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daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

05 - From the Bottom up (Part 1)

AO3 | Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Romantic Moxiety; Romantic Roceit

Characters: Violet (Virgil) Addams; Logan Sanders; Penelope (Patton) Foster; Roman Prince; Janus Herzberg; Remus Prince (mentioned); multiple OCs

Warnings: small reference to transphobia

Words: 1.9k

The drama club goes on a weekend trip. Everyone becomes a bit closer.

- - -

Violet stepped onto the bus, adjusting the strap of her backpack—even though she wasn’t hauling her overnight bag with her anymore, she barely felt any lighter. Roman hadn’t met her in front of the bus like he promised, and the time she spent waiting came to bite her in the ass now that she was among the last to get on and not a single row of seats was empty.

Fuck.

Now she needed someone to sit next to. Someone she barely knew, whose name she had probably already forgotten and who would ignore her or (even worse) talk to her the whole ride. Great.

She smiled at Logan—sat near the front, his wheelchair folded beside him—and he gave her a nod and a smile in return before focusing on his book again. Then Violet looked up, scanning the seats ahead and immediately found Roman, squished in the three seats of the back row with five other people, his boisterous laughter audible through the entire bus as he found himself on the losing end of a tickle fight. Violet sighed.

This would be a long trip.

Her eyes darted from seat to seat—there had to be somewhere she could sit. She cursed herself for only ever talking to Logan or Roman, for her face blindness, for always being the new girl who came in after everyone else and didn’t have a chance to make friends. The only people she could imagine sitting next to were already preoccupied, with the exception of Penny, maybe, but Penny was…

...waving at her. Violet jumped at the realisation, glancing behind her—no, Penny wasn’t looking at anyone else (as was backed by her calling Violet’s name before patting the free seat next to her; God, how embarrassing).

Hesitantly, Violet sat down. Okay, Vi, be cool. “Hey.”

“You made it!” Penny beamed at her, shining like the sun (brighter than the sun, even; it was annoyingly overcast) and her broad grin complemented her make-up of the day: blue, pink and white freckles scattered over her cheeks along with her real ones and eyeshadow to match. Being cool was going to be a challenge.

Violet hummed. “Your make-up looks cute,” she said casually. Roman’s voice (“Stay calm; make conversation; act natural”) echoed in her thoughts and she shoved it to the back of her mind.

“Thank you!” Penny said, an excited sparkle in her blue-rimmed eyes. “Today’s the trans day of visibility; I thought I’d make myself a little more, well, visible in turn.”

“Oh!” Violet said, then “oh,” again when the words reached her brain. “You’re…”

Penny’s smile changed—it was strained, the desperate look in her eyes one Violet knew all too well: Waiting for a reaction; praying they won’t say anything wrong; please-God-let-it-be-okay. “Yep! That’s, uh… that’s okay, right?” And there was something else in her face; past the fear of transphobia, a tiny heartbreak was waiting to happen—though Violet couldn’t figure out why.

“Yeah!” Violet said quickly. “Yeah, of course it’s okay—I’m… I’m non-binary, actually. A demigirl.” She gave Penny a reassuring smile despite the anxiety closing around her heart (aside from her online friends, only two other people knew about the gender thing) and relief began to wash Penny’s worry away.

Then relief made way for shock—Penny slapped her hands over her mouth. “Goodness gracious, have I been using the wrong pronouns all this time?”

“Oh, no—I use she and they; it, uh, depends on the day, kinda.”

“Oh.” Penny visibly relaxed.

The bus started moving and they both startled, Penny grabbing onto Violet’s arm to stop herself from slamming back into the seat, which only made Violet tense more. As Penny sat down properly (though her legs were still crossed, her pink skirt draped over her knees), she didn’t quite let go, their arms brushing together on the armrest between them. Cool, calm, natural, Violet repeated to herself, just don’t be weird.

“And should I, um—” Penny started, then paused, looking away as she thought. “Should I use ‘girl words’ for you?” She made air quotes with her free hand. “Like, if you and I were—” Softly, she shook her head. “I know it’s silly, but if we were dating—”

Violet forced back a strangled noise. There went cool and calm.

“—would you be my girlfriend or my… joyfriend or partner or datefriend or…?”

“Girlfriend is fine. Would be fine, I mean.” Heat rose to Violet’s face—she laughed awkwardly, brushing her hair behind her ear. And now natural was out the window as well; damn, she was fucking this up quickly. Did that question mean Penny wanted Violet to be her girlfriend? No, definitely not; there was no way someone like Penny could like someone like her. Violet looked away.

“This weekend is gonna be fun!” Penny broke the silence without a hint of awkwardness. “Rehearsals are always really cool; acting just feels different there and—oh, wait, you’re on stage crew.” She tilted her head to the side. “That’s still fun, though, right?”

Violet thought back to Logan’s briefing for the weekend ahead—she had watched three actors (Jo, maybe, then Connor and… fuck, names really weren’t her strong suit) load a metal case the size of a small fridge into the bus while Logan surveyed nervously; they all had quite the weekend ahead of them. “Sure.”

Penny grinned. “And, hey—even if we’re not in the same room, we’ll get to hang out lots! It’ll be great.”

Idly playing with the earbuds hanging from her collar, Violet hummed. “I hope so.”

“I’m sure,” Penny said firmly. Her gaze wandered to Violet’s hand. “What kind of music do you like? No, wait, don’t tell me—My Chemical Romance?”

“How could you guess?” Violet asked dryly, a smile tugging at her lips.

Penny giggled. “C’mon, let’s hear something.” She tapped her nail against Violet’s earbud. “I had an emo phase too; I wanna see if I recognize anything.”

Violet laughed disbelievingly. “You had an emo phase?” She opened her phone, scrolling through her playlists. Too angsty, too sad, too old—there.

“Yep!” Penny chirped. “Black hoodies, messy eyeliner and way too light foundation—I looked like a zombie for a year.” She wrinkled her nose. “But that was before my transition—I’m glad my moms didn’t want to keep those pictures around.”

Violet laughed. Handing Penny an earbud, she shuffled the playlist. “Here—don’t judge me too hard.”

“Don’t worry.” Penny put in the earbud, pausing for a moment—then her eyes lit up with recognition. She smiled and closed them, resting her head on Violet’s shoulder.

It took Violet a second to recover from her initial heart attack—but when she did, she almost relaxed into the touch. The familiar song was comforting, and watching Penny’s lips move in sync with the lyrics made Violet melt like ice cream in the sun. She laid her head on Penny’s (her hair smelled faintly of coconut and vanilla and was wonderfully soft against her cheek) and let the music surround her.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip would be alright after all.

- - -

Roman leaned against the headboard, shifting to get comfortable on the bed frame—the mattress was, along with every other mattress aside from Logan’s, on the floor in the centre of the room where the others were sitting. Pulling up his shoulders, Roman stared at his phone screen.

“Come on,” Connor said. Roman ignored him. “We’re finally enough people to play and we need a narrator, Roman, please?”

“Not in the mood.”

“Who’re you texting?” Tyler looked up from the cards he was shuffling. “Can’t you stop talking to your girlfriend for ten minutes?”

Roman made a dismissive noise, checking his notifications.

Janus: Remus said you’re not home - I was hoping to see you tonight, where are you?

“C’mon, leave him alone,” Percy said, elbowing Tyler in the side. “We’ll play Spyfall instead.”

“I’m only playing if Logan isn’t,” Connor joked. “He’s too good; it’s not fair.”

Logan laughed. “Just because you can’t help immersing yourself in your role doesn’t mean it’s unfair if I guess the location instantly.”

Roman tuned out the rest of their bickering, forcing back a smile at his screen—Janus wanted to see him.

You: I'm at this trip for drama 🙄

You: It's fine but I'd rather hang out with you

Janus: I'll come get you, get ready

You: Lol at least let me change first!

