#(He liked hungry & possessive kisses from a SEAL ready to eat him whole ^^)

[scabopolis]

Congrats on 600 followers!!!! How about Logan/Veronica and "Are you doubting my acting skills?" and/or any one of your 76 Danielle/Henry modern AUs?

Oh, Sarah, I’d do anything for you! I will eventually write a Danielle/Henry modern AU and it shall be dedicated to you, but for now, here is some Logan/Veronica friends to lovers inspired fake dating setup shenanigans.

--- Title: look at me like you like me Fandom: Veronica Mars Pairing: Logan/Veronica (side Wallace/Parker) Other Characters: Wallace, Parker, a frequent switching of tenses b/c this is barely edited.  Additional Tags: Should be a multichapter probably, friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, Wallace sees all and knows all Word Count: ~1,800 ---

Sitting at brunch, her plate piled high with pancakes, Veronica Mars wonders just how long her best-friend thought he could get away with this. Logan Echolls (said best-friend) is currently walking slowly back and forth in front of the restaurant as he talks on his phone. He isn’t speaking, which means his mother is in the middle of a persuasive monologue. And everyone at their table knows what that means. 

“Charity gala?” Wallace asks. 

“My money’s on a distant relative’s wedding,” Parker says. 

“His parent’s anniversary is coming up,” Veronica says. “Could be their own party.” 

“What will they celebrate?” Wallace asks. “Ten years of sleeping in separate rooms and ignoring one another’s affairs?” 

“Regardless, I’m ready,” Parker says. 

Okay. Apparently Veronica’s isn’t the only one thinking about Logan’s go-to family event strategy. “You think he’ll ask you?” 

Parker frowns as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Why wouldn’t he?” 

Veronica draws a line in the air, connecting Wallace and Parker. “Well, for one, you’re married now.” 

“The people at these parties don’t know that,” Parker answers. 

The woman has a point. Veronica turns to Wallace. “And you’re okay with this?” 

“We’re living on two teacher’s salaries. If some wealthy man wants to be my wife’s platonic sugar daddy, who am I to stop him?” 

“I wanted to buy a new dress for your brother’s graduation anyway,” Parker says. 

“See! Perfect plan.” Wallace and Parker seal their agreement with a kiss and Veronica focuses on her pancakes. She cuts off a large bite with more force than strictly required and shovels the pancakes into her mouth. 

She isn’t sure why this whole conversation needles her. Something about Parker’s certainty, Veronica supposes. That it is going to be Parker who Logan calls on. To be fair, Parker and Logan’s arrangement pre-dates Veronica’s friendship with either of them. 

By the time Veronica met Parker their first year of grad school, Parker and Logan had been friends for four years. The pattern wherein Parker pretended to be Logan’s girlfriend at any and all society events his mother required him to attend was already well-established. Even after Veronica and Logan met, and it was quickly evident the two of them were destined to be platonic soulmates for the rest of their lives, it was still Parker that Logan turned to for help in these situations. Which, fair. Parker possesses levels of grace which Veronica can never hope to achieve. 

Veronica is much more apt to give a Hollywood director in his fifties judgey facial expressions when he introduces her to his barely legal wife. (A real thing that happened at an Echolls family BBQ. At least it still makes Logan laugh all these years later.)

It just didn’t occur to Veronica that it would always be Parker. Especially now that Parker is married. What is going to happen when she and Wallace decide to have a baby? How will they prevent word of Logan Echolls’ pregnant girlfriend from making the tabloid rounds? 

No. This is ridiculous. 

“She’s definitely not listening,” Wallace says, disapprovingly. 

“Some sort of fugue state?” Parker suggests. 

“Could be.” 

Veronica sighs. “What are you two talking about?”

“I wanted to know if it was all pancakes in general you seek to destroy, or if this one in particular had done something to upset you?” 

Her first instinct is to glare at Wallace. And then at Parker when she sniggers. Introducing the two of them to one another is the worst decision she’s ever made. But then she looks down at her plate. Sure enough, at some point she traded in eating her pancakes for cutting them into smaller pieces and then smushing them into the maple syrup. They no longer resemble an edible object.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sure,” Wallace says, taking a well-timed sip of his coffee. His expression is all smug and knowing. 

