was essentially a glorified monologue. Remus interjected the two lines from other characters, using a hilarious nasally voice that made it hard for Roman to stay in character without breaking to laugh, but he successfully made it through the final line before dissolving into snickers.

“You’re word-perfect, kid,” Remus proclaimed as Roman got ahold of himself, handing him back the script.

Roman grinned. “Thank you!”

Remus nodded and took another sip of water before wiping down the whiteboard and launching into a ramble about the molecular structures he had to memorize.

Roman had just about tuned Remus out again and slipped back into the headspace where he could focus on his work when Remus broke off. “Logan!” he exclaimed, sounding delighted.

Roman looked up, and so did Virgil, pulling off hir headphones. Roman followed Remus’s gaze, and there indeed was Logan, his flat top haircut and dark academia outfit unmistakeable. He was stepping out of the stairwell that led down from the floor above, adjusting the strap of the leather messenger bag they used instead of a backpack. Even at this distance, the pins he kept on the bag were visible, neatly affixed in alternating rows on the bag’s buckle straps—a demiboy flag, an aromantic flag, an enamel pin shaped like an open book, and a handful of other pins Logan had collected from the university’s cultural centers during orientation. Roman had a few of that last category on his backpack himself; he knew he and Logan had matching land acknowledgment pins now, but he wasn’t sure if any of the other pins they’d chosen matched.

Remus darted across the wide open floor, weaving his way around a few students. “Logan! Hi!”

Logan looked up, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he saw Remus. He said something—presumably a greeting—but was too far away for Roman to hear, since he was speaking at a normal tone.

Remus seized Logan by the hand and dragged them towards Roman and Virgil. Logan laughed and said something in protest, pushing his square glasses up his wide nose as he followed Remus.

“Remus, I have to go to class,” Logan was insisting as they got close enough for Roman to hear. “Hello, Roman. Virgil.” They adjusted their already-immaculate clothing, the tendons in their thin hands flexing as they smoothed their mustard-brown cable knit sweater vest and tugged on the rolled-up sleeves of their periwinkle button down shirt.

Virgil gave a two-fingered salute. “Sup.”

“Hi Logan,” Roman said happily. “We’re studying!”

“Very nice,” Logan said, raising Remus’s hand—which was still clasping his own—and gently pressing it with their other hand. “I am always glad to see you, Remus, but I can’t stay long.”

“Okay,” Remus said. “I just wanted to say hi.” He gave Logan a quick, tight hug around the ribs before releasing them just as fast as he’d darted in.

Logan smiled again. “Hello, then. I hope your studying is going well?”

He received nods from the group, and gave them his own nod in return.

“You’ve got to go,” Remus reminded him. “You don’t like to be late.”

“True. I’ll see you later, dear.”

Remus nodded. “Wanna hang out tomorrow night?”

Logan considered this. “Maybe. I’m going to the Black Student Union meeting tomorrow evening. So it would have to be after that.”

“Okay, I can do that! I love you!”

Logan smiled. “I love you too, Rem.” They made as if to leave, then paused. “Roman, while I’m thinking of it—are you and Patton still free for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Roman confirmed. Logan and Patton had two classes together, and so together with Roman they’d formed a tight-knit little friend group very quickly; the three of them tried to make sure to meet up for lunch at least once a week.

“Wonderful. I’ll text our groupchat about it. See you then.” Logan tugged his hand out of Remus’s grip, waved, and set off at a brisk pace back towards the stairs.

***

“I’m telling you, Virgil, Oberon and Titania are a really good example of how soulmates can make it through rough patches!”

“Bullshit. They’re obviously not a metaphor for soulmates, why would the fae even have soulmates? Their story is a cautionary tale,” Virgil said languidly, lying on their back on the floor of their room.

“No!” Roman pounded his fist on the floor. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because it’s funny,” Virgil replied with a snicker.

“But you always bash on soulmates, specifically!” Roman said.

“Yeah, because I think society’s emphasis on soulbonds is dumb.” Virgil shrugged. “Anyway, if you think Oberon and Titania’s relationship is a good example of anything, I have some concerns.”

“No—no, stop! I didn’t mean it like that! They’re fae, like you said. I obviously don’t condone any of the ways they treated each other! I’m just saying that viewing them as a metaphor for soulmates makes a really interesting lens to view the other couples in the play! Right, Logan?” He turned expectantly to Logan.

“Wh—no,” Logan, who was sitting on Remus’s bed and combing their fingers through Remus’s hair, his head in their lap, responded. “You are both, objectively, wrong. Horribly so. Painfully so.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to tell me I’m wrong about Shakespeare,” Roman countered quickly.

“Why did you ask me for my opinion, then?” Logan asked, rolling their eyes.

“I don’t know,” Roman grumbled.

“Wait, why can’t they talk to you about Shakespeare?” Virgil asked.

“Because they always win!” Roman crossed his arms.

“Oh, and I don’t?” Virgil demanded. “What am I to you, Roman? I thought we had something special here,” they went on playfully. “You make dumb arguments, I make worse ones, and then I win. I thought that meant something to you.” They pouted at him.

“That’s different!” Roman protested, stifling giggles at the mopey puppy dog eyes Virgil was sending him. “You just don’t care what I say. Logan actually refutes my arguments! It’s very humiliating!”

“I only do it because your logic is physically painful to listen to,” Logan said.

Roman crossed his arms and pointedly turned away from Logan, nose in the air. “Anyway. As I was saying. Puck’s role in all of this is really interesting, if you consider the question: are the fae supposed to be able to truly alter soulbonds, or are they only messing with feelings?”

“Dear,” Logan said plaintively, looking down at Remus, his fingers still carding through Remus’s curls.

“Hmm?” Remus responded, not opening his eyes.

“Make them stop,” Logan said beseechingly.

“Sorry fellas, you heard them. Stop torturing Logan, he’s already an English major, so he’s plenty tortured already. Or else I’ll have to dissect your spleens.” Remus wagged a finger in Roman and Virgil’s direction.

“What a terrible fate that would be,” Roman commented, flopping over to lie on the floor beside Virgil.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed; he pulled it out to see a text notification from Virgil.

Virgil: oberon sucks btw

Roman: Oh, it is ON!

Roman grinned as he sent the response, already anticipating the thrill of the argument that was about to ensue. He felt a warm thrill in his chest at Virgil’s answering chuckle—it was good to know Virgil was having fun with this too.

***

“—so I was hanging out with Virgil the other day at the library cafe, and he said The Tempest was dumb because magic solves everything.” Roman was lying on the floor of his dorm, tossing a bouncy ball up in the air and catching it over and over again. Logan was sitting at Roman’s desk, legs up and crossed on the seat of the chair as he worked on readings for an English class, half-listening to Roman’s rambling. “And that since it solved all the problems, it made no sense for Prospero to give it up. Which was completely ignoring all the bad stuff magic had done and the symbolism of him throwing it away!”

“What did Remus have to say about that?” Logan inquired with a small laugh, not looking up from the copy of Frankenstein in his hands.

“What? Oh, nothing. Remus wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Logan blinked, glancing up from the book.

“Yeah, we were at the library getting Starbucks, we do that on Wednesdays now. Remus was in his history class, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t know you and Virgil hung out together,” Logan said, raising their eyebrows.

“Oh, we don’t, we just get coffee on Wednesdays, it’s different,” Roman said.

Logan stared at him. “...What?”

“Like, we only hang out on our own time to get Starbucks and then argue about Shakespeare. It’s really fun! It’s a great system, honestly. And this way, you don’t yell at me about Shakespeare or text Remus rant essays about what you think I’m getting wrong!”

Logan looked away, a very called-out expression on his face. “You weren’t supposed to see those…”

“Oh, Remus didn’t show me, I just broke into his phone the other day and it was open to your texts,” Roman said reassuringly.

“Why would you break into—” Logan began, not seeming reassured in the slightest.

“I needed to check his calendar to see if he was available to come with me to the grocery store,” Roman explained. “You know we’re really good at guessing each other’s passcodes. He doesn’t mind, we break into each other’s phones all the time.” He paused, assessing Logan’s face, trying to gauge if their expression was upset or not. “I’m sorry I read the texts, though,” he added, just in case it had hurt their feelings. “I only saw the very end of it, it wasn't on purpose or anything. Promise.”

Logan sighed. “I know. It’s alright.” He reached across the space between them to press the back of Roman’s hand.

Roman grinned. “Only you would come up with a whole essay in a text,” he teased. “Dunno what I expected, really.”

“It wasn’t an essay,” Logan said defensively. “Technically speaking.”

“I dunno, it sure looked like if you formatted it with MLA, you could turn it in for a grade.” Roman giggled. “But hey, what do I know?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the doorknob rattled with the sound of keys.

Patton stepped in. “Hey! If it isn’t some of my favorite people!” he greeted the two of them with a smile. His dark, wavy hair was a little ruffled. Normally he combed it to the side, but Roman remembered it had been windy today, so Roman guessed that was responsible for the irregularity. “How are you doing?” Patton asked the two of them.

“Better now that you’re here,” Roman told him with an answering grin. “How’s your day been?” He’d noticed that Patton really liked being asked how his day had gone.

Sure enough, Patton’s smile spread a little wider. “Pretty good, thanks! I haven’t had too much to do today, which is nice. How are you doing, Logan?” He sat down on the floor beside Roman, sliding his backpack off his shoulders.

Roman immediately sat up and scooted over to lean against Patton—he was an excellent cuddler; he was tall and chubby and he ran warm, and Roman liked cuddles. He tended towards understimulation rather than overstimulation, and hugs were one of his favorite things. Patton was always happy to supply.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Logan said as Patton wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. “A little underslept, but otherwise good.”

“Good, good. You should sleep more. Are you both busy?” Patton asked.

“No,” Roman said, because Patton always had fun ideas.

Logan pursed his lips, glancing down at the book in his hands in consideration. “I can finish this chapter later. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if either of you wanted to play a board game,” Patton said. He and Roman had each brought a couple from their homes, and together they had quite the little collection.

“Yes!” Roman agreed eagerly, breaking away from Patton and crossing to the shelf where they kept the games. “How about Clue?”

“I will decimate you both,” Logan said, deadly serious, adjusting their glasses and scooting to the floor.

“All part of the fun, Specs.” Roman pulled out the box and set it down between them. “Dibs on the red piece!”

***

“—so I told him that was utter bullshit—not in so many words, of course—and listed off the reasons why, and he simply did not seem to recognize how completely nonexistent his logic was, he just kept repeating his original points louder and louder.” Logan punctuated his rant about a classmate with hand gestures as he walked next to Roman on the sidewalk.

“I hate guys like that,” Roman said, making a face.

Logan nodded. “But I got full credit on my discussion post when I typed up my argument and I cannot imagine he got the same, based on his talking points. So.” He shrugged, clearly trying not to look too smug with himself.

“Good job!” Roman told them.

“Thank you.” Logan’s happiness was palpable. “How have—”

“Logan!” Remus’s voice shouted.

Roman looked in the direction of the noise; they were almost an entire block away still from the quad, where they’d agreed to meet Remus, but he seemed to have spotted them. He was sprinting at full speed directly towards them.

“Oh, dear,” Logan said, the exasperation in his voice belied by the grin on their face. They took a step back and braced themself, just in time.

Remus full-on tackled Logan in a hug, colliding into him at full speed. Logan stumbled back a couple of steps, but successfully avoided falling over. “Hello, Remus,” he said composedly, wrapping their arms around Remus and returning the enthusiastic hug. “How are you?”

“Much better now. I missed you,” Remus said into Logan’s shoulder. “Normal people get all weird about it when I tell them cool murder facts. You're much cooler than normal people.”

“It has been twenty-seven hours and about thirty minutes since you last saw me,” Logan informed him. “And thirteen minutes since we last texted.” They rumpled his curls, which fell messily in loose spirals about his face; they were mostly about chin length, although some of them were choppily trimmed shorter than others. Remus was very insistent about cutting his own hair. It was always mildly disastrous, but he insisted he liked it that way. He’d dyed it himself, too; he’d bleached a streak at the very front of his head and dyed it silver about a month before college started, with a surprising amount of success.