Janus: Oh, in your pyjamas already? The cute Disney ones?

You: Ajsjfkfgks

You: Don't make fun of meeee

Roman could almost hear Janus's light chuckle. He blushed, pulling his knees to his chest.

Janus: I'm not! I'm being honest, they're very cute

Janus: Like you

You: Ajsjdkfgkhjdjskgfjs

Janus: Hahaha

You: 😠

Janus: Really though, you're...

Janus: Very handsome

Janus: (Don't tell Remus I said so, but you're cuter than him)

You: We have the same face though?

You: Also I thought you two are dating or did I get something wrong

Janus: Oh, no - Remus is a good friend, but not my type

Roman bit his lip.

You: What is your type?

Janus took a while to answer—in the meantime Roman scrolled up, reading old messages (Janus was very charming; Roman had spent longer than he cared to admit to anyone texting and even more time thinking about him).

Janus: Pretty boys, bold and artistic. Bonus points for a defined aesthetic (the exact one doesn’t matter, but I’m fond of light palettes with gold)

Janus: Why, what’s yours?

Roman glanced at his red-and-gold jacket on the other side of the bed; thought back to the Instagram posts Janus had gone through and liked and the art and poetry Roman had (very hesitantly) shared. He thought about Janus, tall and refined and smooth as silk, and about Violet, his fake girlfriend.

You: Well my girlfriend’s an emo so edgy types apparently ajsdhfghs

Janus went offline—Roman could have kicked himself; of course he shouldn’t have said that. By Cupid’s misguided arrows, why was he always the one to get into such horrible situations?

Janus: How did you two meet?

You: We have math together lol

How romantic. He wasn’t even trying to sell it, huh?

No. The thought of Janus believing he was straight—no matter how important it was (Janus might tell Remus, after all, and Remus could take the opportunity to snitch on him)—made Roman feel sick.

Janus: I see

Janus: It’s getting late, I should be going - good night, Roman 🤍

The emoji made Roman’s heart flutter—how silly, he berated himself.

You: Goodnight 💞

He shoved his phone in his pocket, stretching before heading for the door—he hadn’t noticed it getting dark out or the others turning off the light, and had to step carefully to avoid tripping over a backpack.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked from the mattress nest on the floor, his voice slurred with drowsiness.

“Getting some water.”

“Hm. Cool.”

“Night,” Roman said softly, then slipped out of the room.

- - -

The rooftop balcony was quiet, just as it always was when Roman came up there—he had discovered it on his first trip here, overgrown, deserted and starlit, and had returned on every trip since. He took a deep breath of the night air, his mind clearing—everything was just like always, down to the chipped paint on the metal table and the cracks in the floor. As he looked around, Roman noticed one difference, though: He wasn’t alone.

Violet was sitting on the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest and staring up at the sky. When the door fell shut behind Roman, she jumped, hastily wiping her sleeve over her face—then she noticed him and froze.

“Roman?”

#sanders sides #moxiety #roceit #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #romantic moxiety #romantic roceit #platonic prinxiety #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes

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daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

06 - From the Bottom up (2/2)

AO3 | Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Romantic Moxiety

Characters: Roman Prince; Violet (Virgil) Addams; Penelope (Patton) Foster

Warnings: insecurity; crying; angst; food

Words: 3k

The drama club goes on a weekend trip. Everyone becomes a bit closer.

- - -

The stars were blurred by the tears in Violet’s eyes, pale spots of white on a black sky—she wasn’t sure when or why she started crying, but it was too late to stop now.

At least she was alone. She didn’t want to think about breaking down in front of the girls she shared a room with; her mind was going down enough spirals right now; but she was extraordinarily lucky to have found this spot, and to have found it deserted.

Penny had a room to herself—Violet had mentioned all of them sharing as they got off the bus and immediately regretted it as Penny’s smile froze up, her correction quick and tense in a way that made Violet wish she hadn’t said anything. Even though she knew perfectly well that Penny couldn’t share a room without outing herself, no matter how much she wanted to, Violet couldn’t help but be jealous of her.

Penny was trans. Did that change anything? Not really. She was just as sweet, just as beautiful and just as far out of Violet’s league as before Violet knew and she was just as hopelessly smitten. Blinking tears out of her eyes, Violet sighed. She really was a lost cause.

The door fell shut and Violet was pulled back to reality with a start—she wiped away the tears running down her face despite knowing it was no use, glancing at the source of the noise. Violet froze.

“Roman?”

Fuck, how long had he been here? She forced a smile on her face, praying he hadn’t caught her crying, but judging by the look on his face (like a scared puppy, shyer than she had ever seen him) he had seen enough. “What’s up?” Violet asked, cursing the tremor in her voice.

Roman opened his mouth and closed it again. He hesitated. “I wanted to get some fresh air,” he said lightly. “Mind if I join you?”

Violet gestured towards the tiled floor beside her. “Be my guest.”

Roman sat down, crossing his legs beneath him, close enough that Violet could bump her knee into his if she wanted to. Averting her eyes, Violet preoccupied herself with remembering how to breathe past the lump in her throat. Roman’s concerned gaze clung to her.

Violet ignored him.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

Violet took a deep, shaky breath and shortly answered, “Nothing.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roman frown. “You’re crying.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

Roman fell silent, looking up at the sky. Unsure, Violet glanced over. He sighed.

Violet stared at the stars again.

“You know—at first, I thought you asked me out as a joke.”

Roman turned his head, making a confused noise at the back of his throat.

“You know, that stupid thing boys do to the ugly girl in middle school? Walk up, ask her out, and then run away laughing. Sort of like, imagine someone wanting to date her.” Violet laughed bitterly, a pathetic little huff to hide the weight in her stomach. Tears welled up again; she ignored them.

Roman was frowning now, his brow furrowed. He mouthed something Violet couldn’t identify.

“And you’re, like—” The tears had reached her voice now. Violet gestured vaguely, forcing the words past the knot in her throat. “—attractive, I guess, and extroverted and popular and—” She stopped speaking before her voice could give out.

“People do that?” Roman sounded outraged at the very thought.

Violet laughed wetly. “Believe me, they do.”

“And—nevermind your impression of me being Hans of the Sordid Isles, apparently—since when are you ugly?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you blind?”

“Are you?”

Violet made a choked noise.

“I mean, seriously—look, the only reason I’m not real-dating you is that we’re both gay as hell—that, and I don’t want to third-wheel to Gerard Way.”

Violet snorted.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is… you’re really pretty, Vi. I mean it.”

Roman gave her a soft smile and Violet let the warmth of his compliment drown out the tiny, doubtful voice at the back of her mind. “Thanks, Princey. You’re pretty too.”

Grinning, Roman struck a pose, and Violet stifled a giggle. The lightheartedness faded too quickly though, levity slipping from Violet’s grasp like a dream she tried too hard to remember. Roman’s shoulders relaxed—he looked so small like this, soft and gentle in a way Violet wouldn’t have expected from him, like he had taken off the mask he usually hid this Roman behind. “... That’s not all, right?” he asked.

Violet sighed. Might as well tell him. “It’s stupid, I guess, but I’m worried Penny won’t… like me? Like, romantically, like-like me.”

Roman leaned back on his hands, humming as he gazed up at the sky. “You’re right, that is stupid.”

Scoffing, Violet punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow, what was that for?” Roman rubbed his arm. “It’s stupid because you absolutely have a chance. This may come as a surprise to you—” He lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “—but I have an excellent gaydar.”

This time, her laugh felt unmistakably genuine—Violet doubled over, her forehead on the knee she was still hugging to her chest, finally letting go of the boulder of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

“And she’s definitely into you! Maybe, at least.”

“Not reassuring.”

“Well, the least you can do is find out. You could ask her out—”

“Never in a million years.”

“—or wait for her to make a move. The thing is, I’m on Tumblr—”

Violet's eyes widened with dread. “Oh God.”

