#afterwards. as soon as belle called him out on his bad temper he never tried any other shit ever again

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

People who say that Beauty and the Beast (1991) endorses Stockholm Syndrome and domestic abuse have very grossly missed the entire point of the story.

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Finally, Chapter 5 is here! It’s been so long lol. I know I said it would be out last Monday, but finals week and the new semester were crazy and I kept forgetting to queue it up! This chapter does deal with some more serious topics, so please be mindful of that (more info in the warnings down below). Anyway, here it is! I hope you all like it! (Also I think I’ll be posting chapters once every other Monday, so hopefully I’ll remember to stick to that!)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Bullying; homophobia and homophobic slurs; description/scene of a panic attack; and swearing. (If there’s anything else, let me know!)

Word Count: 1678 words

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CHAPTER FIVE

Virgil expected it to be a normal day. 

There were no signs that it was going to be important, so why would he think that it would be anything other than ordinary? Ever since Roman had joined them at the cafe, things had been going on as normal except for how he and Roman were actually talking now and then. And even that he’d gotten used to.

The day before, Roman and Patton had come to the cafe again, and Virgil was actually glad they did. Patton was still a ray of sunshine, but Roman seemed to be getting better. Or maybe he had been better all along, and Virgil was just now realizing it. Either way, things were changing, but not much and not necessarily in a bad way.

Yes, things were going good in Virgil’s world. 

That morning, Virgil got up at 6:45, right on time, and dressed in black jeans, a Panic! shirt, and his favorite sweatshirt. While checking his phone, he walked downstairs for breakfast. He ate his cereal and then went back upstairs to brush his teeth and finish getting ready. After making sure he had everything he needed for the day, he headed out, his mom’s voice telling him to have a good day from somewhere in the house. He drove to school without incident, although his usual parking spot was taken, so he had to park a few spots farther away. Logan was standing by his locker when he got to school, like usual. Just like every other day, they walked to class together, and afterwards, parted their separate ways: Logan to chemistry and Virgil to art. 

Things went according to the norm, following the routine that Virgil knew well. Life could’ve been a little more interesting, but then again, he didn’t find it entirely unpleasant. Even when Tommy and Timmy Wallace started making fun of him, it wasn’t that out of the blue. They had taken Roman’s place as the local asshole when he stopped being a bully at the beginning of high school and were set on making Virgil’s life hell.

Virgil’s standing at his locker, digging through his stuff, looking for a folder when Tommy sneers, “Oh, look, Timmy! It’s the emo cock-sucker.” Behind him, he hears Timmy laugh. Heaving a sigh, Virgil turns around, slamming his locker shut, only to find the twins almost nose-to-nose with him. Well, they would’ve been if Virgil wasn’t a whole head shorter than them.  

Glaring at them, Virgil says, “Get out of my way.” He’s carefully controlling his anger, making sure that he doesn’t explode. That would do no good.

“Aww, is poor baby Viwgil getting angwy?” Timmy mocks in a baby voice. He jabs his twin in the side, laughing. Tommy jabs him back. Unconsciously, Virgil’s hands ball into fists. You can’t get angry. You gotta relax. C’mon, Virgil. He grits his teeth, but because he was frustrated at himself, not angry at the twins.

Unfortunately, Timmy notices the actions and points it out. 

“Ahah! Are you gonna fight us, Virgil? Think you can win? Huh?” Timmy is up in Virgil’s face, so close, Virgil can see his spit flying everywhere when he talks.

Ignoring them, Virgil pushes past and starts walking down the hall. I can’t win. It’s a shot at his pride to walk away, but there’s no way he can beat the two star football players in a fight. I just have to ignore it. Virgil’s had a lot of experience being made fun of, but it never gets easier to face. It just gets easier to ignore.

“Hey!” A hand grabs Virgil by the elbow. It whirls him around so he can see the twins’ smirking faces. “Where you going, faggot? Thought you wanted a fight. Huh?” Heart racing, breath quickening, Virgil feels the panic building in him. Keep it under control. 

“Leave me alone,” he tries to say. Nothing comes out. Virgil can’t tell his body to move. Or walk away. Or do anything. The things running through his brain are going too fast. There, then gone. No, is the only thought that sticks.

Virgil sees their mouths moving, but can’t hear what they’re saying. Everything else is too loud. The pounding of his heart. His breaths, coming much too fast. Students talking, yelling. Lockers slamming. No. No. No, no, no no no nononononono. Why can’t the world just slow down. People bump into him. Every time, he flinches, drawing inward. Just have to make myself smaller. Timmy and Tommy are still talking. Virgil still can’t hear them. 