“Yeah, and I missed you.” Remus stepped back from the hug as Logan released him. “Also hi Roman, I guess.” He tossed Roman a grin.

“You are a terrible brother sometimes,” Roman informed him. “Hi.”

“Uh, I think you mean all the time,” Remus corrected him. “I’m joking,” he added. “C’mon, I got Starbucks for us! I have extra meal credits!” He seized Logan’s hand and reached invitingly for Roman’s.

Roman let Remus grab his hand, too, and his brother immediately began dragging both Roman and Logan at a slightly breakneck pace down the sidewalk. Several students dove out of their way until he dragged them to a halt by the food truck, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting expectantly.

Not even a moment later, the barista placed three cups on the delivery window tray and called out Remus’s name.

“Yes!” Remus pumped his fist, darted over, and picked up two of the cups—Roman recognized Remus and Logan’s go-to coffee orders, a trenta mango-dragonfruit refresher and a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew with extra ice. Roman picked up the last cup, a warm drink in a grande cup; he sniffed to check what it was even though he knew what Remus usually got him. Steamed apple juice with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top—his favorite as a kid and still one of his favorites now. He wrapped his hands around the warm cup and followed Remus and Logan over to a sunny patch on the lawn.

Remus sprawled out, taking up more space than seemed humanly possible for one person to fill; Logan tucked their legs beneath them as they sat beside Remus and began pulling out a textbook, a dog-eared novel, and a handful of pens and pencils from their messenger bag.

Roman sat so that he completed the triangle between the three of them, his legs crossed so he could lean his cup against them between sips and not worry about knocking it over.

“Thank you for the coffee, Remus,” Logan said, his cup halfway to his lips as he flipped through the worn novel.

Roman nodded in agreement, breathing in the warm cinnamon scent of the apple juice.

“Of course!” Remus said exuberantly, taking a noisy slurp of his drink.

Roman and Logan both winced slightly.

“Could you be a little quieter, there?” Logan asked mildly.

“How dare you.” Remus clutched his heart, leaning back so far Roman was surprised he didn’t lose his balance and fall over.

Logan sighed, reaching over and placing a hand over Remus’s, gripped around the edge of the cup’s lid. “At least please be careful not to splash,” he said, guiding Remus’s hand downwards until the cup came to rest on the ground. “This textbook cost rather a lot and I’d like to sell it back in a decent condition at the end of the term.”

Remus let go of the cup, leaving it to rest where it was, and leaned forward. He took Logan’s face in both of his hands and looked seriously into their eyes. “Hey. You are my best friend in the whole world and you mean everything to me. I love you and I’m so glad we’re soulmates. But I draw the line at stopping my annoying behavior for anything less than a natural disaster.” He released Logan and picked his drink back up. “I promise I won’t spill on your book, though,” he added lightly. “Roman gets no such promises.”

“You wouldn’t dare, you know I hate being sticky—” Roman began heatedly.

“Okay, okay. Jesus. You two are really conspiring to foil all my chaotic little gremlin dealings today. I’ll order an ice water to spill on you instead, will that make you happy?” Remus snickered.

Roman frowned. “If you must,” he begrudgingly agreed, since this seemed the closest thing to a compromise he was likely to get out of Remus. He suspected it might be a joke anyway, but he wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want to take any chances.

But Remus didn’t return to the food truck, so it seemed likely that it was a joke after all. Instead, he devoted himself to more noisy slurping, crossing his eyes and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re the tallest one of us,” Roman said after a moment.

“Huh?” Remus looked up at him.

“He has a point, dear,” Logan said, turning a page.

“Like yeah I know I am, but what’s the point?” Remus asked.

“You said we were foiling your chaotic little gremlin dealings,” Roman elaborated. “You’re, like, fucking… six two.”

“And a half,” Remus added. “Emotionally, I am a chaotic creature of spite who’s about three five and can sneeze fire, though.”

“That makes no sense,” Roman protested.

“Does too,” Remus responded, crossing his arms.

“It does,” Logan agreed. “For example, emotionally, I punch that one classmate in the face twice a week, but we can’t always embody what we want to be. And you, Roman—emotionally, you’re very invested in Shakespeare, but in actuality, your interpretations are painfully bad.”

“Hey. You talking about me and Shakespeare is off limits. We’ve discussed this.” Roman waved a warning finger at them.

“I still think that’s unfair and have raised a motion to reject and overturn the ban.”

“Unfortunately for you, the judge and jury are my feelings, and you hurt them, Logan. Shakespeare and I have something special. You need to stop trying to come between us like this.”

Logan glanced up from his book to give Roman a singularly unimpressed look. “You are preposterous.”

Roman beamed at him and made a heart shape with his hands, holding it up like a picture frame to look at Logan through. “But you loooooove me,” he singsonged.

Logan nodded. “This is true.”

“You’re both nerds and Shakespeare isn’t even that good,” Remus put in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m divorcing you,” Logan said immediately.

“Noooo, come back!” Remus dramatically grasped at the air as if reaching out from afar for Logan.

“Fine.” Logan shrugged. “Then Roman’s disowning you.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”  

“He can’t disown me, he’d miss me,” Remus said confidently. “Y’all are stuck with me.” He looked very pleased with himself.

There was silence for a beat, then all three of them burst into laughter.

“I’m really glad we’re all friends,” Remus said happily, leaning back and taking another long sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, holding back a smirk. “Sometimes I think about a world where I don’t have to deal with a pair of himbos every day of my life.” He maintained his faux-serious face for all of the three seconds it took both twins to start pelting him with ripped-up blades of grass, then devolved into helpless laughter again.

***

“Patton, you good? You’ve been kind of spaced out all day.”

“Huh?” Patton looked up, blinking through his round gold-rimmed glasses. “Yeah, I’m okay! Just… boy problems, I guess? Which is… it’s new.” He wrinkled his nose for a second in a face of dissatisfaction before smoothing his face back into a smile.

“Oh? Want to talk about it?” Roman asked eagerly, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, interest definitely piqued.

“I don’t know…” Patton glanced away. “It’s complicated. And it’s probably not a big deal.”

“Patton. We are friends. The main purpose of friends is gossiping about crushes.” Roman crossed his arms. “I am offended that you would ever doubt my capacity for talking about boys in a gay way.”

“I don’t think that’s the main purpose of friendship,” Patton said, but his smile looked more genuine.

“Shush, I know that, I’m being dramatic. How about a movie night and you can spill the deets in a cozy setting with popcorn? And Logan?”

“I mean… okay,” Patton relented. “It’s probably not as exciting as you’re hoping for, though, I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense. You are perfect and so is everything you do,” Roman said absently, pulling out his phone and FaceTiming Logan.

“Roman! You’re sweet, but you know you shouldn’t go around passing out compliments that should go to you,” Patton said.

“Oh, stop,” Roman said, grinning wide.

Logan picked up on the second ring. “What do you need, Roman?”

“To see your gorgeous face, nerd. Also we’re having a movie night at me and Pat’s, attendance mandatory. Seven works, right? Pat’s having boy problems.”

Logan stared at Roman with a blank face for several beats. “And… you want me there to help… why?” he deadpanned.

“Shut up, you have a nonromantic boy toy, you’re basically qualified to help.”

“Don’t call Remus that! He’s a person, not a—wait, he’s your brother, Roman, that’s worse, that’s so weird—”

“—Anyway, I can more than handle giving Patton plenty of terrible advice on his love life,” Roman interrupted. “You’re there to tell him everything I say is a terrible idea and let me throw popcorn at you. We can watch Big Hero Six. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Logan heaved a sigh. “Fine. But you have to put your dad’s curry powder on the popcorn.”

“What kind of man do you take me for, Logan? Of course we’ll have curry popcorn! See you at seven, love you, bye bye.” Roman blew a kiss and hung up.

After his English class, Roman grabbed a burrito from the dining hall and hurried back to the dorm, making it there at half past six. Patton was already back; he made hot chocolate while Roman microwaved popcorn and tossed it in a bowl with curry powder.

At precisely seven o'clock, there was a knock on the door; Roman let Logan in and the three of them climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets Patton had built on the bottom bunk, pushing aside the bi pride flag and the Puerto Rican flag Patton had hung like curtains around his bunk.

“So,” Roman said eagerly as the movie’s opening bot fight began on the laptop screen, turning to Patton and bouncing (Logan grabbed the popcorn bowl out of Roman’s lap as it jostled), “spill!”

Patton squirmed under the attention, a half-hidden smile ghosting its way onto his face. “I don’t know… what should I talk about?”

“What’s he like?” Roman asked. “How do you know him? Is he cute? Have you got his number?”

“Oh, wow—that’s a lot.” Patton giggled nervously.

“Okay, start with is he cute?”

“He’s really cute,” Patton allowed, biting back another smile. “He’s got all these freckles all over his face and neck and hands, and his eyebrows are really expressive—he gets this really serious face when he’s thinking, and it’s… really pretty.”

“Eyes?” Roman demanded. “How are his eyes?”

“I mean, they’re eyes? They’re this kind of greyish blueish color. I don’t know, I try not to stare, especially when he’s looking, you know?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Roman relented. “What else? Is he fashionable?”

“I—not really, honestly. He mostly just wears longsleeve tees and jeans. Sometimes beanies. He has these really cute yellow converse that he always wears, though. He, like—oh, gosh, I’m not sure how to describe it. He’s not, like, fashionable like you asked, but he—kind of the way he holds himself makes it seem like he is? He wears his clothes well, I think is maybe the phrase.”

Roman nodded. “Alright. Do you know whether or not he’s queer?”

Patton hesitated. “Um… I’m not sure. I don’t know either way. But he was the only one that laughed at a bi pun I made one time, and he wore a pink shirt and yellow belt with faded jeans one time, which I might be reading way too much into but it sure looked like a sneaky pastel pan flag.”

Roman nodded very seriously, taking mental notes. “All good signs. Anything else? Any stickers on his laptop or water bottle? Pins on his backpack?”

Patton shook his head. “They’re, like, super empty. He doesn’t really do anything that tells people about his personality. His outfits are usually really plain, like I said, and everything. It’s weird, because he’s got such a distinct personality, and he really doesn’t seem like someone who’d leave his stuff unpersonalized. It’s like he’s afraid of something, or something.” Patton was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But then, he seems kind of nervous around me in general.” He looked away, a worried expression crossing his face.

“Maybe he likes you back?” Roman suggested. “Plenty of people get nervous around their crushes.”

Patton shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think I know what the thing worrying him is. I just… don’t know how to talk about it with him.”

“You do realize you’re being super vague here, right?” Roman queried; he couldn’t parse what on earth Patton meant by that, but his curiosity was piqued.

“I know.” Patton bit his lip. “I, um, don’t want to talk about it yet, I think. It’s complicated. I don’t think it would be fair to him to discuss it with others.”

“Oh.” Roman did his best to hide his disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. How do you know him?”

His attempt to change the subject didn’t seem to ease Patton’s discomfort, based on the way his shoulders drew up even closer to his ears. “...Kind of from a class we’re in together?” he answered after a long pause. “We’re partners on a group project.”

“Sounds like a meet cute to me,” Roman said, searching again for new lines of questioning that would hopefully not be as upsetting for mysterious and unknown reasons. “What do you like about him?”

Patton lit up. “He’s really sweet, actually. It takes some looking to see it, because he’s got a lot of walls up, but you can tell he’s really thoughtful and observant, and he’s really warming up to me, I think—he’s being much nicer to me than most people, and I’m starting to think he really means it and wants to be nice to me just to be nice, not because he feels like he has to.”

“Well, of course he’d be nice to you, you’re like the sweetest person I’ve met in my life,” Roman said, feeling bewildered by this line of reasoning.