“—and I know your kind—”

“My kind,” she repeated dryly.

“—can be a little oblivious. So you have to make a grand gesture, like—”

“Okay, Romeo,” Violet laughed, “I think I’m good on dating advice.”

Roman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The silence they fell into was comfortable, at least more so than the last few—the night was much closer here, the stars brighter than they ever could be in the city and the world around them less quiet. Leaves swayed in a soft breeze; crickets chirped in the bushes; in the backyard, water trickled through a stream—but Violet was too far in her mind to do more than distantly notice her surroundings. Playing with the strings of her hoodie, she turned words over on her tongue.

Violet took a deep breath, ignoring her pounding heart. “Hey, uh, something else I wanted to ask you about…”

“Hm?” Roman glanced over at her.

“Are you, like, okay? At home, I mean. When I came over, you were acting… weird and kinda quiet and—I don’t know.” Violet grimaced. “Sorry, forget about it.”

Roman shifted—Violet wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t seen the mask drop earlier, but its return hit her like running into a glass door. Smiling almost patronizingly, he furrowed his brow. “Of course I’m okay. It’s very sweet—dare I say, adorable—of you to worry; concern is a quality I value in a fake girlfriend, after all—” As he spoke, his gaze flitted back and forth, not quite able to settle on a target. His voice barely shook—he raised it to hide the tremor. “—but I’m fine, I—” The sentence ended in a choked gasp; quickly, he clasped his hand over his mouth.

Violet startled. “Princey?” she said, hesitantly laying a hand on his arm, and Roman broke.

Roman lost tension so quickly he almost wilted under her touch, pulling his knees to his chest, and suddenly, Violet was absolutely helpless. “I—hey, Roman, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have—” She wrapped an arm around his trembling shoulders—immediately, he slumped against her. “Okay. Okay, I got you.” Violet pulled off her hoodie, draping it around his shoulders. (It counted as a blanket, right? And blankets were helpful? Fuck, she really was hopeless.) Soothingly, she rubbed his arm, hoping he couldn’t hear her racing heart.

“I’m just so sick of it all,” Roman said, his voice brittle and so soft Violet had to strain to catch his words. “I shouldn’t complain, I just—” He took a deep breath that Violet suspected was meant to mask a sob. “It’s all so hard; I’m never good enough and I’m getting worse, and I have to hide everything because Mom and Dad want me to be better than Remus and—” Roman interrupted himself with a scoff, his shoulders tensing again. “That sounds really mean, huh? Maybe you were right about me the first time.”

“What? No.” Violet frowned at him. “I—” She sighed. “I’m really not good at this, so if something comes out wrong, please don’t take it personally—uh, no offense, but your parents aren’t really… great.”

Roman sniffled weakly. “None taken.”

“And I get why you don't want to be treated like your brother.” Violet had to suppress a shudder as she thought back to the dinner. “You’re both in a kinda shitty place, and it’s not fair to make you act perfect so it doesn’t get worse. I—you’re allowed to feel bad, even if you don’t have the worst life ever.”

Roman hummed against her shoulder.

“And, uh, if it gets really bad—you can stay with me for a little while, okay?”

“Oh.” Roman sat up, his voice almost calm again. “I—thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Violet gave him a smile. “Or, well, do if you need to.”

Roman returned the smile, his eyes red and wet with tears. “I wish I could make it up to you.”

Violet snorted. “You can just keep giving me dating advice.” Softly, she shook her head. “But really, you don’t have to. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Roman ran the back of his hand over his eyes. “I guess so.” He sighed. “I should probably get back; the others will think I got lost somewhere.”

“Mhm,” Violet said. Hopefully everyone was already asleep, then she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

“Here.” Roman handed Violet her hoodie and she slipped it on. He paused. “Can you tell I was crying?”

Violet hesitated. “Kinda.”

“Shit.” Again, Roman rubbed under his eye. “Okay, I’ll live.”

Violet nodded. “Good luck—good night, Princey.” She pulled herself up by the metal railing, Roman quickly following, then headed for the door.

“Vi—wait, one more thing.” She paused. “I have this… family reunion thing coming up—it’s two weeks after the play, and my mom asked if you’ll be coming, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“Relax, I’ll go.”

Relieved, Roman exhaled. “Really?”

“Yes really; how bad can it be?” Roman grimaced and Violet decided not to think about it too much. “Right now I have to sleep, though, or Logan’s gonna kill me tomorrow—good night for real.”

Roman bowed deeply. “Good night, milady—I will see you in the morning.”

Violet chuckled, then left the balcony. Tomorrow would be quite the day; she needed to be at least a little awake for it.

- - -

Violet stumbled into the kitchen at a way too early time after way too little sleep—none of their roommates had been awake as they slipped into the room after saying goodnight to Roman, and they had been the first one awake this morning, giving them enough time to sift through the fog of sleepiness enough to find they had lost their gender overnight. Maybe it was still on the roof, they thought, nearly making themself laugh. Shaking their head, they ran the sleeve of their hoodie over their eyes—before they could do anything else, they needed caffeine.

So here they were, only half awake as they entered the kitchen, giving the cozy room a blank look as they scanned the counters for a coffee machine.

“Morning, V!” a cheerful voice said, startling Violet into a fully awake state.

“Oh—morning.” Penny was beaming at them, bright as ever—how hadn’t they noticed her? They were worse off than they thought. “Sorry, didn’t see you—I just wanted to…” They interrupted themself with a yawn.

Penny giggled. “Coffee is over there; mugs in there.” She gestured with a whisk as she spoke, pointing to a bright blue coffee machine and the cupboard above it. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Violet looked through the cupboard, searching fruitlessly for one without a cheesy slogan on it—they settled on a blue and orange mug that proudly proclaimed “I’m a dance teacher—what’s your superpower?” in swirly handwriting, filling it halfway with coffee, then topping it off with milk. Slowly sipping their concoction, they gave Penny a smile. “What’re you doing?” Calm, casual, caffeinated.

“I’m making pancakes!” Penny pulled a stack of measuring cups from the cabinet in front of her. “Wanna help?”

“Sure,” Violet said (maybe too quickly, but their brain still wasn’t up to speed—they could have been imagining things). “What can I…”

“I’m making two batches, one regular and one vegan—you wanna take one off my hands?” She handed Violet a mixing bowl, which they took, then set on the counter beside them.

“Okay, uh—how do I do that?”

Penny laughed. “I’ll teach you! Don’t worry; it’ll be a piece of pan-cake.”

Violet groaned, rolling their eyes fondly as Penny giggled to herself. “Fine, okay—where do we start?”

Under Penny’s guidance, Violet prepared their batch of pancakes—it was much easier than they imagined from watching Dad make them on Sunday mornings, back when they were little and the world was better. His recipe was more complicated, too complicated for them to remember more than the few steps they were allowed to help with, and took longer than the process they were sailing through, but that didn’t make baking with Penny less fun. She set aside strawberries to mix in with Violet’s batter, sneaking one whenever they pretended they weren’t looking, and made food pun after food pun, laughing at Violet’s playful threat to quit then and there.

The caffeine slowly kicked in, but the heightened anxiety Violet had been dreading never came—being with Penny was relaxing, almost; it felt so easy and so right that Violet didn’t have the time to overthink every word. As they measured out baking soda, Penny sang to herself, a song from Steven Universe that Violet knew well enough to recognize, but not enough to anticipate the lyrics. They sighed. It was so, so nice to have everything feel right.

“So, when did you and Roman get together?” Penny asked. “I didn’t think—you know, knowing him—that you’d be his…” She hesitated. “...type.”

“Oh.” Violet flushed (it was unfair how quickly they went red). “Two months? I was kinda surprised too—when he asked me out, I mean—we weren’t all that close before, and—” They were rambling, rambling and painfully aware of it, but Penny didn’t seem disinterested and they couldn’t stop. “Well, opposites attract, I guess? Princey’s not really my type either; usually I prefer—” Now it was really time to shut up. They forced the last word back, brushing their hair behind their ears.