Veronica is saved from additional Wallace stares and Parker sniggers by the return of Logan. He slides his phone into his blazer pocket and sits down beside Veronica, resting his arm on the back of Veronica’s chair. This is nothing new. Being best-friends with Logan means being comfortable with his rather tactile nature. But the look Logan’s action invites from Wallace is new. Veronica wants to spit at him. (Wallace. Not Logan.) 

(Portrait of grace, indeed.)

“What happened here?” Logan asks, gesturing to Veronica’s pancakes. 

“Nothing,” Veronica says. “What happened out there?” 

Logan’s fingers still from where he is lightly tracing the contours of her shoulder. “My mom and dad are renewing their vows.” 

For a moment all movement at their table ceases as they each take in this information. This despite Veronica's keen awareness of the fact that her guess was eerily close to being right. 

“I’m sorry. What?” she asks.

“That was about my reaction,” Logan says. “Want my bacon?” 

“Yes, please. They can’t be serious.” 

Logan slides his slices of bacon onto Veronica’s plate. “Serious about drumming up some positive PR, absolutely. Aaron was spotted looking a little too friendly with a married co-star. So, he and mom are going on a romantic getaway to Italy. When they get back they’ll do a backyard vow renewal.” 

“Logan—” 

The man in question holds up a hand, stopping Parker’s softly spoken entreaty. 

“No. I can’t do the talking about it thing right now. I can’t feel anything about it right now. What I need is a wedding date.” 

“Of course,” Parker rushes to answer. “Just tell me when.” 

“The weekend of June 11th.” 

“Absolutely. Deal,” Parker says, nodding enthusiastically. “Consider it—,” she trails off, her gaze somewhere over Veronica’s shoulder. 

“Consider it, what?” Logan asks.

“—Not something I can do.”  

“Why not?”

“That’s graduation weekend,” Parker explains. “I’m the faculty speaker.” 

“I’ll buy you shoes, too.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Logan says. “This way I can get very drunk and not feel bad about it.” 

Logan’s arm returns to the back of Veronica’s chair. This time his hand sort of hangs over her shoulder and curls around towards her clavicle. It makes it impossible to ignore details about Logan’s hands — the surprising delicacy of his fingers, the length of them, the weird knot on one of his knuckles. 

“I’ll do it,” Veronica says. 

“Do what?” Logan asks. 

“Be your fake girlfriend for the sham vow renewal. I can do it.” 

She refuses to look at anyone at the table. Not Parker. Sure as hell not Wallace.

(Seriously. Does he know something? Was it that night they all played King’s Cup and the two of them stayed up talking until 3:00 AM? Did she say something she wasn’t supposed to?)

And absolutely not Logan. She scrapes the edges of the smushed pancake with the tines of her fork. 

“Veronica.” Logan’s voice is soft, but she detects a hint of incredulity. Which, maybe she’s wrong and he isn’t her best-friend and he doesn’t know her very well, because it raises her hackles. 

She drops her fork. “What? Why not?” 

“Look, I love you. You know I love you.” Veronica ignores the little skitter of her pulse at Logan’s words, furrows her brow, and concentrates on being offended. “And you know me better than anyone.”

“But?” She prompts. 

“But,” he says, “you don’t really—” 

Before Logan can finish, she comes up with a dozen ways to complete the sentence. There is plenty she doesn’t have —the class, the patience, the height, the sweetness, the glamor, the—

“—look at me like you like me,” Logan finishes. 

“Wait. What?” Veronica’s eyes dart from Logan to Wallace to Parker. Neither one of them appear surprised by Logan’s words. In fact, Parker is faintly nodding in agreement. “Of course I like you. You’re my favorite person.” She thinks about this. “When you’re not being a total asshole.” 

“I know that. But, your face makes it look like you want to slap me most of the time.” 

“Because I do.” 

“It’s just not the most conducive to convincing my mother to not set me up with the daughter of whichever producer she is trying to impress.” 

