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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Nickleback (Demus)

Summary: Based off @underdog-arts Band AU. Janus and Remus are both broadcasting majors and Remus just wants to maybe mush lips and make out ????

Based on: @underdog-arts Band AU which can be found on their Patreon.

Ship: Flirty Demus (future romance obvious). Pre-Canon timeline.

Rating & Warnings: PG13-ish. Make outs. Pretty vagueish.

Disclaimer: The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author. Also, this is based off @underdog-arts Band AU.

A03: Link.

“Wait… so you’re saying you don’t hate Nickleback?”

The blond enby looked his way, eyelids lowered in a way that made them look as if they were about to let Remus in on the secret of his lifetime. The little smirk that slipped onto their face did nothing to stop the sudden rapid thud of his heart against his chest that seemed to be a constant side effect of spending time with the person.

Janus.

What an odd name? Still, it fit the enby. Like a glove.

“That’s a great way to say it,” Janus said with a little lilted chuckle. It was almost musical, in a way. “I don’t really like them but I will definitely listen through one of their songs if it’s on. Kinda a tradition, at this point. And really, they aren’t awful, really. Just not…”

“Anything to write home about?” Remus asked with a snort and a shrug.

Janus eyed him at that moment before slowly nodding. “Precisely, my friend.”

Their gazes held for a few moments after that. Remus felt like he needed to say or do something. Like, maybe let out a fake fart sound. Anything to break the almost iron hold that those pretty mismatched eyes had over him. He glanced from one, then to the other, and before he could stop himself, his gaze was falling to the tiny little smile that tugged on Janus’s lips.

When his eyes met Janus’s once more, Remus blushed to see the look in those amazing eyes. Janus had totally caught the way his gaze lingered on their lips. And yet, they weren’t saying or doing anything. Just grinning at him in a playful, engaging way.

That was all good right?

Ugh.

If only he could text his brother and ask. Roman was a bit of a Chad when it came to most things and was definitely always clueless in his own love life, but seemed to have a knack of romance when it came to other people. And that was what Remus needed right now.

As Janus picked up the document that explained their project, Remus pulled out his phone and quickly typed a text to his brother letting him know about the eye gazing that just went down and asking what to do next.

A few moments passed as he watched Janus set up the recording equipment that would allow them to create their radio broadcast project and when he looked down next, he saw the telltale ellipses that announced that Roman was responding.

Come on, bro.

He didn’t want the moment to pass though he was pretty sure it had already. A soft generic trill let him know that his brother responded but just as he opened the message, his phone was tugged out of his hand.

The next few moments happened in an almost dreamlike manner. He looked up to see that Janus now had his phone, their two-toned eyes locked on the screen as the little smile slowly grew into a bigger and more playful smirk.

Remus watched as the other clicked the button on the phone to put it to sleep, set it aside and quite obviously out of reach from Remus, before finally looking up at him. They turned their chair slightly to face him more easily.

“So… you’ve got a crush on me and want to kiss me, Remus?”

Remus blushed. He was so not a blusher but at that very moment, he couldn’t help it. Then again, the other was not weirded out or upset, so that was still very much in his favor, right?

His fingers itched to ask Roman but Janus had made that impossible. He could only rely on his own instincts.

I’m so screwed.

Remus decided that honesty was probably the best policy at this point.

“I… um…” Honesty. “Hell to the fuck yes, I do.”

Janus rested their elbow on the table’s surface and tilted their head, resting their cheek on their closed fist. The look on their face was definitely a “tell me more” sort of look.

“Oh? Yes, you do to which… the crush or the kissing?”

Remus grinned. “Both. Definitely.”

Janus grinned back.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Remus’s eyebrows rose nearly into his green hairline. He quickly gained his confidence once more, however, and reached out to take hold of the other’s shirt. Tugging them in, he grinned a sharp smile, his brown eyes locked on Janus’s heterochromatic ones.

“I guess I’m waiting for you to say you want it just as bad, babe.”

Janus chuckled and rolled their eyes.

“Guess you’ll be waiting for a very long time then,” they said, looking unfazed. However, the burning interest in those eyes was not something Janus was able to hide.

“Wrong. You just did.”

The slightest of blushes tinging the other’s cheeks was all it took. Remus surged forward and kissed Janus hard, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as the enby kissed back just as eagerly.

They continued to kiss like that, not stopping until the next broadcast major team came for their turn in the booth. Janus was certain that they could talk the instructor into giving them another session but Remus honestly couldn’t care.

One F would not be a hard price to pay for what just happened. Still, rather than tell Janus that, he did the only thing he could think of at this point.