When Violet started talking, Penny had been working on her pancake batter—now, she was listening attentively, her mixing bowl put aside, wearing an expression Violet couldn’t place.

Clearing their throat, Violet grabbed the carton of eggs. “Uh—how many do I put in this?”

“Oh!” Penny blinked as if she had been pulled from a trance, giving Violet a wide smile. “Two should be fine—you can add that to the milk, then add some oil and mix it up and you should be dandy!”

Violet nodded. “Thanks.”

They fell silent—Violet beat the eggs, then poured their mixture into the mixing bowl, folding in the liquids while Penny closed bags of sugar and flour strewn across the kitchen. Just as Violet smoothed out the last lumps in their batter, glancing over at Penny for approval, she stopped in her tracks. “Uh, Vi?” Penny said warily, gripping the side of an open bag of flour. “You might wanna take a look at this.”

“Huh?” Instantly, sirens went off in Violet’s mind. “What is it?” They stepped closer, standing on their toe tips to see over Penny’s shoulder—then Penny spun around, dabbing a fingertip full of flour on Violet’s nose.

“April fools!” she sang.

Violet’s anxiety made room for surprise, then vengeful glee—they brushed the flour off their nose, grabbing the nearest box. “Oh, just you wait!”

Excited, Penny squealed and darted away before Violet could get baking soda on her. They chased after her—Penny tossed a pinch of flour at them, most of it falling to the ground before it reached them. Her next toss was luckier, though, the white powder getting caught in Violet’s bangs.

Penny and Violet kept the food fight going until they were both covered in flour and sugar and baking soda and the kitchen looked like snow had fallen, both out of breath from laughing. Penny cornered Violet between two cabinets, holding her ammunition over them with a playful sparkle in her eyes.

“Wait, I give!” Violet panted, holding their hands over themself protectively. “You win.”

“Hah!” Grinning from ear to ear, Penny offered Violet a hand—they took it, letting her pull them up.

Suddenly, Penny was close, so, so close—tears of laughter were shining in the corners of her eyes, a faint blush underneath the powder dusting her skin. She was close enough that Violet could count the freckles on her cheeks, could touch the strands of hair that had come loose from her loose buns, could kiss—

Penny looked away. She didn’t let go of Violet’s fingers, giving them a shy smile. “You know, it’s too bad you’re dating Roman—I know someone else you’d really hit it off with.”

Violet frowned. “Huh?”

At that moment, Jo walked in and Penny let go of Violet as if she had been burned. “Morning!” she said quickly. “Coffee’s over there; pancakes will be ready in a sec!”

Jo gave them a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Thanks.”

As Penny went back to organizing breakfast, scooping batter into pans and humming while she worked, Violet went back to drinking their now lukewarm coffee. They couldn’t put their finger on it, but something about Penny’s expression just now—shy, as if she were telling them a secret—just wouldn’t leave their mind.

- - -

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#virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #platonic prinxiety #moxiety #romantic moxiety #hurt/comfort #fluff #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes

17 notes · View notes

daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

01 - The Deal

AO3 | Masterpost | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Pre-romantic Moxiety

Characters: Roman Sanders; Violet (Virgil) Sanders

Warnings: (Mentioned) Homophobic Parents

Words: 700

In need of a fake girlfriend to keep his parents off his rainbow trail, Roman asks out Violet. She asks him for a favour in return.

- - -

Violet crossed her arms over her patchwork hoodie. She hesitated a moment before responding, “You do know I’m gay, right?”

Roman nodded, making a frustrated gesture with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the strap of his messenger bag. “I know, and—look, I only need a girlfriend for, like, a month, and I need it to be someone I know won’t fall in love with me—”

Violet snorted.

Roman flushed red. “Oh, shut up, you know how the fanfictions go.”

Unimpressed, Violet picked at her nail polish, and Roman grimaced as she chipped off another bit of black paint. She raised an eyebrow at him (it was unbelievable how calm she was; wasn’t she at least interested in what he had to say?). “Shouldn’t you be worried about falling for your fake girlfriend too?” she asked mockingly.

Roman tensed. Violet’s smile fell as he looked around nervously, reassuring himself that no one was close enough to hear before admitting, “I’m gay.” Some tension left his shoulders, but he still couldn’t quite look Violet in the eye. “My parents aren’t supposed to find out, so I told them I have a girlfriend who’s in my math class to get them off my back, but now they want to meet her and you’re the only lesbian I know, so please?”

Violet sighed, burying her face in her hand. “Okay, even if I go along with—that, what’s in it for me?”

“I could get you…” Roman frowned. “What do you even like? A new flannel?”

“Stereotypes.”

Roman looked her up and down. “MCR merch?”

“Got enough already—okay.” She thought for a moment, brushing purple bangs out of her eyes. “You’re… good with people, right? Generally, I mean, not really in this situation—”

Roman scoffed.

“—but you could… fuck, how do I—” Violet worried her lip between her teeth. “She’s in drama club with you.”

Immediately, Roman’s face lit up. He cooed and Violet went scarlet.

“Don’t say a word, Princey, or I will end you.”

Roman didn’t even try to wipe the massive grin off his face. “Do go on.”

Violet hesitated, fidgeting with her sleeves. “You know Penny, right? She—”

"She walks on stage and even though she's only playing a minor character, it seems like every spotlight is shining for her. She brightens your days with her beautiful voice. She looks enchanting in that skirt Roman made for her; oh, if only there was a way to thank him for creating something so wonderful for such a wonderful person—" His hand resting on his heart, Roman paused. “She’s gay?”

“Bi. I just think she’s cute, you weirdo, and I wanna get to know her but flirting is weird and hard and—” Violet strained through the words as if each syllable would have rather stayed in her mouth than be spoken out loud. She stopped mid-sentence, staring at her shoes.

Roman paid her embarrassment no mind. “So if I help you get a girlfriend, you’ll pretend to be mine?”

Slowly, Violet nodded. “Seems fair.”

Roman grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “We have a deal! Oh, by Cupid’s golden arrows, this will be marvellous! You two will be the belles of every ball—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep it down.” Violet pushed him away and Roman made a noise like an offended cat. “I don’t need the whole school to know.” Despite her protests, a faint smile tugged at her lips. “So, uhh…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “When do I…”

“Oh!” Roman thought for a moment. “How’s next Friday, for dinner? Here—” He pulled a strip of paper with a phone number out of his bag. “Text me; we’ll talk about everything later.”

“Do you just carry those around with you?” Violet muttered, but she still pocketed it. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll let you know.”

“Well then, My Counterfeit Romance—” Roman bowed dramatically. “I await your message.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Violet sighed. Smiling, she rolled her eyes, then saluted with two fingers. “See you around, Princey.”

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #platonic prinxiety #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes #long post

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daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

02 - Drama Club

AO3 | Masterpost | Previous | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Pre-romantic Moxiety

Characters: Roman Prince; Violet (Virgil) Addams; Logan Sanders; Penelope (Patton) Foster

Warnings: Anxiety; Spiralling Thoughts; Referenced Ableism

Words: 1500

In hopes of getting closer to Penny, Violet joins the school’s drama club.

- - -

Violet nervously looked around the hallway. She was rarely ever in this part of the school, the only class taking place around here being PE (and those were memories she couldn’t lose fast enough)—but Roman said the classroom was around here, right? She couldn’t be too far away.

What was she even doing here? She wasn’t meant for drama—Mom almost laughed when Violet mentioned she wanted to join, and honestly, she should have. At least she could join the stage crew—anything to stay far away from the spotlight.