“I’ll change my face.” 

“Change it?” 

“I can look like I like you.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve been in love before, you know.” Veronica’s hackles are now standing at full attention. “Are you doubting my acting skills?”

“I would never,” Logan says. 

“Good. Because I could be the sweetest goddamned fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.” Veronica turns to Parker. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“I’ll even use pet names. Schmoopsie. Snuggle muffin. Sweet cheeks. What’s your preference?” 

“My preference is none of them.” 

Still, despite his words, Logan seems to consider it. Veronica takes the time to nibble on one of the slices of bacon from Logan’s plate. If she isn’t mistaken, Parker and Wallace kept shooting each other, what they probably believe to be, covert glances. What are those glances supposed to mean? Does Parker know something too? Damned married couples with their telling each other things. 

“My mom does love you,” Logan eventually says. 

“See, I already have a leg up,” Veronica says. “And I can absolutely rock a floor length gown.” 

“Can you?” 

“I was on homecoming court senior year.” 

“You were?” She’s not certain which of the voices speaking in unison sound more shocked, Logan’s or Parker’s, but regardless she is deeply offended. She’ll look classy and hot as hell and that will show them. 

“Yeah,” Wallace says, “Keith still has the picture hanging up in his house. It’s hilarious.” Veronica glares at him. “Hilarious, because of how great you look. Obviously.” 

“I don’t want to make you do this,” Logan says.

Veronica doesn’t have time to question why he would make Parker do this but for some reason wants to spare her.  

“Hey.” She reaches up for the hand still draped over her shoulder and laces their fingers together. Logan looks down at her. His eyes are all soft and heavy lidded; like they sometimes get when he’s sleepy. 

(She’s also noticed they can kind of look like that when she’s ranting about a coworker. Or, that one time she helped her dad install a fence and came over to Logan’s place after. Her hands were full of splinters and Logan was so careful and gentle, removing each one with a very expensive pair of tweezers.)

“This is going to suck. Isn’t it?” she asks. 

He nods. “Yeah. I think it will.” 

“Then let me be there for you.” He doesn’t say anything. “I’ll work on my face. Promise.” 

That gets him to crack a smile. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Then great.”

“Great.”

“Did I just get replaced?” Parker asks. 

Veronica shrugs. “I like nice shoes too, you know.” 

Logan gives her hand a squeeze. 

Oh. Look at that. She didn’t even notice they were still holding hands.

[royaliravenblade]

Technician: Life Beyond the Fence.

Less than two years ago…

           “Psst—Roy!”

               The young mechanic perked his head up at the mention of his name, his gaze shifting to a bush behind him. There hiding in the shrubbery was Aelin Ashryver, “This meeting is a snooze fest, let’s go to the falls?” Royali looked back at the Nightguard meeting, seeing most of the senior members too invested in it to notice the two slipping away. Slowly stepping away, Roy took Aelin’s hands in his own and bolted out of the hidden grove in the Duskwood forest. The two chatted among each other as the casually walked the dirt path to a small body of water that had a decent sized waterfall feeding into it. From the corner of his good eye, Royali could see Aelin stripping off her armor—right down to her panties and breast binder, “Oh sweet tea! At least give me a warning!”

Aelin laughed seeing Royali shade his view from her and she hops into the water, popping up from the surface to call out an all clear.  Royali finally peeks out only to be splashed, “H-hey!”

               “I was just having fun…” Aelin swims up to the shore, laying on her belly. She propped her head up on her hands and quietly calls out to Roy as he sat down, “Hey Roy?”

               “Hm?”

               “I’ve told you plenty of things about myself since we have met…you never really told me about yourself. I mean you don’t have to but…can you tell me about your past? I mean…I’m pretty sure everyone wishes to know the story behind the loss of your arm and eye.”

               The mechanic straightens up and looks down to his mechanical arm. Pulling out his micro adjuster and arclight spanner, beginning to tweak his arm as he thought. “It’s nothing special…I can’t say I had the happiest childhood.” His good eye looks down to the female, scratching his head with the micro adjuster, “I mean…if you want…” Royali peers up about the thick forest canopy, barely spotting the moon peeking from it.