“Wanna go up to my dorm and pick up from where we were so rudely interrupted?”

Remus’s heart thudded rapidly once more as the other moved into his space, brushed their lips against his own, and practically purred out their response.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”

With that, Remus watched Janus walk away. He was already feeling great about the next time he would see the enby but that feeling tripled when Janus—now about halfway down the hallway—glanced back at him with that same little smirk.

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Just two boys, loving and supporting their boyfs.

Analogical.

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Going Down (On One Knee)

Summary: Prompt fill for @lordkingsmith from Random Dialogue prompts.

Prompt: "I am not prepared! I am far from being prepared!"

Ship: Romantic Dukexiety

Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for Remus. Some vague but suggestive content. Also some gross, potentially disturbing inner dialogue from Remus but all fairly tame. [Basically just be wary and if you need to stop reading, do so! I love all my readers, but take care of you first!]

A03: Link

Remus cackled excitedly to himself as he moved to stand in the middle of Virgil’s room in the mind palace. Ever since they had started to date, Remus had been coming to Virgil’s room more and more. Now, a year and a half later, Remus forgot what his room looked like ninety percent of the time.

He glanced at Virgil’s—No, that’s OUR’s—their bed and he couldn’t help the naughty little smirk that curled across his lips. His “power” allowed him to project images anywhere he wanted and so he did so now, projecting little replays of some of his and Virgil’s more… kinky times. Not that he didn’t enjoy the moments when Virgil and he made love to each other. He did. And those definitely held a very special place in his irregularly-shaped, deranged heart.

Ignoring the voice of Logan in his mind explaining that they didn’t have things like hearts and minds due to being figments of Thomas’s imagination, Remus turned around slowly, taking the room in.

It looked the same as it always had… well, no. That was not true. He had seen changes to the room, small though they were, during this time with Virgil the tone of the room hadn’t changed. Just little reminders of the victories Virgil—and in some ways, Remus—had achieved, both separate and together. And yet, there was a certain new air to the room. It hadn’t replaced it and it wasn’t a scent Remus could give a name to… clean and sweet things weren’t Remus’s area of expertise.

Making a note to ask Patton to give a name to that aura, Remus put it out of his mind as he heard the tell-tale squeak of Virgil’s converse just down the hall. Quickly, Remus dropped down on one knee. He then knelt there, waiting, only to realize he hadn’t taken out the most important thing from his pocket.

Which one was it… no… nope… ooooh, nope… ah! There!

Remus pulled the box out just as the door opened and Remus dropped the box in his surprise. It sort of hop-rolled in Virgil’s direction only to stop at Virgil’s feet. Remus hummed at the turn of events, shrugging as he decided to just see what would come of them.

Watching Virgil, Remus took in the way he blinked slowly like a mangy rat on drugs that had just escaped an evil science lab only to be eaten by a starving flea-bitten stray. Remus couldn’t help but giggle at that, which seemed to catch Virgil’s attention. He narrowed his eyes at Remus, though Remus couldn’t help but wriggle at the fondness he saw there too. Virgil then looked down at his feet, saw the box, looked up at Remus, then down at the box again.

He opened his mouth, seemingly wishing to say something but closed it a few moments later. Watching as his lover bent over to pick up the little box—and trying half-heartedly to ignore the part of him wishing Virgil was turned around as he bent over—Remus just smiled his usual wide and, some would say, creepy grin. Virgil looked at the box for a few moments before looking up at him, a question in his black eyes.

Remus just shrugged, starting to wriggle in excitement.

Virgil sighed that long-suffering sigh but snorted a second later. An eye roll even accompanied it! That was how Virgil showed his love. Eyerolls.

Allowing the entertaining thought of Virgil’s eyes popping out of his head only to roll around on the floor, Remus brought his attention back to Virgil who was now opening the box. Remus couldn’t see the object inside due kneeling in line with Virgil but he saw the moment Virgil realized what it was.

“If this is a joke, Remus, so help me!”

Remus cackled lovingly and waved a hand loosely.

“Aw, Virgil. Ever the jokester. No, my sweet fuzzy poisonous spider, it’s not a joke. But it is funny that I was so not prepared but you come in even more prepared than me!”

Virgil’s eyes widened comically.

"Remus! What the hell are you on? You were planning to propose to me? I am not prepared! I am far from being prepared!"

Remus just wriggled and giggled, looking up at Virgil with all the sappy love and adoration his dirty, stinky, rotten self could give, which was surprisingly a lot.

But only when it came to his stinky, winky spider.