Violet took a deep breath—this would be fine; Roman knew what he was doing—and turned around another corner. At the end of the hall, Roman looked up from the small book he was holding, then waved at her excitedly. Violet cursed quietly (could he stand to be subtle for a second?) and, as far as her heavy backpack and the full hallway allowed, hurried towards him.

“You made it!” Roman greeted her, beaming.

Violet nodded awkwardly. “Can’t wait to see your masterplan, Aphrodite,” she said dryly. Roman ignored her tone, stretching out his hand.

Violet frowned.

Shaking his head with a smile Violet couldn’t interpret, Roman took her hand and intertwined their fingers. Right. They were dating now. She hesitated as Roman tugged her forward, then followed him into the classroom. That bit of acting was nothing she couldn’t handle.

- - -

The classroom wasn’t as full as Violet expected. Though that did almost nothing to calm her racing pulse—there were way too many eyes on them—on her—and she felt their judgement like a ten-pound weight on her chest. She didn’t belong here and they knew, oh, this was the dumbest thing she’d ever done—

Violet didn’t notice her grip on Roman’s hand slowly cutting off his circulation until he nudged her shoulder. She jumped, probably more than any normal person would have, and he pointed at a small group to their right. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

She nodded slightly (what was wrong with her; why couldn’t she talk) and Roman led her closer, finally tapping the shoulder of a boy in a wheelchair.

The guy spun around—he was dressed more like a law student than a high schooler (who even wore a tie to school?), and if he hadn’t been noticeably too young for the job, Violet might have mistaken him for a teacher. Adjusting his glasses, he raised an eyebrow at Roman.

“Teach, this is Violet, my girlfriend.” Teach (that couldn’t be his real name, right?) only seemed more sceptical. “She’s joining the stage crew. Vi, this is Logan—he’s a living encyclopedia and can tell you literally everything you need to know about sound tech.”

“Not literally,” Logan interjected.

Roman ignored him. “I’m pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t graduated yet is because without him, the school would collapse. Don’t ever challenge him at Scrabble.” The warning was surprisingly grave—Violet hadn’t considered a Scrabble match with him, or anyone to be fair, but now she was almost tempted.

Violet quickly forgot about Scrabble, though, when Roman raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. That wasn’t in the agreement, she thought, but her voice didn’t want to cooperate—though it was probably for the better. Roman knew what he was doing. “I’ll leave you to it,” Roman said evenly, then went off to the other corner of the classroom.

Logan watched him as he left, three deep lines etched into his forehead—if doubt could be summed up into one expression, he was wearing it perfectly.

“Uh—hi.” Violet finger-gunned and immediately cringed at herself.

“Salutations.” Logan looked her up and down and Violet pulled her sleeves over her hands—all of a sudden, she was incredibly self-conscious of her DIY hoodie and ripped jeans. Softly and somewhat resigned, Logan sighed. “Before you ask someone else—Roman in particular has a tendency to create entirely false narratives around my disability—” Distantly, Violet wondered how many dragons featured in those; Roman’s math notes were full of them. “I have fibromyalgia, a disorder that, among other symptoms, causes chronic pain and fatigue. To minimize the latter, I use a wheelchair. Yes, I can walk despite it; no, I do not want your advice; yes, I am capable of acting as a full human being and would prefer to be treated as such. Any questions?”

Violet shook her head. Of course she had been awkward enough to make Logan think she was judging or pitying him or whatever it was—for crying out loud, where was Roman when you needed him? He was so much better at finding the right words—or any words at all.

With every excruciating second of silence, the panic welling in her chest grew. Her breath was growing short—oh God, if she started crying now she would have to change schools; there was no way in hell she was coming back from that.

Logan softened. Struggling to find the right words, he hesitated, then said, “Apologies, I’ve been told I can come off as harsh—it wasn’t my intention to intimidate you.” His following smile was awkward, unsure, but still warm enough to loosen the knot in Violet’s chest.

Just as tentatively, Violet smiled back. “No, it’s okay—don’t worry about it.” She pulled her left sleeve over her hand, fidgeting with the zipper. “So, I guess I’m part of the stage crew now?”

Logan nodded. He held out his hand and Violet shook it (though her grip was nowhere near as firm as Logan’s, the gesture was more than enough to establish he could and would tear her arm off if given reason to). “Welcome to the team,” he said. “You’ll have an opportunity to meet everyone on another occasion—now, would you like an introduction to the technology we work with?”

Violet nodded—finally, the action didn’t feel forced. “Absolutely.”

- - -

Logan was halfway through with his introduction when Roman came back, wrapping his arms around Violet from behind and startling her enough that she nearly dropped the summary Logan had given her (his nickname was entirely deserved; he was an excellent teacher). Pressing a kiss to her cheek (Violet made a mental note to forcefully remind him of the agreement), Roman kept one arm around her shoulders, grinning at Logan.

“Can I steal her for a moment?”

Violet half-expected Logan to answer with some variation of ‘I don’t know, can you?’ but Logan resigned himself to an irritated grimace, adjusting his glasses. “Of course.”

Before Violet could protest not getting a say in her abduction (she was just getting a hang of the soundboard, after all), Roman spun her around—and there was Penny.

There was no getting used to just how beautiful she was. Her dark skin was dotted with even darker freckles and glitter swept over her cheekbones like a galaxy surrounding her ever-present smile. Her hair was tied into the same two buns as always, the scrunchies matching her sky blue dress and wow, if Logan had made Violet feel insecure about her outfit, it was nothing against the comparison with Penny. It was a mystery how she managed to look this stunning every day when most mornings, Violet barely managed to force herself out of bed in time.

Violet brushed her hair over her red-tipped ears as if that would stop them from burning like a spoon in a microwave—though that was immediately proven useless when Penny turned towards her and oh, seeing her smile up close was so, so different from watching across the classroom. Before her mind could fully succumb to her gay panic, Violet opened her mouth, not sure what she wanted to say.

Roman let go of her. “You two know each other, right?” he asked innocently.

Penny beamed at her and Violet prepared to pass out. “We have science together!” she explained cheerfully to Roman as he pretended this was news to him. “So—” She turned back to Violet. “—you’re part of the club now?”

Violet nodded, forcing herself to remember words. “Stage crew.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible, but Penny’s face lit up more—even the shitty fluorescents overhead couldn’t diminish her beauty—and then, before Violet knew what was happening, Penny hugged her.

Oh God oh God oh God. Violet froze, but Penny either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. For a moment, Violet’s hands hovered anxiously, then settled over her back. Penny was taller than her, making Violet stand on her tiptoes. She didn’t really mind, though—this was warm and comforting in a way Violet hadn’t felt in way too long and she could handle a tiny bit of discomfort in exchange.

Penny squeezed her close for another second, then let go and—with what Violet swore was a wink—said, “Welcome aboard!” She waved at Roman and Logan, then disappeared in the group beside them.

Roman elbowed Violet’s side, waggling his eyebrows. Violet flushed, then elbowed him back (though with more force than Roman’s nudge) and he made a wounded noise. Next to them, Logan sighed.

As Roman immediately took offense and began bickering with Logan, Violet watching almost fondly, she found herself thinking drama wouldn’t be that bad after all.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #platonic prinxiety #moxiety #romantic moxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes #long post

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daring-elm · 4 years

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My Counterfeit Romance

03 - Interest

AO3 | Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Pre-romantic Roceit; Pre-romantic Moxiety

Characters: Roman Prince; Remus Prince; Janus Herzberg; Violet (Virgil) Addams; Penelope (Patton) Foster

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Roman makes a new acquaintance. Violet is pleasantly surprised.

---

Roman stared at the clock, absent-mindedly watching the seconds pass—it was well past one in the morning; exhaustion was creeping into every muscle and filling his brain with cotton, but he didn’t plan on sleeping anytime soon. He ate another spoonful of soggy cornflakes.