Ten years before…

          Royali remembered Westfall clear as day in his mind: The tall grass, wide open fields with many farms planted about its lands, as well as the smell of wheat, the ocean, and fertilizer. Though the last of the smells didn’t make it so pleasant the other two, as well as the people that lived there, made it worthwhile. The farmers would always band together to help each other out when needed, and give friendly advice to those who were experiencing problems. There were even times when everyone would come together in sentinel hill to celebrate holidays together or just have a meal together.

Royali had never been a part of that tight-knit feeling of the farmer community. Though a short walking distance from the neighbors, Roy was isolated from the experiences because of his own family. Or at least what he was told was family.  He looked out his room’s window to see his mother working in the fields. A twenty-seven-year-old woman, working as hard as cattle to keep food on the table and her family healthy. Her light blonde curls pulled back in a ponytail—some strands loose and plastered to the skin of her forehead because of the sweat. Coming from the distance to greet her was a group of men all dress in a leather clad, surrounding her. The poor woman looking small and stress between the circle of troublemakers. Roy did nothing about it, neither did she. All because it wasn’t their place…it was his.

               Roy’s bedroom door burst open, letting a small cloud of dust rain down before the figure that stood there at the threshold, “Royali. Get outside and work in the barn.” The young boy stared at him. His father, Markas, stood tall, sporting his own leather set nearly identical to the hooligans outside. His raven hair parted down the middle, hanging off the side in soft waves. His gaze murderous and cold rather than looking fatherly to his own child, “Roy!” The boy flinched to attention, answering with a crack in his voice, “Yessir.” Like a pup with his tail between his legs, Royali scurries past his father, hurrying down the stairs. Once outside, the group of men averts their hungry gazes at Selene.

     “Oi, boy would ya look at that! The boy came down to save ‘is mommy!” One called out. All bursting into laughter. Roy dips his head down and walked to the barn picking the rake up off the tool rack—there wasn’t much he could do. Brooding over hard work made the tasks much more taxing. The way he handled the tools with his anger made his knuckles white and hands stiff from the pressure, didn’t help with the callouses on his palms or the splitters that wedge into his hands from the old wood from the handles.

               Exhausting work such as this and helping his mother happened almost daily. Mostly when his father and small band raid the house of the alcohol and hang around talking about what Selene described as adult business. As Roy got older the more he understood the true meaning behind adult business. Drug dealing and trafficking, blackmailing, and heists; you name it, Markas devises and executes plans for his so-called Lupine Pack. For as long as Royali could understand it, Markas had been behind many tragedies and masterfully keeping them indiscreet. The drug cartel lead by him was what was keep the farm afloat, as well as keeping his pack members loyal with fat coin pouches. With all the money that was being made from it, Roy wondered why the farm needed constant care that only he and his mother took care of.

               Even when he knows so much, Roy understands so little that he could not act on his own. How could he? Both he and his mother were so far into it, the moment they try to break off Markas would have them eliminated like all of their drug runners that didn’t come through. Just the mere thought of challenging the Alpha made Roy’s stomach lurch.

    With work finished in the barn, Royali stepped out to get some fresh air, leaning against the fence of the property. He wipes his brow of the sweat and looked to the neighboring farm, catching an eye of the family. The family was much like his: A mother, father, and a son. Unlike Roy’s, the mother was at ease with simple housework—still getting things done to keep the farm going but not slaving away like Selene. The father out in the fields actually caring for the farm he built than inside drinking and scheming much like Markas. Seeing the son last made Royali clench his trousers in yearning. The kid working beside his father, helping with the crops only to be interrupted by the slobbery love of a family dog. The family rejoiced in laughter as the son was knocked over by the dog. The father looked over to Royali, seeing him staring at them—he even gave a small friendly wave to see if Royali was still paying attention. The young male’s cheeks flush and he waves back to the father, only to see the father go white and quickly look away to guide his family inside. Royali flinched thinking he didn’t something wrong until he was forced to turn around by a gripping hand.