“See! You even knew I was proposing… which by the way, I wasn’t planning on proposing. I haven’t planned a day in my life! Plans are for Nerdy Wolverine. So yep, nope. No plans here.”

Virgil suddenly looked very confused. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

“I am proposing!”

If looks could kill, the one Virgil sent his way would make Remus a stinky, rotten, maggot-infested corpse six feet or more underground. Remus smiled sweetly. Well, as sweetly as Remus could, anyway.

“So, what do you say?” He asked, shimming from his spot on the floor, practically vibrating with excitement.

Virgil stared at him for a good few moments. He then pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds after that. A long, heavy sigh sounded next followed by a fond but incredulous laugh.

When Virgil looked down at the ring again, he blushed. While it wasn’t the half-eaten body of a mouse that was the interrupted meal of a snake, it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was proven wrong, however, a second later when those dark eyes looked up at him, filled with warmth.

Virgil tried not to smile, Remus could tell. He could always tell. Luckily, the personification of Anxiety failed and Remus could only stay basking in the love radiating from his boyfriend.

“Yes, Remus… I can’t believe I’m saying this… I don’t know for the life of me why I’m saying this, but… yes… I will marry you.”

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Music & Poetry - Chapter One

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter One

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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Chapter One

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in two minutes. He was standing outside of the main hall of the university where he would be speaking on that day. Due to his need for extensive planning, however, he was nearly two hours early for when he was required to be there.

He considered checking in with the dean of the school but knew that many people felt inconvenienced by those who arrived more than an hour early. Typically, Logan didn’t care too much about inconveniencing others with early arrivals, but Thomas Sanders, the dean of the school, was not just some man who had invited him to speak at this year’s graduation. Thomas was also a very dear friend of his, and Logan would hate to add any undue anxiety onto the man’s already burdened shoulders.

Sighing again, Logan considered the time once more before opening Google Maps and searching for nearby cafes.

Of course, Logan thought as his eyes took in the ten plus pins indicating Starbucks Coffee shops in the area. It was not that Logan was a coffee snob, though his best friend Roman would disagree, he was simply a man who knew what he liked, and Starbucks was awful in terms of taste compared to value. In his opinion, of course—although anyone who disagreed was an idiot.

Scrolling down to the list, his gaze was caught by the third listing. The Bumble Bean. Logan hummed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the pun. It was, after all, better than the alternative.

He noted the letter corresponded with the shop before consulting the map. Clicking on the name of the cafe, it popped up on the map and Logan clicked its little pin. The shop’s information appeared in a little bubble, including the business hours and, more importantly, the distance from his current location.

A block and a half away. Not bad for a walk, especially considering the suit he wore. Decision made, Logan set down his messenger bag long enough to pull off the suit jacket. Lifting his bag from the ground, he draped his jacket over the bag and shouldered the strap once more.

A quick click of the directions link on Google Maps and he was on his way.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

💀 VIRGIL 💀

Virgil leaned back in the leather armchair he occupied, covering a yawn with his arm.

“Don’t start with that now, ViVi.”

Virgil grinned as he looked up at the barista who also happened to be his best friend.

“Sorry, Pat.”

Patton Hart was five foot four inches of adorable from the top of his curls to his white chucks with rainbow cat faces printed on the material. He also had the endearing habit of worrying for his friends. Especially Virgil.

“Late night again?” Patton asked, brows furrowing in concern behind oversized glasses with gold round frames. Virgil nodded. “Sleep is important, kiddo.”

Anyone who overheard the conversation would likely wonder why Patton—who easily looked younger than Virgil, though they were actually the same age—was calling him kiddo, but Virgil had come to accept that as just Patton being Patton. He was definitely a mom and dad friend.

Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He brought a hand to his eyes, closing them to rub at the lids before offering Patton a winning smile. “These lyrics won’t write themselves.”

Patton pursed his lips as he set Virgil’s black coffee down on a coaster. Once he’d straightened up, hands were fisted and rested on hips. Virgil tried his best to hold back a grin, but the other looked too adorable like that and so he failed. Miserably.

“It’s not funny, Virgil. One of these days, you’re gonna wish you’d listened to dear ol’ Patton.”

“And when that day comes, I will gladly accept your ‘I told you so’. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl and my brain works best in the dead of night.”

Patton tutted but said nothing else on the matter. “Don’t forget, its drinks night tonight. Emile will be late but I should be able to close up a little early so I’ll be there at ten.”

Virgil nodded. “Alright. Honestly, though, I don’t know why I even go. Ever since you two started dating, I feel like such a third wheel. Are you sure you two just don’t want the time to yourself? You and I could always catch up later.”