“No, I—oh, nevermind. I was worried he wasn’t genuinely being nice for a while, but I’m really starting to think he means it, is my point. Anyway, he’s really smart—he’s so good at like, you know, synthesizing stuff? He’s really good at finding the information we need and paraphrasing it in a way that works really well for our project. I have such a hard time wording things how I want, you know? So it’s awesome that he can do that so well. And he’s good at puns, too! He tries not to laugh, but he scrunches his nose up and gets really red cheeks so you can always tell, it’s really cute. And one time I was trying to explain to our professor he was wrong about something, but I was kind of having trouble getting my point across, the teacher didn’t seem to get it, and he just spoke up and pointed out exactly where the misunderstanding was. It was really nice and reassuring of him. He just seems really protective of people he cares about, you know?”

“He sounds great, Pat!” Roman agreed.

Patton nodded, giving an excited little wiggle.

The brief silence was broken by a quiet crunching noise. Roman looked to his other side to see Logan, eyes fixed on the movie, who had worked their way through a solid third of the popcorn.

“Oh, you fiend!” Roman cried, seizing the popcorn bowl back since he was sitting in the middle.

“What?” Logan defended himself exasperatedly. “You two seemed to be handling that just fine! I like this movie! Neither of you asked for the popcorn back! What did I do?”

“...Okay, technically nothing,” Roman admitted after considering this defense and finding it to be unfortunately solid and covering all of Logan’s bases. God, they knew him too well. “But we are supposed to be doing this as a group.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Patton, he’s probably queer. You should ask him out and see what happens. Happy now?”

“Wh—how are you saying that with such confidence?” Roman demanded.

“Which part?”

“That he’s queer. I agree Patton should definitely ask him out at the first opportunity, we just hadn’t gotten to that yet.”

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, but being the only person in a classroom to react to a queer joke is pretty telling.” Logan shrugged. “Any other relevant details?”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t know. Janus—that’s the guy—he doesn’t talk about himself very much—”

“Hold on, Janus?” Logan interrupted. “Lanky white guy? Constantly acts like he’s just swallowed a lemon? Kind of a twink? Looks incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin? Growing his hair out?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Patton admitted. “You could maybe be nicer about him, though.”

“I’m sure I could,” Logan said, seeming unconcerned. “Yeah, I know him. He’s queer, I’m pretty sure he’s compatible with you. No idea if he’d be interested, or frankly what you see in him, but go for it.”

“Wh—how do you know him?” Roman demanded. “I feel left out now!”

“We met at the Aspec—at a pride center identity group. Also he’s Remus’s roommate’s best friend. They’re practically attached at the hip. I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet, with how much you hang out over there lately.”

Virgil had a best friend? A best friend here, at college? That was news. Surprisingly unpleasant news—Roman wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like he disliked Virgil to the point of not wanting them to have friends! Of course not! Frankly, he was glad to hear the tiny emo had a social life. It just kind of stung that this was the first time he was hearing about someone evidently so important to Virgil. And not even from hir own mouth. He’d kind of thought they were closer than that. That he’d have learned basic facts about what and who was important to Virgil by now. Learning otherwise was a remarkably unpleasant experience.

Logan took another handful of popcorn out of the bowl in Roman’s hands, startling Roman out of his thoughts.

“Stop!” he yelped. “I want some, too!”

“You have more if this bag runs out,” Logan pointed out. “I have some extra popcorn in my dorm too. And you’ve been holding out on me with your curry powder.” He popped another handful into his mouth and crossed his arms.

“If you just asked my parents, you could have some of your own! They’d even give you the recipe! Now share with Patton!” Roman leaned himself and the popcorn bowl away from Logan, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t mind,” Patton put in. “It’s very tasty, but I’m not as attached as Logan is.”

“No, you have to take some, he’s been hogging it,” Roman insisted.

“I don’t mind!” Patton insisted. Roman shoved the bowl in his face, and he relented and took a handful.

“Let Logan have some more now,” Patton said, gently pushing the bowl back into Roman’s lap.

“Thank you,” Logan said primly when Roman relented.

“You’re welcome!” Patton said with an easy smile. The smile fell away after a moment, though, and he looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure about asking Janus out, though,” he said hesitantly.

“Why not?” Roman asked. “You really sound interested in him! What have you got to lose?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Patton said, worrying the edge of a blanket between his fingers. “I’m not sure if he’d be comfortable with it. I don’t—I don’t know.” He looked away. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.” He looked back at Roman and Logan, forcing a smile onto his face. “Thank you both for the advice, though. And for listening.”

“Patton—” Roman began, concerned.

Patton shook his head. “Let’s just watch the movie now, okay? Really. Thank you. But I’m good for now. Can I have some more popcorn?”

Logan wordlessly held out the bowl and Roman allowed himself to be mostly distracted by Big Hero Six. He felt better when Patton leaned on his shoulder, a genuine smile on his face as he watched Fred goofing around on the screen. Whatever the issue Patton was dealing with was, at least it didn’t seem big enough to keep bothering him after putting it aside.

***

“So,” Remus said with an evil grin.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” Roman said. They were both sprawled on Remus’s bed, sharing earbuds as Remus swiped through TikTok.

“It’s nothing!” Remus protested.

Roman gave him a suspicious look. Remus’s face was entirely too innocent.

“I was just wondering when you’re going to get your shit together and do something about your crush on Virgil,” Remus said, the evil grin back.

“My what?” Roman did a double take. “I—I don’t have a crush on Virgil, we barely even get along!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. The tension between you two is so high I’m surprised something hasn’t snapped yet. And you definitely have a crush.”

“I do not!” Roman grabbed Remus’s pillow and threw it in his brother’s face. “We’re barely even friends!”

Remus shoved the pillow aside and rested his chin on top of it, making a skeptical face.

“I mean, are they really pretty? Sure. But that’s not a crush,” Roman insisted.

“Mmhm. Okay. So what makes it not a crush?” Remus pressed.

“I—well—” Roman stammered, flustered by the very question.

“Uh-huh.”

“No!” Roman snapped, voice cracking. “I just—that’s a hard question to answer right off the bat! How do you define a crush? It’s just not, okay?”

“I mean, I define crush as, like…” Remus paused. “Huh. Okay. You have a point, or whatever. I guess… a crush is, like—huh. No. Okay. You’re distracting me. I’m teasing you about your crush that you totally do have, we are not veering off topic.”

“I do not have a crush on Virgil! I just want to be his friend! Okay?”

Remus made a skeptical face. “Sure, whatever you say. I’m still going to tease you about it.”

“Oh, whenever you find that third soulmate, I am getting so much revenge.”

“Eh.” Remus shrugged. “Like, go for it, but I dunno if you’ll have that much time to tease me about it before we get together. You know? Like, think about me and Logan.”

“Logan knew you were soulmates for two and a half years before you got togeth—”

“Yeah, because he’s smart, but I didn’t figure it out until thirty minutes before we got together. Or like. Thirty minutes before we started talking about it. You know this.”

Roman crossed his arms. This was unfortunately a very good point; the day Remus had figured out that Logan was one of his soulmates had been a pretty memorable one even for Roman. Logan and the twins had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends since elementary school. One Saturday morning near the end of their senior year of high school, Remus had bolted upright in bed while Roman was brushing his teeth, blurted out something nigh incomprehensible, and taken off at a sprint; he’d slammed the front door behind himself on his way out and he hadn’t answered any of Roman’s texts for two hours, only to show up by sprinting back into the house and screaming at the top of his lungs “Logan and I are soulmates!”

This had prompted a lot of confused questioning from Roman. He’d learned that yes, Remus and Logan were definitely soulmates; Logan had figured it out in sophomore year but hadn’t said anything; Remus had only just figured it out; yes, Logan was still aromantic; yes, Remus was still allo; no, neither of them felt like either of these facts was an issue; and Remus was very happy.

“We’re going on, like, a date, but platonic,” Remus had announced to him that day, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m really excited, this is so cool! Who’d have thought, right? Logan and me!”

Roman had smiled and tried hard to just be happy for Remus and Logan, and not jealous of them. Particularly about two months later, when they’d made their relationship official and become queerplatonic partners. He was happy for them! He was!

But Remus had never cared that much about finding his soulmates. Roman had. It didn’t feel fair. Remus, who didn’t care, got two soulmates, and one of them was literally his childhood best friend. Roman, who’d been daydreaming about finding his soulmate since he was too little to remember, and had learned just about everything there was to know about how soulbonds worked, seemed to have just the usual one soulmate. His soulbond hadn’t even developed until he was sixteen—admittedly, that was an expected side effect of the puberty blockers he’d been on for a few years before he’d been approved for T, but he was still salty about it. And when his soulbond finally had developed and he’d started tuning into his soulmate’s dreams, they were so creepy! He wasn’t sure he’d had a single souldream so far that wasn’t a nightmare. They ruined his sleep for the night whenever he got one. It was irritating and frustrating and all sorts of bad things; he’d actually cried over it a couple of times, not that anyone but Remus knew.

But as annoying as it was for him, it had to be worse for his poor soulmate—if these nightmares were what was making it through the soulbond, he could only imagine how much worse their nightly sleep must be.

He hoped he’d find them soon. He was ready for a proper romance, thank you very much!

[soda-pop-kandy-krush]

logince (idk if i spelt that right, sorry) for the otp questions?

yesssss logince! here we go!

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1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

logaaaaaan, he definitely has one of those laughs where it’s absolutely uncontrollable once you get him going- like he literally CAN’T stop giggling. it’s such a stark contrast from his usual proper/aloof demeanour, he’s all snarky eye rolls until you start tickling him and suddenly this loud, happy, squealing laughter comes out of nowhere and it’s like !!!!!! ugh the CUTEST thing ever

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2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

logan, like virgil, definitely has ticklish ears and roman definitely loves to kiss them and make him shriek and scrunch his neck up like a turtle asghdjgh BUT i also think he has ticklish wrists, and they’ll be cuddling and roman will hold one hand and gently scribble along his forearm up to his elbow with reeeeally light feathery touches because it makes him all shivery and giggly

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3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

i swear the only person who could out-grump roman is logan ahshjsgjdh he’s always like >:((( when things don’t go his way so it’s definitely the nerd who gets it the most. plus roman loves to bug and playfully tease him, so what better way to cheer him up than with something that’s a little bit annoying but also just about silly enough that it doesn’t actually irritate him, so it’s kind of perfect! (also, logan secretly loves it and will act like even more of a sarcastic grouch than usual to get cheer-up tickies hehe)

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4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

logan does this to roman for SURE omg, but he’s always super sneaky about it, he’ll walk past him as he’s changing and quickly wiggle a finger against his side and make roman shriek and fight his way through the arm holes and collar and be like THAT WAS RUDE and logan will be completely straight-faced like ???? are you talking to me?? and for some reason it’s just way way more flustering than if he were to be super teasy about it ahsgsgh

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5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

this is so cliché but it was absolutely because roman had been pestering logan to come and hang out all day, but logan is super busy and so tries to ignore him, but it gets to a point where he’s just had enough and so the next time roman comes into his room and whines ‘pleeeeease can we do something together please please please-’ logan just holds up a finger and silences him before standing up, shoving him onto the bed, and proceeding to give him the wrecking of his life. like, how did he manage to figure out all of roman’s worst spots without even touching him? nobody knows!