He would regret this in the morning—Roman needed all the energy he could get, and caffeine wasn’t an option (it only made him sleepier)—but he couldn’t find the brainpower to care. Tomorrow Roman could deal with his mistakes. Mom and Dad were asleep and Remus had left to God-knows-where, so unless Jason or Ben woke up Roman had some time to himself; time that had to be cherished.

How convenient that his favourite pastime was eating cereal in Snow White pyjamas.

Roman sipped the milk from the bowl, wiped his lip with the back of his hand, then placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. It shut with a dull noise that echoed through the dark kitchen and made Duke lift his head, his tail thumping lazily against the brim of his basket when he saw Roman.

“Good boy,” Roman muttered, ruffling his ears. He yawned. Maybe he could watch an episode of Queer Eye before he passed out.

Behind him, the door opened. Roman forced back a startled scream, holding Duke’s snout shut before he could start barking at whoever was now casually stepping through the kitchen door.

Remus snickered and Roman’s panic faded. Oh. He turned around, already wearing his best frown, and his exasperated sigh caught in his throat.

Accompanying his brother was—someone. Someone tall and well-dressed, who was now scanning Roman and his Disney-print pyjamas with an amused smirk.

Fuck. Quickly, Roman stood up, as if his full height was at all impressive next to Remus (wearing platforms) and the someone (just that tall). Duke let out a soft boof and let his head sink to his paws again. Roman met the someone’s eyes (one hazel and one striking green, the latter surrounded by a port wine stain birthmark), then looked away, decidedly staring at the open cornflakes box behind Remus’s elbow.

“Ro-Ro, how kind of you to stop by!” Remus crowed. “Janus, this is Roman—I’m sure you can see the similarity.”

Roman had no clue why Remus insisted on pointing out they were twins at any opportunity—he did anything he could to look less like his brother, from dyeing his hair to growing that disgusting little rat moustache, that Roman would have expected him to be less fond of pointing out their likeness.

“Wonderful to meet you,” Janus said evenly, his lips still curled.

“My pleasure,” Roman muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest as if that would hide the dwarf taking up the front of his shirt.

“Oh, don’t mind him!” Remus grinned, revelling in Roman’s embarrassment. “He’s just a little grumpy.” The jab at Roman’s pyjamas was quickly followed by a jab to his ribs. Glaring at Remus, Roman yelped and hugged his arm to his side.

Janus laughed lightly. “I don’t mind.” As much as Roman wanted to wipe that infuriating little smile off his face, the look in his eyes—almost fond, certainly intrigued—made his stomach flip. Suddenly uncertain that his knees would hold him, Roman held onto the counter behind him as subtly as the action allowed. Remus looked back and forth between them gleefully.

Roman made a mental note to murder his brother.

Janus sighed. “Well, I had better be going—Roman, it was so lovely meeting you.” His eyes scanned Roman again, his smile warming up—oh, now he was back to making Roman melt—and he tilted his head just enough that a strand of honey-blond hair came loose from under his hat. Roman’s heart skipped.

“Remus, thank you for a wonderful night.” Janus continued unmoved, as if he hadn’t just set a swarm of butterflies free in Roman’s stomach. “I’ll see you on Friday.” Once again, his gaze flitted to Roman—a silent and-you-too—and the butterflies morphed into gryphons.

“Friday it is.” Remus kissed the air next to each of Janus’s cheeks, Janus going along with the gesture. Then, Janus turned to the door and, with a small wave to Roman, disappeared into the night.

Roman and Remus stood in silence for a bit, watching the door fall closed with a soft click, then Remus stretched with an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I should be going to sleep—good night, brother dearest.” He waved, playfully wiggling his fingers, then turned to leave.

“Remus, wait.”

Remus paused in the doorway. For a second, he wore an expression Roman couldn’t quite place—something fragile and almost hopeful—before it made room for a mocking eyebrow raise.

“Was he…” Roman dug for the right words—he hadn’t had a normal conversation with Remus for so long; he had forgotten how to start it. “Was that your boyfriend?”

Remus snorted in a way that, while not clarifying anything, made Roman feel incredibly stupid. “You think too much.” He turned on his heel, singing, “Sweet dreams!”

Despite everything, Roman knew his brother well enough to tell he meant to wish him the opposite.

---

Violet stuffed her hands in her pockets—not much longer and it would be too warm for her to wear her hoodie every day (not that that had stopped her in the past). Her camera bag hung at her side, swinging back and forth as she walked.

She didn’t remember why she started photography—but by now, it had become a part of her. It let her relax; let her put on her headphones and tune out her anxiety while she worked (that nagging voice in the back of her mind became exhausting after a while) and after a few years, it became as natural as the sun rising every morning.

The park she was at now was just outside of town, a short bus ride from school—she had discovered it in December, when it looked almost pitiful (no way they’d get a good sheet of snow in Florida). Now, the magnolias were blossoming and everything was looking a bit more alive. Violet freed her camera from her bag, gently wiping down the lens, then turned it on—good, she hadn’t forgotten to charge it. Focusing on a white flower (this one was already in full bloom), she absent-mindedly mouthed along to the music playing from her earbuds.

Just as she had hoped, Violet tuned out the world around her, losing herself to lighting and lens flares and Evanescence. The few people around her faded into background noise—for once, she couldn’t care less about how they saw her.

As far gone as she was, Violet didn’t hear an all-too-familiar voice call, “Chocolate, wait!” nor did she see the puppy bounding towards her—that was, until it jumped up at her, barking excitedly. Startled, Violet took a step back, taking out her earbuds.

Running after the dog came Penny, flustered and frazzled—she picked it up around its middle, grinning sheepishly as it strained to lick her face. “Hey, Vi!”

Violet made a strangled noise.

“Sorry we scared you—Chocolate’s still a baby; he’s not good at boundaries yet.” Penny pressed a finger to his snout, speaking in a babying tone, “Are you, boy?”

Chocolate barked and tried to bite her finger. Penny laughed, bright and bell-like, beaming with triple the force of the February sun. Violet felt faint. “Anyway,” Penny said (there was no way she hadn’t noticed Violet’s blush yet; either she was being nice or incredibly oblivious). “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” Lamely, Violet held up her camera. “Photography.”

As if Violet had said anything even remotely interesting, Penny’s face lit up. Quickly, she set down Chocolate, bouncing on her heels. “Can I see?”

Violet hummed, opening the last picture she took—it was so much harder to find something she was proud of with Penny looking over her shoulder. She went through a few favourites, shakily explaining the basics of lighting and positioning while Penny listened attentively, oohing and aahing in all the right places.

Suddenly, she lit up. “I should model for you!” Penny declared—her raised voice made Chocolate bark, unaware what the noise was about but enthusiastic to add to it. She struck an exaggerated pose. “What do you think?”

“Sure,” Violet said warily, ignoring her heart trying to escape her chest. She wasn’t sure if Penny was making fun of her or not, but on the off chance she wasn’t, Violet would rather throw her camera in the ocean than miss this opportunity. “I, uh, haven’t really done that before—worked with, like, models, I mean—but… why not?” She shrugged, offering a slight smile.

Penny squealed, her hands flapping at her sides. “Okay! Okay.” She looked around the park, a bit unsure, then skipped to the nearest magnolia tree. “How’s this for a background?”

Violet hummed, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “Maybe move a bit to the left?” Penny did. “No, the other left—wait.”Violet jogged over, standing two feet to Penny’s left. “Come here.”

Penny did—before Violet had a chance to talk herself out of it, she adjusted Penny’s shoulders, turning her towards the light. She looked up at Penny’s face and her breath left her entirely.

Her mind raced with phrases even Roman would find unnecessarily cheesy, something about chocolate brown eyes and constellation freckles and fuck, if Violet hadn’t been in love before she sure as hell was now. Penny was beautiful, so beautiful that Violet nearly forgot what she was doing.

Violet shook her head. “Stay like that.” She took a few steps back, focusing on her camera in hopes that it would make the butterflies disappear.