“Nonsense. Emile is as much your friend as he is mine, boyfriend or not. And, I don’t want to hear another word about it, mister.”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, mom.”

“Good. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He glanced up at the front and gave a start. “Oops, gotta get back to work. I’ll try to chat when the rush ends.”

Virgil waved him off. “Sure thing, buddy. Talk to you later.”

Watching Patton make his way behind the counter, Virgil let his gaze wander to take in the other patrons of the little cafe. A smile slipped onto his lips as he remembered the day three years ago when Patton rushed up to him before blurting out his idea for a bookstore coffee house. Virgil had never seen his best friend so excited about anything in his life, which was saying a lot considering Patton’s default setting was excited.

It had taken a lot of work and Virgil had put a lot of money into the place—an investment, he had told Patton when the other tried to refuse—but the struggle had paid off in the end. The Bumble Bean had quickly become one of the hot spots in town, especially for students at the local university and high schools. Virgil was proud of his friend and never missed a chance to tell him, either.

The gentle, light sound of the bell on the door sounded and Virgil idly glanced in that direction.

Oh. My. God.

A man who looked not much older than Virgil--but dressed in way nicer clothes than Virgil had ever owned--stepped inside and looked around before heading toward the counter. Virgil watched him as he made his way across the café, his eyes taking in the man's face as his own heated up considerably.

Gay panic is real.

Virgil quickly looked away, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Unfortunately, due to his preoccupied brain, he had forgotten that coffee was generally very hot, and burned his tongue.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, tongue now numb and raw. Setting the cup down, Virgil glanced at the man from the corner of his eye.

I’m gay. I am so fucking gay.

Virgil watched as the man stepped up to the counter after the last customer finished paying. He found himself wondering what kind of drink the man would order, mentally reminding himself to ask Patton later. Watching Patton help the man, Virgil guessed at what kind of job the man had.

A businessman… then again, those pants are fitted as fuck… lawyer, maybe? Or CEO of some Fortune 500…

Pursing his lips, Virgil shook his head. The man didn’t look like a slimy, two-timing, grubby-handed snake. It was possible he was dressed for a specific event. The suit aside, Virgil would guess a professor, or a scientist even. There was no way he would be able to guess correctly, he decided. No point trying.

Turning his attention to his coffee, Virgil was momentarily distracted by the sound of feedback coming from the front. A stage was set up on the opposite side of the entrance, a young guy around Virgil’s age if not younger moving the stool closer to the microphone already present. There was a guitar in his other hand and a smile slipped onto Virgil’s face.

Virgil Quinn was a college student at the local university but he was also a well-known lyricist. Well, well-known was a little generous considering most people weren’t really interested in lyricists so much as the band or artist themselves. Most lyricists were annoyed by that fact but not Virgil. He liked being famous without actually being famous.

Unlike the bands that sang his songs, Virgil could go where he liked, when he liked, with no concern for his safety or his privacy. Even on the rare occasion, a fan did care about the person who wrote the songs, his work was still appreciated and loved from afar. His pictures weren’t the ones being plastered online, on busses, on television ads, and so on. He had more Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube followers than the average person and he was relatively “known”, but definitely not enough that it made much difference to his daily life.

That was exactly how Virgil preferred it.

“Do you mind?”

Virgil’s attention had been successfully distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone come up.

“Mind?” Virgil’s indifferent attitude quickly turned shy and awkward as he turned to look at the person who asked the question. The gorgeous Mr. Maybe-A-Scientist.

“I’d like to claim that chair over there but I’ll need to get past you to get there. If you don’t mind.”

Virgil seized up before mentally reminding himself that this was just another guy. Another human being. He could play it cool.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush.

Virgil glanced at the chair before looking back up at the man. He cleared his throat and stood up.

In the brief few seconds that past between them as Virgil stood so he could shift out of the man’s way, Virgil became certain of a handful of things.

First, the man with his dark gray, nearly black eyes could not be a CEO or lawyer. While his eyes held a certain level of cold, there was far too much feeling in them. Too much depth. Second, the man was at least a head shorter than him but there was no way Virgil would have known if he hadn’t stood up. The confidence the man held about him was absolutely admirable. Virgil would have been worried the man was arrogant or, worse, a narcissist but he seemed far too polite and formal. Instead of self-importance, it was an air of near indifference that radiated from him.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. No sweat.”

Virgil could have mentally kicked himself. No sweat? Seriously? This man was obviously a man that existed off of intellectual knowledge and discourse. The best he could come up with was no sweat?