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6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

lo-loooooo, they make him cackle, especially when you get his neck or shoulder blades and pair it with little kisses. he has such a silly laugh when you get him real good and he hates it- so naturally, roman is obsessed with it and will do everything he can to hear it as often as possible, which often means catching him by surprise and pinning him on his front so he can’t block his head or wriggle away ashdfgfh

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7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

roman!! logan is an early-bird, and so if roman isn’t bright-eyed and ready to go by 8:00AM sharp, the tickle monster has to make an emergency visit to his room to come and wake him up. BUT on the weekends even logan likes to sleep in a little, so sometimes roman will actually be awake before him... and in that case, it would only be fair to give him the same treatment (since roman usually can’t get the jump on him when he’s awake without logan’s crazy spider senses kicking in and turning the tables almost immediately)

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8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

poor roman doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to logan lmaoooo, he now knows better than to go poking the bear when he isn’t prepared for the consequences because he’s so precise and methodical about it and it’s SO FLUSTERING AGSHDHDGH- he literally knows every single one of roman’s tickle spots in order and knows exactly how to pin him so that he can’t escape or get him back or anything, and roman literally just has to lay there and take it ((within reason ofc, he would never make him uncomfortable!!) and it’s absolute torture in the best way

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9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

honestly i think both of them would be pretty safe!! because logan doesn’t really kick (unless you go for his feet) and roman couldn’t even if he wanted to asdfhdhsgh

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10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

again, i feel like roman would think he’s being sneaky about it but realistically, logan can tell immediately and so will pretend he doesn’t realise what roman is doing/wants and roman will get turn all sulky and grumble something like ‘ ‘anted you to tickle me...’ thinking logan would continue to ignore him, but then logan’s ears perk up and he’s like ‘what was that, roman?’ and roman is like 😳😳😳 and refuses to say it again so logan’s like ‘fine, then. i suppose i’ll have to resort to another method to make you talk’ and finally tickles him and roman is shrieking/cackling way too hard to notice but inside he’s all like 🥰 because he loves it LOL

and with logan, i feel like roman wouldn’t really draw it out tooooo too long, because he rarely makes any kind of move to ‘ask’ for it. but it’s so easy to tell when he wants it because he gets really affectionate and cuddly and will like, snuggle up to him in bed and be all chatty and rest his head against his chest and stuff (kind of like virgil!!), so really it would just be a horrible waste of an opportunity for roman to NOT pin his wrists above his head and and smother him in tickly kisses yknow???

[hteragram-x]

Firefighter AU [again]

New story for the AU. This time about Virgil wondering who the hell is Logan. Also, apparently, Virgil’s main personality trait in this universe is thinking that Remus is very pretty and then being like: “hey! who said that?!”.

If it’s the first time you see this AU I think you can still understand what’s going on without reading older posts, but in case you’re interested: [HERE] is the introduction, [HERE] are some general HCs, over [THERE] you can find a story where Remus and Virgil met for the first time, and [HERE] is previous story :>

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Word count: 2240

Relationships: technically Dukexiety, but they’re not there yet; Creativitwins

TW: mentions of fire (what a surprise), small injury, mentions of blood, some animal bones, swearing (because I’m mentally 12 and think that swearwords are fucking hilarious)

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Because Logan Said So

             Over the last four months Virgil has learnt a lot about his new co-workers. Not every information he managed to gather was particularly interesting or even worth remembering, but having that knowledge helped with making the new workplace more familiar. And familiarity brought comfort.

           He learnt, for example, that their janitor – Jeremy – was the most grumpy and easily annoyed person in the entire firehouse despite being the youngest janitor Virgil has ever met. It was relatively easy to avoid him most of the time, but if he wanted everyone to know about his problems with something you would be informed that he’s unhappy regardless of your own involvement, or lack thereof, in the situation.

           Virgil also learnt that Anna was pretty helpful when it came to failing equipment and technology. They weren’t employed to do the repairs, but it didn’t stop them from trying to fix everything anyway. The guy with very short hair, whose name Virgil could never remember, was leaving his helmet in unexpected places and had three kids that he talked about all the time. Alex was often late, but always stayed at work longer than anyone. And that one girl everyone called Apple for some unknown reason was currently building a house and you couldn’t escape hearing about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to at the moment.

           Talking to Virgil about issues he wasn’t that interested in seemed to be the common thing among most of his co-workers.

           Pretty standard stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

           What was also not out of ordinary was the bird skull lying on his desk this Tuesday.

           “Remus! Is this a gift or are you just leaving your stuff all over the office again!?”, he half-yelled knowing that the younger twin had to be somewhere in the building at this hour. Not that he memorized his schedule or something. He just knew…

           Suddenly a head with a mass of unkempt hair and spider webs on top of it popped from under his desk. It was not the first time Remus was staying there, but Virgil still winced seeing the man crawling from the tiny space. It cannot be comfortable, he though for probably fifteenth time.

           “There’s no way it’s comfortable in there,” he pointed out, also for fifteenth time.

           “It isn’t”, Remus said, like he always did and smiled, stretching his long arms above his head. Even without his shoes – he always walked around the office in just his socks, because of course he did – he was still much taller than Virgil which somehow managed to fluster him more every time he noticed the difference.

           Virgil decided to ignore the futile argument instead pointing at the skull and a couple of sticks he’s just noticed next to his computer.

           “Can you keep your mess out of my desk?”

           “You didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me today”, Remus pouted.

           “I’ll say ‘hi’ when you take your stuff from my space,” he sighed.

           Remus groaned, his arms hanging loosely at his sides in resignation.

           “God… you sound like Logan.”

           A-ha! There he is. This mysterious “Logan”, whoever he was.

           Over the last four months Virgil has learnt a lot about his new co-workers. But no other person was as interesting and worth knowing as Remus himself. The number of weird quirks Virgil has memorized about the guy was unmatched by any other person working at the firehouse which was in no way a surprising score given the circumstances in which they’ve met.

           He was weird in so many ways that it almost seemed normal again. And according to Roman he used to be even more chaotic and unpredictable when the twins were younger. At first Virgil was pretty nervous around the guy – with all of his jokes about violence or with his creepy staring – but now this… interesting behaviour became just a normal and entirely expected part of his days.

           If Remus run into the room and didn’t stop until he hit the wall… fine. Virgil just checked if the guy was okay and went back to work. If he bit the bar of soap… also fine. You just had to make sure he didn’t swallow it all and forget about it for the rest of your day. When he left some of his most disturbing sketches on the fridge, you just commented on his skills as an artist or flipped them, so the picture was facing the door of the fringe, if the drawing was particularly disgusting.

           A standard day with Remus.

           Apparently talking about some “Logan” that no one ever met was also a standard part of his character. And Virgil was very annoyed at himself knowing how jealous he sometimes felt because of this mysterious guy. The jealousy, however, seemed to weaken a bit when he realized that Roman was also bringing the name up almost every day. It started to sound like an inside joke that Virgil was too nervous to ask about.

           “Okay! Your desk’s just as clean as my legs yesterday when I jumped into the river to find a shiny stone, but it was a broken bottle, so I got glass stuck in my hand!” Remus smiled even wider, showing a little too many teeth and lifting his palm with three fingers covered in bandages.

           Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose.

           “Why do you have zero self-control?”, he asked, very much aware that the question was pointless.

           No one knew. And if someone did know, it definitely wasn’t Remus.

           “Sounds like a question Logan would ask”, said Roman who has just appeared out of nowhere behind Virgil. The shorter man shivered a little, not expecting anyone except for Alex who was finishing his shift to be in the room with them.

           “It does!”, Remus agreed poking the bandages with a finger. Knowing him, Virgil assumed he wanted to check if it’ll make the wound open and colour the fabric with blood. “And like I said, I just cleaned up your desk.” The firefighter moved much closer to Virgil towering over him with some different kind of smile. He really was smiling a lot for a person, who wanted to appear at least a little scary most of the time. “Where’s my ‘hi’?”

           The shorter man glanced up at him, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed with the whole situation and all of his conflicting feelings. It definitely wasn’t the first time he found himself in a position like that. He should have got used to Remus being annoying and invading his personal space long ago. Or maybe he did get used to that and he was just confused by the fact that he really… didn’t mind?

           “Hi,” he said finally, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

           “Hello,” Remus answered with something twinkling in his green eyes.

           There was a minute of silence. None of them seemed to want to move.

           “You’re both gross,” said Roman decisively and ruined the moment by rolling his eyes and walking right between them to the adjacent kitchen.

           Virgil felt blush creeping up his neck. He completely forgot about the second twin being in the room with them. Wouldn’t be the first time he got distracted like that.

           And he couldn’t even get mad at Roman… that was a little bit gross. …In a good way.

           “You can keep the bird skull if you want to. I planned to paint it and add to my new sculpture, but I have plenty more to use instead.”

           Virgil was more than grateful for the change of the topic.

           “No, thanks. But show me the sculpture once it’s done.”

           That was apparently a right thing to say, because Remus looked very satisfied with himself which was always nice. Virgil really liked to see him so cheerful, even when it meant complimenting some naturalistic painting or listening to his unsettling ideas. He was even more handsome when he seemed genuinely happy… wait, what?

           Virgil coughed nervously and quickly moved to the desk, putting his bag down and turning the computer on. When he was adjusting the headset and checking his microphone he looked back at Remus and gave him a little shy wave.

           “Don’t set yourself on fire today,” he said using their usual equivalent of ‘good bye’.

    ��      “No promises!”, was a standard reply.

 ***

             Roman grabbed a bag of gummy worms from Remus’ hand preventing him from showing them all into his mouth at once.

           “Stop eating so much sweets. You’ll already too energetic today.”

           Remus shrugged and took a long sip of some energy drink he’d been hiding behind his back.

           “Don’t tell me what to do.”

           “It cannot be healthy for you!” Roman tried to grab the can as well, but Remus was sitting on the kitchen counter, so he easily lifted it out of his brother’s reach.

           “Why?!” he asked in a whiny tone.

           “Because Logan said so!”

           “No, he didn’t.”

           “But he would if he was standing here right now.”

           “…fine!”

           Remus jumped off the counter sending his twin annoyed look, but he put the drink away, only now noticing his slightly shaky hands. He hasn’t said anything to not give Roman the satisfaction and moved to the changing room to dress for their upcoming training.

           Virgil followed him with his eyes, not even trying to hide the confusion. Remus almost never did anything, because it was healthy or responsible. What was happening?

           Who the hell is Logan?

---

           “Roman! …Roman! ROMAN!!!”, Remus looked up seeing his brother sitting atop the fire engine with a book. It was his favourite place to escape the noise, people… and work. “Get down here, you lazy motherfucker! We’re moving the old hoses to the new room.”

           “Have fun then!”

           “They’re heavy! Come back here and help me!”

           “I’m busy…” Roman looked at Remus from behind the book, hoping he’d just get bored and walk away. “And you can lift them yourself, come on.”

           “No, I can’t! They’re packed in those bigger boxes. If I do this myself I’ll drop them on my feet or hurt my back and Logan said it’s dangerous!” Remus smirked, already knowing he won the argument. “And do you really want to leave me unsupervised?”

           “Okay, okay. I’ll help… It’s not your fault you’re a weak baby!”

           The rest of the conversation was too quiet for Virgil to hear through the open window from the garages below. The twins probably moved to the other room to finish the task. And Roman, who truly didn’t like this kind of repetitive labour, helped without much complaining… Strange.

           Who the fuck was Logan?

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           “Roman, you forgot the scarf. It’s freezing. Logan said you’ll catch a cold!”

           “Logan would already give you a lecture for sleeping on a chair like that… At least move to the floor… I’ll bring you some blankets… Yes, I know it’s 4am. You think I’m happy about it?”

           “If Logan saw the mess you’ve made he be so disappointed with you…”

           “Okay, stop staring at cute boys and get back to work! Just imagine if Logan saw you right now. It’s pathetic. Oh… is my little brother blushing?”

           “What do you mean ‘why’? Just stay safe. Because Logan said so!”

           “Because Logan said so!”

 ***

             “Okay… who the hell is Logan?”

           Remus looked at Virgil from the axe he’s been sharpening on the office floor. He was clearly confused, not expecting anyone to talk to him after Roman left the room a few seconds ago.

           “What?”

           Virgil gripped the fabric of his trousers nervously.

           “I’ve asked who’s Logan.” There was a moment of silence. “You… you two keep bringing him up and I… I know that no one with that name works here and no one else is ever talking about this guy. If it’s a guy.” He stopped himself before he started rambling. “So… Who is Logan?”

           Remus was looking at him with a very weird set of emotions in his eyes. It was impossible to decipher what he was thinking or feeling at the moment which was pretty unusual for a person who was normally so open with what he thought or felt.