               “What the hell you doing?” Markas growled shoving Royali to the ground. Roy hissed at the stinging scrapes he got from the course dirt below them. “I...I…” Before Royali could say anything, Markas lift him up by the arm. “Nothing! That is what…” Smack! Roy’s head snapped to the side receiving a back hand that added brutality with the metal plate guarding the hand. Stunned, the boy fell silent not wanting to try to give his excuse of not working in fear of getting hit again.

               “If farm work is too boring for you then maybe we should try something else.” Markas tosses Royali’s arm in the direction of the house—roughly herding them there. “Get inside, dinner is ready.”

               After washing up, Royali heads downstairs hearing Selene talking in a harsh whispering tone to whom Roy guessed was Markas, “Don’t pull him away from the Farm work…him learning to care for the place is far more important than to poison his innocence further with what you do with your...your…” Markas loomed over Roy’s mother, his dark eyes asserting the dominance of the conversation, “let us not forget I’m the head of the family. If I say I want –my- son to participate in what I want…It will happen. Now enough of the protest…and come eat dinner, love.” The Alpha sealed the conversation with a lustful kiss to Selene’s neck—his hands possessively follow her curvature. When the time was appropriate, Royali walks up then back down the stairs as if playing that he wasn’t there listening to the whole time. Markas had taken his seat at the end of the dining table with his elbows resting on the surface. His chin held up by his thumbs, fingers folded together as he watched his son approach the scene. Below him, laying on the floor, was a black wolf with a heavily scarred muzzle. Diago was the name Markas gave him.

               “Sit.” The command firm as if telling a dog a command and that he expected to be listened to.

               Roy’s icy gaze shifted to his mother, who seemed to plead silently for him to sit. He slowly lowered into a chair beside Markas, bowing his head respectively. The sense of awkwardness weighed heavily in the dimly lit dining area, but Markas didn’t seem to take note of it. He seemed rather calm and sure of himself as he ate away at his meal. Roy couldn’t stomach down any of the food, partially after the smackdown he got earlier that still stung and started to color his cheek—but, mostly for knowing the conversation that his mother and Markas had earlier.

               “Royali…”

               Roy nearly jumped out of his seat, “Yes, sir?”

               “Why were you in the fields doing absolutely nothing?”

               “I was watching the neighbors. They were all outside.” Royali did his best to look Markas in the eye, but his hard stare was intimidating. The Alpha leans back in his chair, grabbing his mug of ale to drink down. Roy couldn’t understand the wrong in wanting to watch the neighbors, it gave him a little peace seeing something so blissful…so different…right next door. “What was so important to look at that it had to distract you from your work?” The tone of his father’s voice managed to drop a level in harshness, growling for Roy to be more specific in his answers.

               “I saw them outside working together and playing with their dog…It kind of made me want a dog.”

               “You have a dog and it is sitting right by me.”

               Diago growls in response to his master. It wasn’t exactly what Royali had in mind for a pet. He has seen the things his father puts wolves like Diago through—that isn’t what Royali wanted for his own companion. He wanting something just like the boy next door had, a furry friend. “He is not really mine…I just…”

               Markas slams his mug down on the table, making the whole set shake and startle Selene. “Enough with this foolish talk about getting a pet for you, the real reason why we are gathered here is for you to learn your place in the pack. Most of the members’ younglings had already made their mark in it and it is about time you grow up and stop wasting your time in peasant work.” Selene dipped her head and began cleaning the table, realizing there is no point in her being here other than to be mocked as a peasant.

               Markas goes off on a rant about how the business he is running has been expanding but the fact they can manufacture the goods fast enough to meet demands have been leaving him with risks of being exposed. As much as Royali thought it was a good idea to let them fall that way, his father would put the blame all on him and kill him if he had the chance. As his mother always told him since he was a kid: ‘Best to play along…’ “One of the pack members managed to get us some names of apothecaries they ran into…their business has been hurting for customers and are soon about to be shut down if income doesn’t start flowing in. That’s where we come in.” He strokes the nest tuft of hair on his chin, letting a devious smile crawl about his features.

“Go upstairs and pack lightly. We are going on a trip to a flower shop.”