Virgil watched the other’s face, certain to see some sort of sign of dismissal but it never came. Instead, the man raised a brow and a second later, his lips quirked upwards. It was slight. So slight that Virgil wasn’t even certain he truly saw it. That was until the man spoke again.

“I still need to get by you, I’m afraid.”

Was that amusement Virgil heard laced ever so subtly throughout the carefully chosen words? Virgil glanced at where he stood and swore under his breath. He was an absolute idiot. One thing was certain, however, as Virgil finally moved out of the other’s way. There was a definite spark of amusement in the man’s eyes and voice when he glanced back to thank him, before moving on to the armchair just on the other side of the coffee table.

Virgil blushed, quickly sitting once more and trying his best to melt into the couch. Not possible, of course, but he had to give himself props for trying. Deciding he had done enough damage to their interaction, Virgil turned his attention back to the stage where the young man with the guitar was now engaging the patrons sat around the stage.

As the singer started playing and fading into his song, Virgil almost forgot about Mr. Sexy Scientist. No, who was he kidding. There was no way he could actually forget about him. Not with him being so damn attractive. Not with him being so damn close. But, his focus was preoccupied just enough to take his mind off the man, if only for the moment.

That was, until a sound escaped the man, pulling Virgil’s attention back to him once more. Why is he so good looking? Life hated him. That was all there was to it. Putting such a gorgeous, put together man at arms reach only for Virgil to not have any chance in hell with him. The sound that left the man, however, had Virgil’s curiosity piqued. It was definitely a scoff that he had heard come from the well dressed man.

“Not a fan of this kind of music?” Virgil asked, before he could think better of it. He took note that the other had pulled out a book and was presumably reading it. He didn’t even look up at Virgil when answered his question.

“Not a fan of music, actually.”

Virgil raised a brow. There was no way he had heard correctly. “Sorry, what now?”

The man looked up this time, a wry sort of expression on his face. It was the look of someone who had had this conversation on more than one occasion and didn’t find it any more enjoyable than he had the first time. Virgil felt bad, but only a little. He was more curious and so offered an apologetic shrug, but continued to look at the man expectantly.

The man sighed, marking the page he had been reading with a finger and set the book in his lap. His eyes found Virgil’s and it was all he could do to not look away. Swallowing hard, Virgil waited to hear what the man was about to say.

“I’m just not a fan of any type of music. It’s just… not my thing. I guess, classical counts as music and I do enjoy that when I am writing but in the general view of what is music these days, I really can’t say any of it has my appreciation.”

Virgil frowned. How sad to not like any music. The man looked ready to return to his book but Virgil found himself not wanting the conversation to end just yet. Grasping for something to talk about, he took note of what the man had said.

“Writing?”

The man nodded. He continued to watch Virgil but was obviously not about to offer any further information without being prompted.

Just my luck. The most gorgeous man walks into my life and unwittingly challenges all my anxieties.

“What do you write?”

Maybe he was an author?

“I’m a poet.” Suddenly a hand was offered to him from across the coffee table. Virgil took it at the last minute, shaking it and trying hard not to focus on the fact that they were technically holding hands. Too soon, the man pulled his hand back. “Logan Wright. I don’t expect you’ve heard of me but you’ve most likely come across a few of my poems. They’ve been used in various media.”

Virgil could only nod, unsure of what to say. A poet! Not only that but a poet who doesn't like music. As a lyricist, Virgil was of the belief that lyrics were poetry put to notes in order to make a song—to make music.

The man went back to his book and Virgil watched him for a few moments before letting his attention return to the performer. The guy was not the best singer ever but played the guitar like a boss. Still, Virgil could hear the potential and knew well that this man could have a musical career hands down as long as he kept at it. The biggest draw to a singer like this one was that the words could be felt with his voice. That was a quality that so many singers didn’t have but the very quality that proved Virgil’s belief.

He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew well that the likelihood of him ever seeing this man—Logan—again was slim to none. Yet, he couldn’t keep his attention from returning to the man. Every few glances, he would see the other wince or grimace. Virgil wanted to feel offended on the singer’s behalf but instead, he just felt pity for Logan.

The time soon came when Logan stood and asked by him once again. This time Virgil was quick to stand and smiled shyly.

“Hope you have a good day.”

Wow, could I be any more lame?

The man smiled, however, and nodded. “Likewise.”

Virgil then watched him as he headed out of the shop and back into the world.