           Finally he went back to cleaning the axe lying on his knees.

           “Wouldn’t you like to know operator boy…” he said with a smirk.

           Virgil blinked, even more perplexed.

           “Y-yes! That’s why… Of course I want to know! That’s why I asked in the first place!”

           This time Remus openly laughed as if Virgil just told him a joke. It was one of his loudest and wildest laughs that most people learnt to ignore after working with Remus for a while, but it was still pretty creepy for anyone unfamiliar with the firefighter’s personality. Virgil would find it pretty pleasant to listen to if it wasn’t meant to mock him at the moment.

           “I don’t know what’s so funny…” he said defensively. He already regretted ever asking the question. Maybe it was a wrong moment? Maybe he should have asked Roman instead?

           “Of course you don’t! Oh, the irony…”

           He was very close to asking “what’s the irony”, but decided against it. Apparently he wasn’t getting any actual answers right now. Okay. He could wait and be patient when he wanted to. He’s already been waiting for months before the curiosity finally pushed him to say anything. There were other ways to get that information. It might be a difficult task, but he’ll learn the truth… eventually.

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General writing taglist: @imma-potatoo

Taglist for this AU: @isabelle-stars @wintersandsunshine

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or removed from it :>

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 18

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 3992

Chapter Warnings: Minor Swearing (Let me know if there's anything else I need to add!)  

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     A faint light peeked over the horizon as Virgil reluctantly made his way back up to Emile's door. He choked in a breath as he paused at the bottom of the steps to catch his breath. His whole body ached from the effort he exhausted tonight. He couldn’t remember a time he’d run himself this ragged, but he'd been desperate to find his friend and the lack of a trail had driven him to push himself farther than he would have thought possible. The initial search of the area where they'd left Logan had turned up nothing, so he’d spent the rest of the night combing the nearby acres of the forest for any clue to where he'd been taken. Forcing himself to break only when feared he may collapse, he'd spent the better part of the night running through the woods.

    Virgil swallowed deeply, leaning on the exterior wall of Emile's house. Hanging his head between his knees, he tried desperately to ease the burning in his lungs. He felt tears in his eyes as the ache in lungs began to fade. He growled in frustration, trying to find the willpower to go inside and face his friends. He choked in another ragged breath trying to squash the rising emotions in his chest.There wasn't a deal he wouldn't have made to not be coming back empty-handed right now, but he had to put on a confident front. He need to be strong for Roman and Patton. He needed to believe Logan was going to be okay.

    God, Logan. Why'd I let you do this?

    He swallowed in another breath forcing himself to be calm as he hurried to the door. Agitation prickled under his skin as he lunged up the stairs to the door of Emile’s house. He hesitated, debating briefly on whether he should knock. On any other day, he wouldn't feel the need, but given what everyone had been through tonight, he didn't want to surprise anyone. He raised a hand to the door, knocking quietly before slowly pushing the door open. Poking his head inside the door, he slowly slipped into the dimly lit living space.

    The fire had nearly burned out and a soft warm light flickered weakly. Movement from the couch caught his attention and he looked over to see Roman lift his head. Virgil smiled at the sight of Patton curled up in Roman’s arms. He leaned gently against Roman's chest, snoring peacefully. Virgil released the breath he'd been holding, relieved to see Patton had woken long enough to change into dry clothes. He glanced around for Emile, noticing for the first time that he was nowhere to be seen. Virgil  blinked in surprise that Emile had allowed Roman out of his sight. He assumed Emile had tried to give his friends some space, but doubt crept under his skin about his willingness to do so. He felt his eyes drift to Emile’s bedroom door, wondering what aftermath awaited him when Emile finally got the chance to speak to him alone.

    “Hey.” Roman's soft whisper broke the silence, drawing Virgil’s attention back to his friend.

    His expression softened as he moved across the room and kneeled next to Roman on the couch. A pang of guilt that seized his heart as he watched Roman's expression change, realizing Logan wasn't with him.

    “Hey, princey.” Virgil whispered back, quietly avoiding Roman's gaze to stare down at Patton.

    “No luck?”

    Virgil bit his lip at Roman's carefully neutral tone. He shook his head regretfully, feeling an empty feeling in his chest as he stared down at Patton. “I’m sorry, princey. I really tried.”

   “Virge—” Roman started to sit up, but stopped as Patton stirred on his chest. He paused for a moment, waiting for Patton to settle, before speaking softly. “ Don't apologize. I'm sure you did everything you could.”

    “There was no trail to follow, princey.” Virgil faltered and slowly turned his head up to Roman. Guilt filled his chest and his voice rasped with effort as struggled against his burning lungs.

    “What do you mean?” Roman met his eyes with a suspicious stare.

    “I went back to where—” Virgil paused, gritting his teeth. “—to where we left him, princey.There were no footprints but our own. No broken branches or trampled grass. Nothing for me to follow. I couldn't even be able to guess where they took him.”

    Roman blinked and searched Virgil’s face in confusion. “How is that even possible?”

    Virgil sighed and gave Roman a knowing look. He could almost see the gears turned in Roman's head, before the realization finally clicked.

    “Magic.”

    “Powerful stuff, too.” Virgil reached a hand over to brush Patton’s damp hair out of his eyes, before turning his darkened eyes up at Roman. “Even a powerful no-trace spell only lasts a few minutes, and I scoured every inch of that stretch of the forest.”

     "Okay... I understand how Remus and his associates may not have left a trace," Roman looked down at him serious expression. “but shouldn’t Logan have at least left a trail?”

     “Not if one of those goons carried him off.” Virgil’s voice was bitter, edging on hateful as he remembered the fear in Logan's eyes as Virgil had turned to leave him. “God, princey. The thought of them putting their hands on him—”

    “I know, Virgil.” Roman cut him off bitterly, scowling at the thought.

    Virgil couldn't bring himself to meet Roman's eyes,turning back down to stare down at Patton again. A thought had  crossed his mind, but he hesitated briefly, feeling worse. “I-I thought I heard him at one point.”

    "What?"

    He frowned at the despair in Roman's voice. Regret gnawed at his stomach at being here instead of searching for his missing friend. “Maybe it was a trick of the wind, or maybe they silenced him before I could reach him. I don't know if it was real, princey. It was so short. I searched everywhere in the area, but I didn't hear it again.”

    Patton stirred slightly, curling into Roman. They both turned their gaze down to Patton, waiting for him to settle before they continued. Roman turned his head back to him with a serious expression.

    “We're going to get him back, Virge.” Roman paused, taking a slow breath. "We may not have tracked him down tonight, but we'll get him."

    “I know, princey. We're not giving up on him,” Virgil attempted a confident smile as he looked up at Roman, but it faltered slightly as anxiety took its hold on him. “But I don't like the idea of the trail going cold on us. It's going to be so much more difficult to find Logan without a starting point.”

     Roman didn't falter, gritting his teeth bitterly. “We’re not starting with nothing. I know my brother. He'll keep Logan closeby.”

    “I don't know if I should feel better or worse about that, princey.” Virgil leaned back onto the ground sitting cross-legged and looking up at Roman.

    “I'll admit it's not a comfortable thought,” Roman looked down at Patton. Virgil could see unshed tears glistening in Roman's eyes as he ran his hand through Patton's hair. “But it means we have a chance of getting him back, Virge. That's what we need to focus on right now.”

    “I know but I still don't like it." Virgil gestured down at Patton. “How's he doing?”

    “I think he's going to be okay.” Roman sighed, turning back to Virgil as he absentmindedly stroked Patton's hair. “He told me that he was left alone for the majority of the time they held him.”

    “He didn't hurt Patton. Not physically, anyway. I could tell that much when I was getting rid of Patton's wet clothes." Virgil sighed. “Couple bumps and bruises, but nothing surprising since I doubt they were gentle when they moved him from place to place.”

    Roman exhaled and Virgil could see some of the tension leave his body. "I suppose that's one thing we have to be grateful for, then."

    Virgil paused, deep in thought as he watched Roman staring down at Patton. A frown twitched at the corner of his mouth as an disconcerting thought crossed his mind. “Princey?”

    Roman turned back to him his expression seriously.

    “Not that I'm not grateful he's okay, but what gives?” Virgil paused, anxiously biting the tip of his thumb. He turned his gaze to Roman, gesturing stiffly. “I can't be the only one who thinks it strange for Remus to have held him for as long as he did without anything happening. After knowing what happened to Logan, this seems way too good to be true.”

    Roman sighed. “No, you're not the only one who thinks it strange.”

    Virgil rested a hand in his chin. “So what gives, princey?”

    “It’s not worth trying to guess his reasons, Virgil. There's no rhyme or reason to what he does. He’s just destructive.” Roman's voice had started off angry, but Virgil could hear the sadness creeping into his voice. He could almost see Roman abandon the thought as he looked down at Patton with exhaustion. “Patton's feeling guilty, Virge.”

    “Of course, he is. I wouldn't expect anything less from Patton.” He cast a worried glance down at their sleeping friend. “He’s going to be miserable until Logan’s home safe.”

    Roman sighed sadly. “I think we all are.”

    Virgil nodded and they were quiet for a moment, watching Patton breathe as he slept on Roman's chest. Finally, tired of the silence, Virgil pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over them, resting his head on his crossed arms. “So, I see you managed to chase off Emile.”

    “What? No!”

    Virgil raised an eyebrow at Roman’s appalled exclamation. His response came a little too quick, and from the expression on Roman's face, he knew it. Virgil watched as Roman pulled back, avoiding eye contact as he whispered quietly to Virgil.

    “Of course not. I was perfectly cordial to him.”

    Virgil stared at him in confusion, before smirking gently at the prince. “I was only joking, princey. If one of you was going to pick a fight while I was gone, I knew it would have been Emile.”

    Roman took a while to respond, and even in the dim light, Virgil could see redness in Roman's cheeks when he finally responded. “He was fine, Virge.”

    "Roman?" Virgil narrowed his eyes at Roman’s soft reply. “What happened while I was gone?”

    Virgil watched as Roman looked up in surprise at him using Roman's proper name. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect he was hoping for and seemed to only further fluster his friend. He seemed to barely manage to squeeze out a response. “Nothing bad happened, Virgil.”

    Virgil could hear the slightest tremble in his voice. Virgil tilted his head, furrowing his brow. “I know that, Roman. You'd never do anything to hurt him and Emile wouldn’t have left you alone with Patton, if you hadn’t earned at least a modicum of his trust.”

    Roman turned his head down, mouth hanging open vacantly as he tried to collect his thoughts.

    “Something clearly happened though.”

    “I think—” Roman paused, looking slowly up at Virgil. “We had some issues to resolve, and I believe I earned at least some degree of mutual respect.”

    Virgil looked shocked for a moment before he smirked playfully at Roman, almost giddy with excitement. “Oh, I am going to give Emile so much shit for this.”

    “What? Why?” Roman looked at him in confusion, but the confusion quickly gave way to the anxiety he’d been holding back. “Don’t do that. I only just convinced him to not openly hate me.”

    “Don’t worry, princey. He’s not going to hate you again because I antagonize him a little." Virgil chuckled. "I daresay the both of you have come to expect it from me.”

    Roman hesitated, until Virgil’s expression softened.

    “Seriously, Roman.” Virgil smiled warmly at him. “I’ve been telling Emile for years that if he only agreed to meet you, he’d change his mind and I love being right.”

    Roman stared at him absently for a moment. “You wanted me to meet him?”

    “Of course, I did.” Virgil blew his bangs out of his eyes, casually resting his face in his hand. “Do you know how difficult it was for me to keep a secret from you?”

    A strange look crossed Roman’s face. “You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to Virgil.”

    “Don’t you think I know that?” Virgil smiled widely at him, expecting a returned smile. His smile lasted only a moment before Roman’s downcast eyes sent realization surging through his body. “Oh shit, princey.  You don't, do you?”

    Roman was quiet, staring down at Patton.