“Timmy! Stop!” a voice calls. This, Virgil hears. A hand reaches out to turn the boys away from Virgil. The only thing visible is wavy brown hair and tan skin. The twin’s shoulders block out everything else. He doesn’t know who it is. Doesn’t care who it is.

In four, he thinks, breathing in deeply. Hold 6. Out 7. He lets the air out in a cascade. Before he can begin hyperventilating again, he repeats the exercise. The noise of the hallway is too loud. His breathing won’t slow down. Come on, Virgil! Goddammit! Get it under control! 

The twins are still wrapped up in their conversation with Roman Princeford. He must’ve been the voice. But Virgil doesn’t have time to wonder why Roman stood up for him. Not while tears are flooding his eyes. Not while he’s fighting them back. Not while the din of the hallway is crashing around him. Not now. 

Virgil hurries out of the main part of the hallway and stands by the door to a janitor’s closet. The walls turn, forming an indent around where the door is, and feels almost like a shield. Trembling hands pull his headphones from his bag and slide them on his head. Tears blur his vision and his fingers shake as he fumbles for the video he’s trying to find. 

Finally, he finds it. The soothing sound of pouring rain fills his head. Soft piano drifts in the background. Dropping his phone on the ground and closing his eyes, Virgil pictures the rain streaking down a window. Slow and soothing and familiar. In 4, hold 6, out 7. Little by little, he starts to calm down, heartbeat returning to its normal pace, breaths slowing until the dizziness goes away.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he sat on the floor, but there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder. When he opens his eyes, Roman looks concerned. Pulling his headphones around his neck, Virgil begins to stand. 

“Are you o—Are you doing better?” Roman asks, looking almost awkward. Even though Roman helped him, Virgil almost scoffs. Of course I'm not okay, dumbass. He does have to give him credit for switching his words, though. And some part of Virgil doesn’t blame Roman for being so awkward. It’s a strange situation to be in. One Virgil wants to get out of. And fast. 

“I’m fine. I need to get to class,” he responds, voice tense and snippy. The bell hasn’t rung yet, but it will soon, and Mrs. Bartleman’s classroom is far away from Virgil’s locker. He slings his bag over his shoulder and leans down to grab his folder. 

Papers spill out over the ground, and Virgil realizes, too late, that he grabbed the folder on the bottom. Dropping to his knees to pick it up, he grits his teeth in frustration. A groan slips from his throat.

“What are you doing?” he snaps at Roman, who’d bent down to help. 

“Picking your things up,” Roman replies, looking at Virgil, seeming puzzled. Refusing to look at him, Virgil reaches out to grab more paper. He is sorry for being so rude to Roman just now, but his annoyance at Roman constantly trying to be the knight in shining armor combined with his embarrassment at what happened earlier doesn’t help his temper.

“The bell is going to ring soon. You’re going to be late for class.”

Roman must realize that Virgil’s trying to get him to leave because he stands up, leaving his stack of papers on the ground.

“Right. I should be going.” There’s something almost like hurt in Roman’s voice. Virgil looks up on instinct. Roman’s face is crestfallen, mouth turned downward, eyes sad. Guilt pangs through Virgil’s chest yet again when he sees. He almost takes his words back, but Roman turns away before he can. The metallic sound of the bell echoes throughout the hallway. 

“Fuck,” Virgil mumbles, reaching out to finish picking up.

Once the rest of the papers are back in his folder, Virgil stands up. He stares at Roman’s back, far down the hallway, distance increasing the longer he waits. The regret and guilt swirl into a knot in his stomach. Biting his lip, he takes a chance.

“Roman!” he yells, jogging down the hall. Roman turns around, and Virgil stops, even though there’s still a few feet between them. “Why did you stand up for me?” He steels himself for the worst. What if he blows you off? What if he says that he only did it to draw more attention to you? He takes the small amount of anger he still has left and directs it at the doubt. The thoughts, thankfully, shut up.

Roman scratches the back of his head and says, “It’s kind of a long story…” He looks up at a clock on the wall, frowning. After a second, his face lights up. “You have A lunch, right?” Virgil nods. “I’ll tell you then. My class is switching so we don’t have to go to lunch right in the middle of our test.” 

“O-okay,” Virgil stutters out, still wondering if he’s going to regret this. He’s still unsure if Roman actually means well, or if it’s just a long ploy that will end in Virgil being hurt. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask why he stood up for me. 

And the crooked smile Roman gives Virgil right before turning and jogging away to class makes the risk almost worth it.

[shootingsun]

There was a prompt knock at the door of Félix's guest room in the manor. Kali disappeared almost instantly to hide from the person about to enter the room. "Come in!" He called for the person at his door. Nathalie entered the room and looked around, seemingly searching for… something.