A few seconds passed, Virgil wishing he had asked for his number or something. Not only that, but the knowledge that the man was missing out on something that was inspiration for millions of people… that just didn’t sit right with him. If only he could spend a few days with Logan�� show him what he was missing out on. Prove to him that not all music was bad and so much of it told a story.

Fuck.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil rushed through the shop and out the door. He glanced in the direction the man had gone, his eyes falling on his retreating back.

“Logan!” he called out. The man stopped and turned, tilting his head in a cute manner. Virgil didn’t focus on that, instead starting toward him as the man started back, distance closing between them.

“Can I help you?”

Virgil blushed, suddenly unsure of himself. Was what he was about to propose stupid? Whatever. He would never know until he tried.

“Give me a week.”

Logan snorted. “I’m sorry, give you what?”

Virgil blushed and rushed on. “I mean… in there. What you said about music? Give me a week to prove you wrong.”

Logan blinked and slowly smirked. “And what makes you think I’ll even be here a week?”

That stopped Virgil in his tracks. It never even occurred to him that the man was out of town. He felt himself frowning and was about to apologize when the man spoke up again.

“I mean, I will be, as it turns out, but it is intriguing for you to just assume so. Still, your proposal has me curious. I don’t know exactly how you plan to change my mind, but I do like experiments as much as the next scholar. I do have somewhere to be at the present, but if you give me your number, I will text you.”

In the next moments, Virgil gave Logan his number and watched as he walked away. He had no idea how he had managed it, but now that was the least of his worries.

Virgil now had just under seven days to change the mind of a very hot, intelligent, and opinionated poet.

To say he had his work cut out for him was definitely an understatement.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Snake Charmer

Summary: Prompt fill for @paperghastly from Random Dialogue prompts.

Prompt: "You've made yourself essential to me, and now you think leaving me won't change me in any way?"

Ship: Romantic Roceit

Rating & Warnings: PG. Some light angst & hurt comfort.

A03: Link

“How dare you!”

Ethan’s hand jerked from the doorknob as if he had been burned. For a moment, he was in shock. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings back.

That was right. After months of living with Roman Prince, a fellow actor who had given him a couch to sleep on when he had nowhere else to go, Ethan was leaving. But it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a reason. In fact, it was a very good reason.

Roman just didn’t realize.

“I’m sorry?”

Ethan finally turned around, his hand still clutching his stuffed gym bag that contained all the possessions he owned in the world.

Roman glared at him and Ethan was surprised he didn’t have welts to show how much that gaze burned. A second later, however, the fire left his gaze and a sigh escaped him.

“You heard me, Ethan. Just—after everything… why?”

This was the exact reason Ethan had been trying to hurry out the door. That question. It was a loaded question, for one. For another… answering it would mean accepting the truth about the very things he’d lied to himself about. The biggest thing: his feelings for the man standing directly across the room from him.

Ethan looked down at the floor.

“I’m… I’m not good for you, Ro. You should have someone great like… like Logan. He likes you, you know—”

“Do not change the subject, Ethan Truman, or so help me—”

Ethan pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t know what was on the other side of that threat and he was pretty sure Roman didn’t either, but he didn’t really want to find out. He knew Roman wouldn’t ever hurt him, so it didn’t matter.

“I’m a liar. I cheat. I… I’ve used people in the past, Roman. I’m not a good… I’ve never been a good person. And… the way I feel about you doesn’t change the things I’ve done to others… the things I’ve done to you!”

Silence.

At first, Ethan was positive he had effectively proven his point to Roman but the look in those eyes was not shock or disbelief or hurt. If he had to put his money on it, Ethan was sure that look was one of resignation. And that could only mean one thing.

“You… you knew?”

Roman sighed and lifted a hand to his hair, sliding his fingers through it. For a moment, Ethan had the sudden urge to sweep his own fingers through those locks. He had learned fast that Roman loved to have his hair played with when they would lounge on the couch with a movie on. No hidden agendas. No means to an end. Just the two of them relaxing and spending time with one another.

“Knew that you stole that role from me? That you then lied to cover it up so I wouldn’t know. Maybe to keep me from getting hurt or because you had a guilty conscience or whatever reason? Yeah… I knew. I won’t lie. I was hurt. I was pissed. I was going to kick you out, honestly, but then things changed. I realized that I wasn’t hurt because of the part. I was hurt because I had thought we were friends. So, I gave you another shot. And I’m glad I did because I don’t know what it was, but you changed after that. I’m hoping it was because you realized the error of your ways and maybe, a small part of it was because of me… because of our friendship, because of our....”