    "I wanted to tell you, Roman. Not out of any obligation, but because you're my friend and I wanted to share that part of my life with you." Virgil smiled encouragingly at Roman. "Emile's important to me and so are you, princey. Of course, I wanted you to meet him."

    "I—" Warmth swelled in Roman's chest as he struggled to form a response to Virgil's kind words

    Patton stirred again, and Roman breathed a sigh of relief as Virgil’s attention was drawn away from him. Patton’s eyes fluttered open slightly for a moment, and he stared blankly up at them for a second. Only a moment passed before his eyelids began to droop again, and Virgil wondered if he may just drift back to sleep. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as recognition flashed across Patton's face, and he suddenly shot upright. Virgil's smile fades as Patton's eyes darted around the room. A pang of guilt settled in Virgil's stomach as he watched Patton's face pale and turn back to look at him. “Virgil?”

    Virgil’s eyes flicked briefly back to Roman. “This conversation isn’t over, princey. It's not over until you understand how much you mean to me. Got it?”

     A smile tugged at the corner of Roman's mouth and he nodded. “Alright, Virge.”

    "Good." Virgil smiled briefly at Roman turning back to Patton. “Come now, Pat. Don't look so sad to see me.”

    “I-I'm not. I just—Where’s—” He stuttered, starting to hyperventilate.

    “Hey now, Pat. It's all good. We're here with you.” Virgil sat up, kneeling on the ground next to Patton as he reached out to grab his hand. He couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face at the sight of Patton’s arm being enveloped by his old, oversized cloak. “Just breathe, okay?”

    Patton nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Roman gently rubbed Patton's shoulder until he collected himself.

    “You didn't find him, Virgil?”

    “Not yet, but we'll get him.” Virgil’s calm expression faltered at the brokenness in Patton’s voice, but he forced himself to smile gently at his friend. “Princey and I are going back out for him, and together we're unstoppable, Pat.”

    Patton couldn't resist smiling proudly at him. “You sure are, kiddo.”

    Virgil jumped to his feet. “First though, we need to get you back home.”

    “Virgil, no. I can’t go home. Logan needs—” Patton protested as he sat up, but his speech trailed off as his head started to spin.

    “Don’t argue with me, Pat." Virgil cut him off sternly. "You need to rest. Who knows what's still in your system?”

    “But Logan—”

    “Will be fine. It will do him more harm than good if you pass out and have to take the time to bring you back." Virgil paused, smiling patiently at Patton's defiant glare. "Princey and I will be out looking for him. The best thing you can do for Logan right now is rest. He may need your care once we find him.”

    Patton glared at him, but couldn't argue with his logic. “Fine.”

    “You can stay in my chambers.” Roman said, squeezing Patton's shoulder. “I'll post some guards so you can rest easy.”

    Patton nodded, resigned.

    “Good. We need to get going then. I'd prefer to skip town before anyone here wakes up. I don't exactly have many friends here.” Roman raised an eyebrow at him and Virgil smirked. “It's a story for another day. princey. Right now, we need to go. I'm going to let Emile know we're going. Get ready to go. Okay?”

    “‘Kay, Virgil.” Patton mumbled, leaning off Roman’s chest.

    Virgil nodded and turned to move to the door that Emile had exited through earlier. He knocked quietly before slipping out of the room. Roman watched him quietly for a moment before turning to watch Patton pushing himself off the cushions. A slip of his hand on the soft fabric sent him stumbling as he stepped off the couch. A jolt of panic shot through Roman as he moved to catch Patton, but his unsteady friend caught himself before he needed to intervene.

    “Careful, Pat.”

    “M’fine, Ro.” Patton swayed, a discontented look on his face.

    “Patton—” Roman stood up and reached out to him, only stopping as Patton turned away from him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to get through to his friend through his guilt. “Pat, I’m worried about him too.”

    Patton’s demeanor shifted and he let out a defeated sigh. “I know you are, Ro.”

    “It’s more my fault than yours, Pat. I agree to let him follow through on his dangerous plan.” Roman swallowed and Patton's shoulders slumped. "That's on me, not you."

    “Ro, it’s not your fault.” Patton muttered weakly.

    “I know it’s not,” Roman reached his hand out and placed it on Patton’s shoulder, gently turning Patton around to face him. Patton dropped his head, avoiding eye contact. “You wouldn’t dream of blaming me though, even though I was the one to actually allow him to go through with his dangerous plan. It’s not fair for you to hold yourself to a higher standard than you would either of us.”

    Patton exhaled slowly, looking up at Roman. “I know. I’m just worried about him, Ro. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

    “He’s going to come home, Pat. We’ll get him.”

    "I want to help find him."

    "I know you do, but Virgil's right." Roman smiled encouragingly at him. "You have skills that Virgil and I don't, and depending on what's happened to him, he may need you most of all. We need you to be ready."

    Patton glanced up at Roman and nodded just as Virgil stepped back into the room, followed shortly by Emile.

    “Are you ready to go?” Virgil rushed to gather his possessions, looking at them for an answer

    Roman nodded slowly, frowning with concern at the suddenly exhausted look on Virgil’s face. “We’re ready. Are you sure you’re okay though, Virge?”

    Virgil smiled faintly up at Roman. “I’ll be okay when we get him back.”

    “If you need to take a break—"

    “I’ll take a break when he’s home, princey.”

    “Virge—”

    “Roman,” Virgil glanced nervously at Patton who had crossed his arms at him disapprovingly, before turning back to Roman. “I’m fine. I promise I will tell you both if I need to stop. Right now isn't the time to argue about this.”

     Roman raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt your judgement of your limits, but I hope you will tell you before you over extend yourself.”

    "I will." Virgil shrugged. “Please. Let’s just go, princey. We’ve wasted enough time here already.”

    “Fine, Virge,” Roman turned his head up and looked past him to where Emile stood watching them. “But first, I need you to be a witness for me. I owe Emile a prince's oath.”

    “You what?” Virgil spun to face Emile, who flinched back at Virgil's harsh tone. “What did you ask him to do, Em?”

    “Virgil, relax.” Roman reassured Virgil as he stepped forward. He put a hand on Virgil's shoulder and waited until he turned his head back to Roman. "Emile didn’t ask anything of me. I offered my oath as a prince to ease his anxiety over me being here.”

    Virgil glanced back and forth between Emile’s nervous expression and Roman’s reassuring smile. “That kind of oath is serious, princey. There’s serious consequences if you break one. You could lose everything, and you're asking me to be the one to take it from you if you break your word.”

    “I’m aware, Virgil. I only intend to promise to keep this place a secret.”

    “You’d do that anyway, princey.” Virgil growled, growing uncomfortable staring between his two friends.

    “I know, Virge.” Roman smiled at him. “That’s why I’m willing to take an oath.”

    “I don’t—" All eyes turned to Emile as he interrupted their conversation. He stepped forward, glancing between them. “After our conversation, I no longer believe a prince's oath is necessary, Roman, though I still expect you to keep both of the promises you made to me tonight.”

    Roman glanced at Virgil, who had turned to him in concern. He smiled reassuringly at his friend before turning back to Emile. “I don’t think I’ll be able to avoid keeping my other promise to you.”

    Emile nodded, his eyes flicking briefly over to Virgil’s confused expression. He slowly straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned his gaze to Roman. “Then, I am satisfied.”

    Roman smiled faintly. “I appreciate your trust Emile, but I intend to give you my oath anyway. I don’t want you to feel pressured by Virgil’s clear disapproval.”

    “Princey,” Virgil pleaded. “I don’t want to be responsible for reporting you.”

   “Virgil, you’ll only be responsible if I break the oath,” Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Do you doubt me?”

    “No. You wouldn't, but it's still a big risk.” Virgil stared at him for a while before rolling his eyes and stepping between them. "Fine. Let's just get it over with then."

    “No.”

    Roman looked up to Emile in surprise. “Emile, please.”

    Emile shook his head, dropping his hands to his side. “I’m as surprised about this as you are, but I don’t want your oath. Two parties are required to make a prince's oath valid and I refuse to participate.”

    “Emile,” Roman frowned at Emile’s determined expression. “I want to do this for you.”

    “If you want this, then give the order and I’ll comply with your authority.” Emile stared carefully at him. “Otherwise, this conversation is over.”

    Roman blinked at him in confusion. He looked blankly at Virgil, before turning back to Emile. “You know I won’t force you, Emile.”

    Emile smirked at him. “That is exactly why I believe the oath is no longer necessary, Roman.”

    “But—”

    “We’re settled, Roman. Just keep your promises.”

    “Very well, Emile." Roman smiled back at him, resigned. "I will honor our agreements.”

    “Good. Now, get out of here. Dawn has nearly arrived, and you need to be out of town before then.” Emile smiled as Patton leaned into Roman’s shoulder and Roman wrapped an arm around his tired friend. He turned his gaze to Virgil with a determined look in his eyes. “Now, go find your friend, Virgil.”

    “We will.” Virgil smirked at him. “Thank you for sparing Roman from his own idiocy, Em.”

    “Be kind to your friend, Virgil.” Emile said sternly. His pursed lips hid a fond smile.

    Virgil rolled his eyes, turning back to Roman with a sarcastic smile. “I really thought it would take more than a night for you to turn him against me.”

    “What can I say, Virgil?” Roman smirked back at him. “I am a charming prince and I have my ways.”

    Virgil groaned and gently shoved Roman toward the door. “Let’s go before your ego gets too big to fit through the door frame.” He glanced back at Emile with an appreciative glance. “Thanks for everything, Em.”

    “Of course, Virgil.” Emile shook his head and rolled his eyes fondly as he watched Virgil shove his friends out the door.

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[my-happy-little-bean]

The Bookkeeper - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea

pairings: logicality, prinxiety  words: 3378 chapter warnings: mild swearing, referenced death (i.e. parents, grandparent) summary: amidst thunder and lightning: an explanation of the past.

[read on ao3]   [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

“I have decided that what you have just told me is impossible.” 

Logan’s grandfather laughed. He shifted in his seat on the bed, looking down at a blanket-bundled Logan: nine years old, but older in his head.

“Proof’s in the pudding, Little Einstein,” Roman replied before his grandfather could respond. 

“Actually, the proof is right in front of me. It is you. And also, it is not real, because you are not real.” 

This time, Roman laughed. Logan’s grandfather sighed, settling into an amused smile. 

“I mean, I don’t know what else to tell you, kid.” He tossed a small ball of navy magic back and forth between his palms. Logan watched with a suspicious, but intrigued, look. “You have always told me that I was like magic, so I’m not sure why you’re surprised.” 

“Because I thought it was a– a…”

“Figure of speech?” Roman filled in.

“Figure of speech! Yes.” Logan then looked at Roman, realizing who spoke. He narrowed his eyes at him and tried to swat at Roman. “I coulda figured that out myself!” 

Roman just laughed again, doing a little somersault in the air to dodge Logan’s hand. Logan’s grandfather patted his shoulder for Roman to sit on. 

“Look, kid, I had to tell you eventually,” his grandfather said, a bit more seriously this time. “You don’t know it yet, but I can feel all your powers manifesting early. Too early. Usually a young wizard comes into their powers between the age of twenty and thirty, but you...you are different. I am not sure why, but someone needs to teach you how to control it into something you can use.” 

Logan frowned. “Did dad or papa have magic?” 

His grandfather blinked. The room was silent for a little while before he hesitantly said, “I never got to find out.” 

Logan shrugged, trying to brush off a creeping sadness he didn’t quite understand. 

“So what does all this mean?” 

His grandfather’s smile grew a bit more. 

“It means that we have to start training. And Roman here–” Roman threw some red dust in the air, as if throwing confetti– “is going to help me teach you about your magic.” 

“What if I don’t want magic?” Logan huffed. His grandfather paused.

“You like books, don’t you?”

Logan nodded diligently. That seemed about right.

“Well magic manifests itself in the things that bring you joy; the things you know to be true about your life and the direction it follows. Perhaps that is how you have your powers now — your father loved you dearly, after all.” 