“Okay, what do I do?” Penny bounced nervously, locked in the position Violet had placed her in.

“Figure it out; you’re the model,” Violet teased. “Just act natural and look at me.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Penny joked. “With this view?” She gestured to her.

Violet blushed furiously and Penny giggled. “Yeah, yeah.” She dismissed the compliment, sheepishly tucking her hair behind her ear. “Now focus.”

Penny smoothed down her dress, shifted her weight slightly, then nodded. “Ready.”

The first few pictures were, well, awkward. Violet was shaky, Penny was too stiff, and everything distracted them, from wind blowing in their faces to kids running in and out of the shot. But after a few minutes, they began to relax. It started with Penny making an abysmal pun (“I wanted to start photography too, you know—I just couldn’t keep focus!”) and Violet threatening to leave then and there, then capturing Penny’s laugh at her overblown reaction—the tension slowly faded as they joked around, playing with different poses and angles.

Chocolate joined the photoshoot as well, jumping around Violet until Penny called him over and picked him up again. From there, they kept taking pictures with and without the puppy (Chocolate was a surprisingly good model—Penny insisted he must have inherited it from her).

“Miss Addams?” Penny said nasally another minute after Chocolate had gone off to chase a butterfly, making Violet laugh.

“Yes, Miss Foster?”

“Can I try on your hoodie?” Penny made grabby hands at her.

“Oh.” Violet hesitated. “Sure.” Slowly, she took it off—she shuddered in the cool air; it was a mystery how Penny had survived in a sleeveless dress for so long. Penny took the hoodie, slipping it on—it was intentionally oversized on Violet, with enough fabric to sink into and hide behind, but it fit Penny perfectly. She snuggled into it, her hands in the pockets.

Despite her missing hoodie, Violet felt warm and fuzzy, something gentle and fragile filling her chest. “Ready?” she asked, raising her camera. Penny hummed softly.

They parted a while later, after the sun had sunken so far behind the rooftops that Violet couldn’t find good lighting no matter what and Penny’s moms had each called to ask where on earth she was. Violet had promised to send her the pictures (she had gotten Penny’s number for it; the universe really was on her side today) and Penny had hugged her goodbye before collecting Chocolate and making her way home.

On the bus ride home, Violet curled deeper into her hoodie—Penny’s perfume clung to it, leaving a note of jasmine and strawberry that Violet hoped would never fade out.

---

Later that night, Violet scrolled through her notifications, only to find herself tagged in an Instagram post. She opened the photoset, her eyes immediately catching on the caption:

Thank you to @the_purple_parade for the photoshoot, the pictures turned out great!!! 💙💙💙

Grinning to herself, Violet buried her face in her pillow as she wondered how this girl managed to make her fall deeper in love every day.

#roceit #moxiety #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #romantic roceit #romantic moxiety #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes

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daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

Masterpost

Rating: T

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Romantic Moxiety; Romantic Roceit

Characters: Roman Prince; Violet (Virgil) Addams; Penelope (Patton) Foster; Janus Herzberg; Logan Sanders; Remus Prince

Roman has a problem - his parents are suspecting he's gay, and in order to throw them off his rainbow trail, he invented a girlfriend that he now has to recruit. Having read his share of fake dating AUs, Roman asks out the one girl he knows won't fall for him - but Violet isn't willing to go back in the closet out of the goodness of her heart. Her and Roman make a deal: If Violet pretends to be Roman's girlfriend, Roman will help her talk to the girl she likes. It seems simple enough - that is, until Roman falls in love and puts the whole act in jeopardy.

AO3 | Playlist: Spotify/YouTube

Chapters:

The Deal: In need of a fake girlfriend, Roman asks out Violet. She asks him for a favour in return. | 10/08/2020

Drama Club: In hopes of getting closer to Penny, Violet joins the school's drama club. | 23/08/2020

Interest: Roman makes a new acquaintance. Violet is pleasantly surprised. | 08/09/2020

Performance: Violet meets Roman's family. | 29/09/2020

From the Bottom up (1/2): The drama club goes on a weekend trip. Everyone becomes a bit closer. | 17/10/2020

From the Bottom up (2/2): The drama club goes on a weekend trip. Everyone becomes a bit closer. | 01/12/2020

The Play: The day of the big performance finally arrives. Afterwards, a special guest is waiting for Roman. | coming soon

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #platonic prinxiety #moxiety #roceit #romantic moxiety #romantic roceit #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes

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daring-elm · 4 years

Text

My Counterfeit Romance

04 - Performance

AO3 | Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

Genre: Fake Dating AU

Relationships: Platonic Prinxiety; Familial Creativitwins, Roman & OCs

Characters: Roman Prince; Violet (Virgil) Addams; Remus Prince; OCs

Warnings: shitty parents; references to homophobia; fatphobia; remus being gross

Words: 2.1k

Violet meets Roman’s family.

- - -

This was it—the day Roman had been waiting for; the Friday on which Janus was coming back (just the thought of seeing him made Roman all giddy) and the Friday on which Violet would meet Mom and Dad (less giddy, ranging more from jumpy to abso-fucking-lutely terrified).

Six thirty. She was coming by at six thirty, and the closer the time came, the more nervous Roman got. His room was stress-cleaned to perfection, his pacing wearing out the newly visible carpet as he tried to keep up with the thoughts shooting through his head at a dizzying speed. What if they wouldn’t like her? What if Remus recognized and outed her? What if Violet slipped up? What if he slipped up? What if—

Roman shook his head, shooing his anxieties away like flies. He just had to focus, had to act , and it would be fine. He had faked his way into this mess and he could fake his way out of it. In a week or so, he could stage a dramatic break-up, and Violet could go off with Penny and Roman might even get a pity kiss out of Janus (granted he and Remus weren’t dating—but to be honest, he couldn’t see Remus dating anyone, let alone someone as handsome as Janus).

Roman nodded to himself—it would all work out according to plan. By Athena, it was rare that he even had a plan, but he was confident in his improvisation skills. The only difference here to normal acting was that his audience wasn’t aware it was one, and the consequence of messing up was a bit harsher than the average school play. Otherwise, though, he was fine. He had to be.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened it, checking the message.

Vi 💜🌼: im outside & didnt wanna ring the doorbell in case ur family answers, let me in

Roman took a deep breath. Showtime.

- - -

“Violet, right on time,” Mom said with a fake smile she usually reserved for dinners with Dad’s investors. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She delicately stretched out her hand.

Violet gave Roman a nervous glance before shaking it. Her smile was strained, her voice barely shaky as she responded, “Nice to meet you too.”

Dad appeared behind Mom, stepping out of the shadows like Batman without any of the cool outfits or vigilantism. “Welcome,” he said warmly, shaking her hand next. Violet winced at his firm grip, giving him a small nod.

“Roman, dear,” Mom directed as if they were children on a playdate, “Why don’t you show Violet your room? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Roman nodded. He took Violet’s hand, breaking her out of the same stupor of a deer face-to-face with a cougar, and jerked his head towards the stairs. “This way.”

“And leave the door open!” Mom called after them.

The second they were out of sight, Roman gagged, making Violet snort.

As they crossed the hall, Remus left his room (it was right next to Roman’s, which he despised —there were some things he really didn’t need to hear at 2am on a school night). Roman stopped and a heartbeat later, Violet did too, a puzzled frown on her face. Eyebrows raised, Remus looked Violet up and down first, his bemusement growing as his gaze wandered from her white blouse to her blue skinny jeans—fair enough, Roman admitted begrudgingly. He had only ever seen her in that patched-up hoodie; that outfit change had to be a bit weird for Remus too. Then Remus scanned him, the lines on his forehead deepening, and Roman felt an awful lot like he had failed a test he didn’t remember taking.

Remus grinned, broad and smug, and kept walking without another word. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Roman scoffed.