He trailed off but Ethan didn’t need him to finish. Roman blushed but cleared his throat. If Ethan blushed as well, he pointedly ignored it. What Roman had to say was far more important.

“Whatever the reason doesn’t matter. Not really. Because you did change, Ethan. And we changed. And you let it happen, just as much as I did because you wanted it. So did I. Damn, did I want it, Ethan. But now… now you suddenly decide that you’re not good enough for me and so you want to take it upon yourself to just up and leave without even giving me a say in the matter?”

“If you knew then you know why—”

“Bullshit.”

Ethan’s words died in his throat. He suddenly found himself rooted to the spot as Roman crossed the space between them. He had never been more aware of the height difference between them until now. Though Roman was a head shorter than him, Ethan shrunk back as if the actor towered over him. He swallowed hard.

“All those things… those were things of the past. I know for a fact they are things of the past. Because I know you now. Sure you hid things and spoke in half-truths and kept secrets when you first moved in. And yeah, you were a conniving and manipulative little shit but in the time from when you spent your first night on that couch to this very moment, you’ve grown as a person. I didn’t matter to you at first but then we became friends and then… a lot more. You want to act cold and like you don’t give a shit about anyone else. I’m sure it kept you safe when you were out living in the streets or that God awful place that had the nerve to call itself a shelter. But that’s all self-preservation.”

Ethan looked down at his feet once more, finding it harder and harder to look Roman in the eye.

“You needed a friend when we met at those auditions. It was a struggle and there were times I wanted to just walk away but then you opened up to me… you came to trust me and so you no longer had any reason to stay hard. And I came to need you in my life just as much as you needed me. And it’s that person… it’s that man… the one I love—”

Ethan’s head shot up.

“Don’t say—”

“Yes, Ethan. The man I love. That’s the one I’m fighting for here.”

His body tensed as Roman reached out but instantly relaxed as it rested against his face. Try as he might, it was impossible to stop himself from leaning into the touch.

“You’ve made yourself essential to me, Ethan Truman… and now you think leaving me won’t change me in any way?”

Ethan slowly released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. His eyes fluttered and he gave a start to feel the moisture on his cheek. Crying?

“You don’t have to save me from the person you were in the past, Ethan. Yeah, he’s still back there, being a sneaky, slimy little snake… but that’s just it, babe. He lives in the past and that’s where he belongs. He doesn’t live in here anymore, my love.”

Ethan looked down to see the spot over his heart where Roman rested his free hand.

“The man standing before me is not that man. He still looks the same and has some of the same traits and habits, but the good ones. That man… he lives here now—” Roman gestured at the space all around them, indicating the apartment but also the present. “—and he also lives here.” Roman took his hand and Ethan allowed him to move it until it rested just over Roman’s heart. “And I’m hoping that Ethan will allow me to live right here as well.” Ethan didn’t need Roman resting his hand back over his own heart to know exactly what he was saying; what it was that Roman was asking.

Unfortunately, the man who had always been known for his silver tongue and his witty comebacks was at a loss for any words at all.

So Ethan decided to show Roman his answer.

Dropping his bag to the floor, Ethan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck as he kissed him desperately. Neither knew how long they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms—but it didn’t matter.

When the kiss ended, Ethan had found his voice again.

“I’ve never been one to trust people. I never allowed myself to need anyone but myself. I learned how to play the system to get what I want. I made sure I had the best hand dealt to me and the worst dealt to everyone else at all times. Then we met and you seemed to like me… so I took advantage… or so I thought until you charmed your way into my life and my heart.”

He made a face.

“I sound ridiculous.” He sighed. “But it’s true. One thing you said though wasn’t quite correct.”

Roman frowned.

“I have been lying, Roman. But not to you.”

“Who?”

“I’ve been lying to myself.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I do love you. And… you can live in my heart for as long as you want.”

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders Additional Tags: Meet-Cute, Cute, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluffy makeout, Fluffy Ending, Making Out, Adorable, Adorkable, Cute Ending, demus - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Human, Underdog Arts, Underdog Arts Band AU, Band Fic, Alternate Universe - Rock Band Series: Part 1 of Underdog-arts Band AU

SUMMARY:

Based off underdog-arts Band AU which can be found on their Patreon. Janus and Remus are both broadcasting majors and Remus just wants to maybe mush lips and make out ????

Read on A03

#demus #ts demus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #ts deceit sanders #ts remus sanders #| demus ;;#| demus - romantic ;;#| breathtaking worlds mapped by their words ;;#underdog-arts #underdog-arts bandau #band au #| creator - analogicisms ;;#| mine - fanfiction ;;#analogicisms

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analogicisms · 5 years ago

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The Best-Laid Plans of Snakes and Madmen

Summary: Prompt fill for @romantichopelessly from OTP Prompts

Prompt: “Can we do something romantic, like plan a murder or something?”