A twinkle of navy swirled around the rim of his grandfather’s irises. Logan watched in awe, as if he could see a whole universe unfolding in his eyes. 

“And so whether you want it or not, magic will always be a part of you,” he finally said, “for as long as you believe in the stories it will tell.”

—

Logan walked down the stairs holding a tray with a porcelain teapot, three tea cups, and cups of sugar and honey. He moved towards Patton, who was sitting in the moss-green armchair in the shop’s seating area next to the window. He felt like a ghost walking through his shop, which was now stripped completely of its secrets.

 ‘ How is this happening, how is this happening, how...’

“Er, I only had Earl Grey.” Logan set the tray down on the small, circular coffee table and sat across from Patton. He felt the red cushion shift beneath him as he anxiously squirmed, restless, watching as Patton poured himself a cup.

“That’s, uh, fine.” Patton stirred in some honey, distracted by Roman, who had settled on top of the tray and was slowly tipping towards him a cup half-full of sugar. Logan rolled his eyes. 

“It’s a copious amount of sugar,” he awkwardly filled in. “I keep telling him that it is unfit for frequent consumption.” 

“So you can...see that,” Patton said slowly, still gawking at Roman, who was drinking in sugar and starting to glow bright red. 

“Yes. I can see that.” 

“So I’m not in some weird dream.” 

“No, and I don’t know why Roman would say that. There are many more believable lies. Like drug consumption.”

Patton paled. Roman lifted his head from behind the rim of the cup and glared at Logan.

“Forgive the horrific Fray-kenstein for his monstrous attempts at apologizing for creating a  scene,” Roman finally spoke up. “Though in our defense, you did kinda just waltz in here after hours.” 

“The door was open! How was I supposed to know that you guys were doing some– some weird book ritual!” 

Logan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It was not a ritual, Patton.” 

“Then what was it?!” Patton looked at Logan with frantic, puppy eyes. “What was the– the trees, the leaves, the books, this– this floating thing–”

“Hey! I am not a thing! I’m Roman!” 

“I’m sorry,” Patton quickly corrected himself, “what the heck is Roman and what the heck is going on?!”

Logan looked over at Roman, who shrugged helplessly.  

“Have you...have you ever read Harry Potter? ” 

“Duh.” 

“Well it’s...it’s not like that. Well, it sort of is? Why did I say that, such a poor example…” 

“ Seriously, Specs?” 

“Look, I never had to explain this to anyone before, okay?!” 

A hush filled the shop. Patton was still looking at Logan, wide-eyed but now afraid. Even Roman was uncharacteristically quiet. 

Logan sighed. He snuck a glance out the window. Slow and steady: pitter, patter, pitter, patter. The world outside Fray and Far Fables spun threads of rain around the various buildings and the streetlamps lining the empty roads. The sound drowned out the sound of his racing heart. 

Logan faced Patton, now more earnest than ever. 

“I don’t know if I ever told you this, Patton, but after my parents passed, I lived here with my grandfather.” 

“He lived in the shop?” 

“As do I,” Logan replied promptly, pouring himself a cup. “I inherited this establishment after he too passed away.” He smiled to himself. “He was very fond of the shop. Said it harboured many stories beyond just books. I never thought to ask him what he meant.” 

Patton watched intently while Roman, Logan noticed, remained silent.

“Anyway, I lived with my grandfather, and my grandfather loved books. Or, more accurately, he loved stories. It’s where he drew his magic from– the first magic that was born into my family– which is why he opened this shop. He always told me that ‘magic manifested itself in the things that bring you joy’.” 

Patton gave him a small smile. “Okay, that’s pretty cute.” 

“I suppose so,” Logan hummed. “I am unsure where my parents– well, my father, not my papa– drew magic from, but they passed at around the same time their magic started appearing. Hence, my grandfather theorized that it was passed on to me at an abnormally young age. That fact does not matter as much, though. What matters is that due to many circumstances outside of my understanding, one thing remains constantly known — I have known of magic all my life.” 

To demonstrate, Logan grew a small ball of navy sparks in the centre of his palm. Patton’s eyes glowed. Logan caught sight of a wondrous reflection in Patton’s irises.

“Oh that’s nothing ,” Roman finally spoke up. “Logan has always been tame with his magic — let me show you what it’s really for.” 

Before Logan could protest, Roman flew off the tray and up into the air in rollercoaster-esque loops, a fiery trail of red magic burning his path into visibility. Patton’s jaw dropped as Roman proceeded to cast spells that lifted nearby books off the shelves one by one. They all danced in the air under Roman’s control as he conducted a hummed melody for the books to waltz to. 

Patton giggled as a book circled around his head, red dust flipping idly through its pages. Logan could faintly smell flowers from its pages before it closed. The book promptly returned back to Roman’s array of air-bound books, which danced their way back to the shelves. 

When the spectacle ended, Patton clapped and cheered; it was the most relaxed and reassured Patton had looked since walking into the store. Logan couldn’t help but become puzzled as to why that was. 

“I suppose that this is the perfect way for me to segue into my next subject,” Logan said, narrowing his eyes at a coy-looking Roman, who sat back in front of his teacup. “Roman and the book nooks.” 

“Book nooks,” Patton echoed. He looked down at Roman. “Is that what I had walked into? With– with the forest and stuff?” 

“Yessiree, cardigan-clad-clod.” Roman did some jazz hands, red sparks flying from the tips of his fingers. “That’s all me!” 

“Partially you,” Patton blurted out. Logan raised an eyebrow at the hesitant correction, and Patton faced him once more, as if looking for confirmation. 

“Well, if...if your grandfather drew magic from books and opened this shop, I assume you also draw magic from books too, right? Since you’re also running the shop?” 

An unknown pang of guilt and heartache scorched Logan’s chest for a brief moment. He masked it with a shrug. 

“I am unaware of where my magic truly comes from,” Logan quietly said. “No one is allowed to tell me, not even Roman; the origin of magic must be stumbled upon, not taught.” He cleared his throat. “But books...that is probably where it comes from, yes.” 

Patton frowned, but sipped his tea, motioning at Logan to continue his spiel. Logan nodded, adjusting his tie. 

“But yes, most of the book-magic is Roman. Roman has been around since I was younger, and perhaps been around before then.” 

“Yup! I have been the Fray’s fantastic familiar since dear ol’ Eric Fray himself.” Roman beamed proudly. “See, when a wizard is born, they attract familiar magic from the astral plane — the place where souls go before descending to other planes. It’s sort of an in-between stop before all the available afterlives.” 

“Wowza,” Patton murmured, though Logan could tell he was borderline confused. 

“That stuff doesn’t really matter though.” Roman waved his hand dismissively. “In a nutshell, since I was the familiar of Logan’s grandpa, I inherited parts of his magic.” 

“And consequently, Roman’s familiar magic hinged on aiding my grandfather in his storytelling via book nooks.” 

Roman beamed with pride. “Eric used to call me the bookkeeper.” 

Logan nodded, standing up and slowly walking past the shelves lining the walls. He was searching for one book in particular, where was it... 

“Book nooks, for lack of a better word, are some sort of portal,” Logan explained, still fishing through each book. “If you were to focus hard enough, Roman could simply transport us into any world a book depicts. Most of the time, however, Roman’s magic will just choose small ‘nooks’ inside the novels– memorable scenes that showcase important themes, significant locations, et cetera– and it will manifest itself into the real world.”

Eventually, he found what he was looking for, letting out a small ‘ah’ as he pulled it off its shelf. He returned back to Patton, book in his lap. 

“Take this book, for example. Jule Verene’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea.” Logan smiled warmly at its cover. “It was the first book nooks Roman and my grandfather ever opened for me after I discovered my powers. Roman simply worked his magic under my grandfather’s guidance, and together they re-created the interior of the Nautilus out of my bed. The rest of my room became submerged in water, and suddenly, I was in the ocean.”

“That sounds incredible,” Patton awed. 

“Incredible and extravagant,” Logan muttered, though snuck a smile at Roman. “Those two had that in common.” 

“So when can I go to a book nook?” Patton suddenly asked. “Like, a proper one! I already have a thousand books in mind– can you do things inside the book nooks? Like paint?” 

Logan’s smile fell, which Roman seemingly caught notice of. 

“You can’t go inside a book nook,” Roman said pointedly. “Logan is pretty anti-book nook nowadays.” 

“But you just–” 

“What happened here tonight was an accident,” Logan curtly said. “And I am not ‘anti-book nook’, I just…”

He looked down at Jule Verne’s book in his lap, now almost longingly. His lips remained pressed in a tight frown as he closed his eyes. 

“Roman can open the book nooks if he wants, but I simply do not prefer them. And he–” Logan glared at Roman– “respects that preference.” 

Roman just shrugged and returned to his cup of sugar.

“Besides, there...well, there is not much reason for them to be open without my grandfather,” Logan finally managed to say. “He got more use out of them than I do. And I...I have other things to focus on.” 

“Yeah honestly, I’m surprised it was able to even happen tonight,” Roman added. “Logan’s magic is as dull as his philosophy books.”

Patton blinked. “Wait, it is? Why?” 

“He doesn’t use it anymore, I guess?” Roman then looked at Logan with a softer, more pitiful look. “Nowadays, there isn’t much of a reason for it to manifest in the first place.” 

Logan remained quiet, almost guilty but with little understanding as to why. 

“Well then,” Patton said, clearing the air with an unsteady laugh. “That was a lot to take in.” 

“Again, I apologize, Patton, for the mess.” Logan pushed up his glasses, setting his cup down. Back to business. “If we could just forget that this happened, I would–” 

“Forget this happened? How– I can’t forget this happened!” 

“Yeah, a bit unfair of you to ask,” Roman tagged on. 

“As I said earlier, this is the first time someone’s ever found out about this.” Logan felt his jaw tighten. He faced his attention towards Patton once more. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Patton. Magic is real. Books can be real– more than they already are. This obviously has to be a secret–” 

“Or does it?” 

Logan’s mouth dropped. Roman bit back a smirk. 

“Well this just got interesting .” 

“What are you insinuating, Patton?” Logan asked slowly, trying to ignore Roman’s smugness.

“I–” Patton sat up straighter– “have an– an ultimatum for you!” 

“Oh, you cannot be serious . ” 

“In exchange for my secrecy,” Patton declared, “you will let me explore these... book nooks at least– at least once a day!” 

“Deal!” Roman cheered, starry-eyed and mouth agape.

“Absolutely not ,” Logan dully said at the same time. He narrowed his eyes at Roman, then at Patton. “If this is your attempt at threatening me, I can assure you, there are other ways to maintain secrecy.” 

“Logan!” Roman scolded. 

“Okay! Bad approach, bad approach,” Patton laughed nervously, hands in the air. “I’m not trying to threaten you Logan, it’s just…” 

Patton glanced at Roman, and then at the book in Logan’s hand. 

“Isn’t just a part of you scared of your magic fading for good?” 

For a brief moment, Logan was taken back by Patton’s question. 

“I…” He shook his head. “The book nooks do not maintain my magic, Patton.” 

“But the lack thereof has certainly nulled it!” Patton pointed out. “As you said–” He adopted a very serious tone, as if reciting from a book– “you can’t understand the meaning of things without understanding the implied lack thereof.” 

Roman looked at Logan with a shit-eating grin. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, Patton,” Logan gritted out, frustrated that it did make sense, a strange amount of it. 

“Look, you don’t even have to be here for the book nook if you really don’t want to.” Patton’s eyes widened. An idea seemingly struck his head. “In fact, you don’t even have to be in the shop. ”

Logan’s heart dropped. 

“Patton…” he began warningly. 

“No, no, hear me out!” More knowingly– and perhaps, more teasingly– he sing-songed, “This could help with your speech!”

Roman’s smile, seemingly for the first time tonight, faltered. Logan clenched his jaw shut, nodding for Patton to continue. 

“You’re looking for the purpose of art in a purposeless life, right? But here’s the thing — you haven’t been experiencing its existence in life to begin with!” 