“What was that about?” Violet muttered.

Roman shrugged. “Remus is, uh…” For a moment, Roman had the urge to defend his brother, though he couldn’t say why. “...He’s like that.” He opened his bedroom door, making a sweeping gesture towards it. “M’lady.”

Violet rolled her eyes, stepping in.

She stopped in the middle of the room, slowly looking around Roman’s walls, over his corkboard of postcards and photographs, over posters he saw and liked without any reason behind them, over Disney figurines lining his shelf. She was swimming for a moment, searching for something to say—she looked as unsure as Roman felt (he rarely had guests over, let alone guests he was pretending to date). Shortly, Violet gestured to the Gryffindor plaque above his bed. “...Harry Potter, huh?”

Roman nodded. He wasn’t usually this awkward; what was wrong with him? “What’s your house?”

Violet shrugged. “I was never all that into it.” She ignored Roman’s playfully offended huff, a smile creeping onto her face. “I mean, I liked the movies, but—” At that, Roman genuinely scoffed. Violet laughed. “Go on, you big nerd, indoctrinate me.”

Roman pulled out his phone. “I am sorting you right now ; sit down.”

Violet sat on the edge of his bed, holding up her hands disarmingly. “So there’s Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and, uh…”

“Hufflepuff. You’ll probably end up in Slytherin, edge lord.” Roman sat down beside her, handing her his phone. “Here, have fun.”

Gently, Violet shook her head. “I will.”

- - -

Ten minutes later, Violet found herself facing a blue banner declaring her a Ravenclaw. “...Huh.”

Roman sat up. “Let me see—oh.” He nodded to himself. “Well, that’s good—I don’t have to break up with you.” Violet frowned and Roman grinned in response. “I could never fake-date a Slytherin.”

Snorting softly, Violet shoved him, and Roman fell back on the mattress with a wounded noise. She laughed.

“You dare laugh at my pain?” Grinning broadly, Roman shoved her back and she yelped, catching herself on the bed frame. “There, that’s what you get.”

“Oh, just you—”

At that moment, the door opened. Roman and Violet both jumped to either corner of the bed as Remus poked his head into the room, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Good, you’re not fucking.”

Near-silent, Roman made a disgusted noise. Violet stifled a giggle.

“Dinner’s ready. Come downstairs.” With those words, Remus disappeared—all that was left was the faint sound of footsteps on the staircase.

“Well then.” Roman stood up, offering Violet his hand with a bow. “Ma chère mademoiselle,” he said in an abysmal French accent, “allow me to proudly present: your dinner.”

Rolling her eyes, Violet took his hand. “Nerd.”

Ignoring her, Roman hummed the melody of “Be Our Guest” to himself and led them out of the room—there was no avoiding what came next; better to take it as calmly as he could.

- - -

“So, Violet,” Dad opened, giving her the friendliest smile his animated–capitalist-esque appearance had to offer, “What do your parents do for a living?”

“Uh.” Nervously, Violet’s gaze flitted to Remus, who was piling carrots onto Ben’s plate as he pretended not to be playing Minecraft under the table, then focused on her plate again. “My mom’s a history professor at the college here and my dad’s a police captain. He lives up in Georgia though; I don’t really see a lot of him.”

Roman shoved his carrots to the side of his plates (something him and Remus could agree on—they weren’t meant to be eaten), carefully watching his family. Mom had been wearing the same fake smile since Violet stepped through the door; Dad was hiding his lawful-evil-Bruce–Wayne aura and pretending to be a kind and attentive father and Jason hadn’t said a word this whole time—Remus and Ben were the only ones acting normal, Remus being distracted with something petty when he wasn’t squabbling with someone and Ben busying himself with video games first and anything else second.

Mom skillfully hid a judgmental frown at Violet’s last statement. “Are they separated, then?”

“Divorced.” Violet shrunk back—Roman tapped his knee against hers, not sure what he was trying to express. “Mom and I moved to Florida, uh, two years ago.”

Mom made a sympathetic noise. Just as she opened her mouth to ask another off-putting and invasive question, Ben looked up from his phone to catch Remus placing the last carrot on his plate. “Hey!” He punched Remus on the arm. “Take those back!”

Remus opened his mouth and Mom cut in. “Boys! We have a guest; behave .”

To Roman’s right, Jason sighed.

Sulking, Remus and Ben slid back in their chairs—it was hard to believe Remus was his twin sometimes; he acted like he was twelve.

Dad chuckled. “It’s good to have you here, Violet,” he said in his casual, everyday-dad tone, “Susan and I were almost worried Roman would turn out like his brother.”

Remus’s fork fell on his plate with a clatter.

Roman’s muscles locked up—he stared at his plate, forcing himself to ignore Violet’s panicked glance. This was it; this was what he had been scared of; hopefully she would react like Roman needed her to right now.

She forced out a strangled laugh and Roman could almost breathe again. Dad didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, carrying on to the next thing he could criticize, “I’ve been trying to get him to join the football team for years—do you think you could nudge him there?”

Roman tuned out Violet’s stammered response, along with Mom’s gentle reprimand.

Today he wasn’t alone in playing a part—there were seven actors at the table, and none of them would ever give away their role.

- - -

“...Wow.” Violet looked past Roman’s head at the front door, illuminated by the porchlights, and shuddered. She wrapped the jacket Roman had given her around herself—even though he was barely taller than her, she looked oddly small and lost in it.

Roman laughed awkwardly. “Yeah.” He stared at the ground, at Violet’s black converse in front of his mismatched socks, then back at her. “Thank you. For being there. I know it was a lot, and you really didn’t have to—”

“Hey.” Violet offered him a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Roman promised.

“Really, don’t worry.” She gave him a small, two-fingered salute. “See you Monda—”

Before he knew what he was doing, Roman hugged her. Violet froze.

Shit.

Almost immediately, Roman let go again, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I—sorry, I didn’t think and—”

She hugged him back and Roman immediately softened. He buried his face in Violet’s shoulder—she smelled like his laundry detergent and blue-raspberry–scented hair dye—and was soft and warm and so very comforting—it should have been illegal to give such amazing hugs. Violet held on until he let go (it probably took him a bit longer than was normal, but who was he to say), giving him a warm smile, any trace of awkwardness gone from her expression. “I gotta go now or I’ll miss my bus—but I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. “Okay.” She waved goodbye and Roman waved back, watching her leave with a warm sensation in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

- - -

Later that evening, Roman was stretched out on his bed—Remus had disappeared entirely without him noticing and with him Roman's chance to see Janus again. He sighed to himself, flopping on his stomach. Maybe Netflix had something to offer.

Someone knocked on his door. “Yeah?” Roman called, sitting up lazily.

Mom poked her head through the door. “Hey, Sweetie.”

Roman made a non-committal grunt.

She sat down next to him. Roman raised an eyebrow at her, subtly shoving his phone under his pillow. “You know,” Mom started, “it was very nice to meet Violet today.”

But?

“She seems like a very sweet girl with a lot of—” She paused. “—style, and I'm glad you can have fun together.”

“Hm.” Any second now; something was still missing…

“Though I never expected to see you with someone all that—” Mom's voice dropped to a hushed whisper, as if Violet was hiding under the bed and hearing every word she was saying.“— chubby .”

“ Mom! ”

She rolled her eyes, lightly hitting his shoulder. “Oh, don't be like that; you could still do worse.” She paused, waiting for Roman to lose his frown. He didn't. “I can't wait to see her at the family reunion—you're bringing her along, right?”

Fuck. Roman nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course.”

Beaming, Mom squeezed his hand. “That's my Roman. Good night!”

“Night, Mom.” Roman let her kiss his forehead, giving her a half-wave as she left the room.

Looked like he'd have to move his dramatic break-up back a while.

#platonic prinxiety #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #fics #mcfr tag #casey's writing #behold: my stuff #casey's notes

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