Ship: Romantic Dukeceit

Rating & Warnings: PG13-ish. Very mild suggestiveness.

Deceit was pacing back and forth, going over plot after plot, scheme after scheme, idea after idea. It wasn’t that Deceit was only getting bad ideas; they just weren’t particularly him. And when getting under Thomas’s skin, they couldn’t just be good. No, no. Thomas deserved better than that. And as his Deceitful side it was Deceit’s job, no his duty, to give the best he could. 100 percent at all times. No less would do.

Unfortunately, being so lost in thought, Deceit had completely forgotten that he was not alone in his room. So, when muttering of voices interrupted his concentration, Deceit turned and hissed at the intrusion. What he got in return was Remus seated sailor-style on his bed, his arms held up by his knees as his fists propped up his chin.

Deceit sighed, allowing one of his phantom hands to raise up his bowler hat so he could run his long, slender fingers through his thick curls before placing it on his head once more.

“Thank you,” he told the hand, the words drawled. Deceit might be a liar and a schemer but he was a polite one. No one could argue with that.

Glancing at Remus, Deceit found him in the same spot looking very much like a very eager kindergartener at storytime. That was if said kindergarteners had a constantly demented look on their face and a wide maniacal smile that seemed to take over half the dark side’s face. Not to mention Remus’s signature mustache which often seemed to have a mind of its own.

“What?” Deceit asked finally, wariness evident in his voice. He was certain he was going to regret asking but unable to deny the other.

“Ooooh, nothing,” Remus said, somehow able to shimmy even in the position he was in. It was honestly kind of adorable, but Deceit was far too busy to focus on things like that. “Just asked if we can do something romantic!” His eyes sparkled with fun and mischief. “Like plan a murder or something!”

Deceit blinked. He was torn.

On one hand, he would never understand how he put up with Remus. He was the very embodiment of everything Thomas hated, whether about himself or the world, or at least, his view of it. He was stinky and hated baths, but luckily Deceit had been able to talk him into at the very least one bath a week. Definitely better than before which was pretty much never.

On the other hand, he was a very busy side who was doing extremely important work. He had agreed to let Remus stay on the condition that he be quiet and let Deceit work. Apparently, even that had proven too much for the intrusive side.

On another hand—after all, he had many hands; six extra to be exact—Deceit had hit a roadblock on the journey to the best scheme ever and Remus was sitting here looking particularly fetching in his outfit. Were those fresh teeth? Deceit was pretty sure they were.

Moving over to the end of the bed where Remus was perched, reaching out a hand to grip the other dark side’s chin, pulling it upward. “Plan a murder, hmm?”

Remus tried to nod eagerly but it was obviously difficult with Deceit gripping his chin as he was.

Deceit smirked, tilting his head.

“And whose murder, pray tell, would you want to plan?” He asked, elongating the word whose to sound like a hiss.

Remus stared up at him, and for a moment Deceit was positive he saw Roman in them, but it was brief and passed quickly. It made sense. They were twins, after all, and Roman had moments when he channeled Remus too. Not that they could control it. Deceit wished they could. He would never be wanting for sneaky, tricksy, mischievous ideas ever. Luckily for him, Remus was just useful enough when it came to that and far more useful in other ways.

“I don’t know! Anyone’s! Oooh, what about Aunt Patty!”

Deceit snorted, rolling his eyes. He leaned in, so close their noses almost touched.

“Leave the who to me, lover. You just focus on the where and how.”

Deceit then stole a kiss. He had meant it to be brief. After all, he had only gotten into this thing with Remus so that he could manipulate and control the dark side who reigned over Thomas’s most Intrusive of Thoughts. If it weren’t for him, Remus would never have made himself known to Thomas. Not in a way that mattered, anyway. And if they were going to teach Thomas that it was not very nice at all to treat any side of himself as less important than any other, well. There was an art to delivering a message like that, now wasn’t there?

It didn’t really matter what he had meant though. Because as soon as his lips met Remus’s, the other dark side was there, eagerly kissing him back and chuckling in a way that made his insides flip flop. The sound was low and inviting.

When the kiss ended, Remus smirked up at him.

“Told you that planning a murder would be romantic!” Deceit watched as he shimmied back onto the bed, laying out on the pillows. Deceit hissed lightly but quickly followed after.

“Sssshut up.”

Then he made him do just that.

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