“This is already making my brain hurt,” Roman groaned. Logan rolled his eyes as Patton went on.

“So, I am going to change my ultimatum a bit to leave some room for field research .” 

Logan, against his will, became intrigued. (He was always intrigued with Patton, damn it all.)

“In typical fantasy style, I am going to send you on one arts-related quest for each day I want to explore a book nook,” Patton explained. “So you’ll go outside of the shop and explore the artistic adventure I send you on, while Roman and I go and explore a book nook! Mess-free, I promise! That way, we both get something we need!” 

“I don’t need to go outside, Patton,” Logan grumbled, fully aware of how childish he sounded. “I have books.” 

“Lame.” Roman stuck out his tongue at Logan. 

“And also untrue,” Patton said, annoyingly fatherly. “Where have books got you so far?” 

Roman’s jaw dropped, flying around Logan’s head and screaming a chorus of “ohh!”s and “aww shit!”s, tossing in a “what a burn!” into the kindled flames that was Logan. 

“You need experience, Logan,” Patton said with a small smile. “If you think life and art is so meaningless, then go and prove that yourself! Where do you think all these philosophers get their start, anyway?”

For some strange reason, Logan thought of Virgil Aries’ book.

“You can’t study life without living it,” Patton filled in softly. “In the same way, you can’t study art without experiencing it. If you want to know what it means in an...an un-alive life, you need to see it alive first.” 

Logan hated to admit it, but Patton’s words drew him closer to an answer than anything he had written in the past week. Even his fingers twitched with navy magic, as if they were some sort of metal detector that found its treasure buried deep, deep within the sandy shores of Logan’s chest, where he knew his magic sat, unused. 

He glanced at Roman, who had grown quiet. Still, he stared at Logan with a certain amount of knowing. It was as if Roman was standing at the edge of the ocean beside him, not quite sure if he should take a step in. Logan then glanced over at his stray papers on his counter.

At that moment, Logan knew what he wanted. He wanted to work; he wanted to finish his speech; he wanted his answer . 

But there was something in Roman’s knowing eyes and in his heart that knew he wanted more. 

“Fine. I concede to these agreements.” 

Patton perked up with a bright smile. Even Roman looked surprised.

“Super! I already know the perfect first adventure — I’ll email you the details tonight!” He paused. “What’s your email?” 

Logan forced a chuckle. “You can have my phone number instead. Perhaps it’d be easier.” 

“Smooth,” Roman muttered, masking it under a cough. Logan glared daggers at him, which only grew his smile.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow then!” Patton stood up, putting on his hat with a grin. He reached over to enthusiastically shake Logan’s stiff hand. "I bet this'll help you finish your speech in no time!"

"Of course," Logan said, looking over to Roman and awaiting his mutual disbelief. However, Roman remained still and quiet, deep in thought.

Patton continued shaking Logan's hand. “Adventure is out there, my friend! And we’re both going to find it!” 

“Sure,” Logan deadpanned, already regretting his decision.

“Bon voyage, gentlemen!” Patton said brightly as he made his way towards the door. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Patton,” Logan called out, one last feeble attempt at salvaging the situation. 

Patton stopped at the door and turned back to face Logan. 

“ ‘If there were no thunder, men would have little fear of lightning’. ”

“...That barely makes sense here, Patton.” 

Patton winked. “Which means it barely does!” 

And with that, Patton left the shop, and Logan’s adventure began.

— 

next chapter > 

[starlocked01]

Rivals to Soulmates Speedrun

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Logan is confident in his ability to compete academically. He's not prepared for the consequences of ignoring his team. Content Warning: Brief swearing, Kissing, one mild nsfw mention

Day 24 Loceit- When you first meet your soulmate you see a vision of the future. Modified so that the vision happens at their first touch.

"Alright I need everyone to focus. I don't know how we managed to get this far but we did and we are not going home empty handed," Logan looked each of his teammates in the eyes. He really did not know what miracle had gotten them all the way to the championship- no wait, yes he did. It was him. The unfortunate truth of attending a small private school meant that getting on the Academic Challenge team was not so much a matter of skill or knowledge, rather it was asking to be on the team.

Logan was used to pulling more than his fair share of the burden anyway. And at least Roman knew theater stuff and Patton- well, Patton was there for moral support.

"Just remember, all answers go through me," Logan stood straight and smiled confidently.

"Whatever you say, Spock," Roman sighed, more interested in his nails than the team captain's speech, "let's get this nerd royale over with."

"Remember to have fun, kiddos," Patton grinned and clapped his teammates on their backs as they made their entrance on stage.

Logan's first thought was to size up the competition. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest but one must know their enemy.

First was a boy who looked like he'd been dragged out of the alleyway and forced on the team. If his monochromatic outfit and terrible posture matched his enthusiasm he wouldn't pose any immediate threat to Logan.

The second boy looked, in a word, deranged. His large grin and wide eyes were out of place among the serious faces of the other competitors. Logan did have to note that the frilly black and green skirt complimented him well. The boy caught Logan’s eye and winked at him. Eugh.

The third, the team captain, was on a different level entirely from his team.  Logan immediately felt utter loathing for that casual smirk. Everything about him just screamed "pretentious asshole who thinks he's smarter than everyone in the room". Logan scoffed at his socially deviant attire, which included a bowler hat and black capelet. Logan adjusted his tie. How ridiculous looking. This boy thought he was a threat to Logan. That misconception would be quickly rectified.

"Welcome to the Academic Challenge District Championship! I'm your host tonight, Thomas Sanders," the man grinned widely at the seven people in the audience, "today's game will be three rounds. Team captains, if you would step forward and shake hands."

Logan stepped forward and met the other captain in the middle of the stage. He offered a yellow-gloved hand to Logan.

"Gloves?"

"You can never be too careful. May the best team win."

Logan grabbed his hand and shook firmly, "we will."

"We'll see," the other captain smirked and turned back to his team with a flourish of his cape.

Logan smirked and pivoted to walk back to Patton and Roman who were already set up at the podium. Both boys looked absolutely bored out of their minds already but Patton at least tried to give Logan a supportive smile.

Logan gave the host a self-confident smirk, "it's game time."

They quickly ran a buzzer check for both teams and started the categories round. The other team seemed pretty evenly matched with Logan and not many points were turned over while toss-ups became a matter of who was faster to the buzzer. By the end of the round Logan had a slight lead and felt very confident.

"Alright! Now it's time for the alphabet round! Today's letter is 'N' and all the answers will start with 'n'. Teams here are your sheets, you have 4 minutes starting… now!" Thomas declared and both teams quickly flipped the list of questions.

"'Musical about the effects of mental illness on a family'," Logan read the first question aloud, "Roman, what's the answer?"

Roman shrugged, "I dunno."

"What do you mean, 'I dunno'?" Logan hissed, "this is your area of expertise!"

"Just because I'm an actor doesn't mean I've seen every show," Roman scoffed, reading down the list of questions to himself, "well I don't know any of this. Try Hamilton."

"It has to start with 'N'!" Logan groaned.

"What about 'Next to Normal'?" Patton didn't look up from his paper where he was drawing.

"Okay fine. What are you doing?"

Patton showed him the doodle, "it's a nectarine for number 17."

Logan looked dumbfounded and scrambled for the last two minutes to answer as many as possible. He glanced over at the other team to find them all talking calmly while the green skirt boy scribbled down the answers.

The buzzer sounded and both teams handed their sheets to Thomas who quickly graded the answers.

"And with that round both teams are tied! It all comes down to the lightning round. To your buzzers everyone!"

Logan only started to mildly panic when the other team got the first three answers. He knew them but couldn't buzz in fast enough.

"Help me out here, guys," he hissed at the others.

Roman rolled his eyes and buzzed in halfway through the next question, "the answer is American Gothic."

"How could you possibly know that?" Logan was furious but turned to give their official answer, "uh Grant Wood."

"No, sorry, Team B?"

The boy in the cape leaned in to the others before responding, "American Gothic."

"Correct!" Thomas replied cheerfully.

"Told you, you're on your own, wonder nerd," Roman sighed and went back to not paying attention.

Logan did his best to keep up but was falling miserably behind.

"Okay last question, where did Descartes claim the human soul resided in the body?" Thomas waited for the buzzer.

"Shit!" Logan dropped his head in shame,then heard the buzzer ring and looked up to see Patton had rang in.

"The pineal gland!" Patton blurted out cheerfully. Logan’s head hit the podium. That was the dumbest-

"Correct! And with that the final score is Team A 350 to Team B 470! Congratulations to Dark Knell High!" Thomas led the scattered applause for the team.

Logan stood, furious, and walked back to the center of the stage where the other captain stood, looking smug as hell and holding the trophy. Logan stuck out his hand for the congratulatory handshake, scowling. The boy made a show of removing his glove before taking Logan’s hand.

Logan’s back against a brick wall with that smug face inches from his. The expression softens and a finger traces his cheek before he leans in to kiss Logan. A cacophony of conflicting emotions screams through his head and settles on "wait, am I gay?" just before he kisses back, anger and humiliation temporarily forgotten in the arms of-

"Janus, my name is Janus. Looks like I'll be seeing you behind the school," Janus winked at a stunned Logan. Logan quickly straightened up and returned to his team.

"What was that about, Specs? You two were standing there for like a minute," Roman looked amused.

"I-" Logan couldn't make himself speak.

"I'm sorry we lost, Lo," Patton smiled apologetically, "they worked really well together as a team. It was going to be hard to beat them."

"No- Patton you did marvelously. I'm sorry for doubting you. And Roman, I'm sorry for not trusting you and not working together as a team. I failed you both," Logan looked down to his feet, ashamed.

"Aw, it's okay, Lo! Maybe we can practice together more before the next tournament and work together next time?" Patton gave him a reassuring smile.

"Assuming I'm even still on the team. Honestly, this sucked. I'm out of here," Roman turned to leave.

"Roman…" Patton chided

"Ugh, fine, yes we'll do better next time," he waved the others off as he left the stage to talk with their advisor.

"He'll come around," Patton grinned, "but seriously were you okay up there?"

"Patton, I think I need to go meet my soulmate. Don't let Dr. Picani leave without me," Logan was distracted by Janus slipping out a back door.

"What?? Okay I'll stall," Patton looked incredibly happy for his friend.

Logan followed Janus out the back door and soon found himself reliving the vision he'd had.

"That was a close game. I wasn't certain we were going to win until your team fell apart," Janus smiled at him, hand still in Logan's hair.

"Well, I didn't expect- you," Logan's mind was whirling.

Janus slipped him a scrap of paper and kissed his cheek before turning back to the door, "call me."

Logan looked at the phone number, "I'm Logan. And I'm sorry you're stuck with me for a soulmate."

"I'm sure we'll make it work. I was quite impressed with your performance today. Until next time, Logan," with that Janus slipped back inside and Logan realized he needed to not miss the bus back home. He sprinted around the school and found Dr. Picani patiently dealing with Patton's antics. He climbed on the bus while their advisor was distracted and collapsed in his seat.

"So where'd you disappear to, L?" Roman asked without looking up from his phone.

"Janus is my soulmate. I saw the vision when we shook hands the second time," Logan confessed.

"Oh my god! Good for you, Lo! Maybe getting laid will make you chill out," Roman smirked, texting his own soulmate.

"Wow, rude. I expected nothing less from you," Logan smirked, fishing his phone out of his backpack and programming the number in his phone before calling Janus.

"Love you, Specs," Roman grinned as Patton and Dr. Picani finally boarded the bus.

"Nice job today team! We didn't win but you gave it your best, which is what counts! Did you all have a good time?" Dr. Picani gave them all a broad grin, genuinely proud despite the loss.

"Logan sure had a good time," Roman snickered.

"I had fun!" Patton beamed.

Logan held the still ringing phone away from his ear, "today was adequate. Thank you, Dr. Picani."

"Great, let's get home," Dr. Picani turned to the bus driver and they started driving back. Logan grinned as Janus finally picked up the phone.

"Hello, Logan."

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020