She's looking for me. Kali whispered into his ear.

"Your uncle desires to see you in his study soon." She deadpanned. Félix liked Nathalie, she was a decent person - although he still believed she was an idiot for putting up with Public Enemy Number 1, Gabriel Agreste.

As much as he despised his presence, there was something about the whole, "I tricked you into shaking my hand so I could steal these really cool rings that ended up being magical jewellery!" thing that was supposed to be just a fun little way to mess with him - it wasn't supposed to cause any more harm to their already unstable relationship.

That is, until now.

"Greetings, Félix." Said the designer, putting his arms behind his back. Because, being related is no exception to being professional at all times.

"Hello Uncle, you wanted to see me?" 

"There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you for quite some time now. I assume you must already know what that is, correct?"

Ohshitohshitohshit! Quick, play dumb!

"I'm afraid not Uncle, I would be delighted if you were to enlighten me." He lied, internally screaming.

"Hmm. Well then, I'm sure you recall your visit a while back. Your mother has so kindly asked me to hand over the rings that seemed to belong to her family. Does that ring a bell?" He smirked. 

That absolute bastard. Nobody talked about Félix's Mother in a passive aggressive manner!

Except for you, Kali reminded him. 

"Yes Uncle, I do seem to remember that." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"A couple hours after you left, I couldn't find the ring anywhere in the mansion. I'm not accusing you of thievery, really - I just want to clear matters up."

"But Uncle, I seem to recall you having a ring on when Mother and I came to stay because of her production." He had, of course, stolen that ring too. He was petty like that, and they were his after all.

"True indeed. Coincidentally I lost that one too afterwards, which brings me to this point - may I check your hand to make sure of something?"

Ha, jokes on him, they weren't on his hand, he was smarter than that, they were hidden in a custom made pocket in his jacket, and that would be incredibly invasive for him to pull Felix's jacket off and search it without consent wouldn't it? 

As expected, Gabriel didn't find anything. Then again, he's the same person who's been keeping tabs on two literal minors and still didn't succeed at stealing jewellery from them. Whatever Félix did was probably karma for all that. Either way, the topic at hand was another set of rings. And had he thrown a temper tantrum, it would've made him look especially bad in front of his mother. Oh, and his own kid too but, whatever, right? 

"This is a one time offer, Félix. Hand over the rings, or I may take them myself. I have my very own ways to do so." He scoffed. "My patience has a limit."

And suddenly, Félix felt fear.

Fear that didn't come from him, it that came from…

Kali?

no, No, No… No, NO, NO!! Not AGAIN. I DON'T WANNA LEAVE! HE CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE!

Kali, calm down!

Her emotions were like a flood, there was fear, then sadness, then anger and fear again. She had to calm herself down before they had a panic attack. How to get out of this situation…? He couldn't think straight, his breathing was sharp and shallow, mimicking his Kwami's.

Oh God..  this wasn't gonna end well was it? 

This was it…

"Gabriel? I've been looking all over for you!" His Mother flounced into the room, thank god. He decided then and there that he would never make another sarcastic comment about her again.

"What is it this time?" He asked, slightly irritated.

"Gabriel, you know you always have a 2 o'clock meeting! Nathalie wanted to remind you, but the poor woman's having another dizzy spell and so I insisted I would come and get you instead!" She beamed passive aggressively, an art of which Amelie Graham de Vanily was well versed in. 

It was moments like this that made Gabriel want to punch his in-laws - and it was moments like this that reminded Félix how much he absolutely loved his mother. She was always there, just on time. 

Thank goodness for that. 

His Uncle looked down. Then he glared at his nephew, and he sighed. "Thanks for the reminder, I'll be going soon." Is what he said, but what he really meant was, "This isn't over yet!" And Félix knew.

He stumbled out of the study, breathing wildly, attempting to block out his Kwamis pained screams. He slammed the door to the guest room closed and slumped into a chair.

Kali it's okay! 

NO IT'S NOT! HE WANTS TO HURT US!

MAKE HIM STOP! MAKE HIM STOP! 

Kali we're perfectly safe right now. He tried to reason.

We aren't safe as long as we're in this house! We need to leave! He wants to separate us! 

That can't happen! It can't! It can't!

The thought of forcefully having his Kwami taken from him made Félix want to scream! But he had to remain calm.

Kali, that won't happen, I understand your fear, but you need to take a breath. He went first, showing the breathing exercise he had learnt over time, 5 in, hold for 7, out 8. As her breathing evened out, the Kwami began to lose her invisibility, her form flickered as she slowly calmed herself down.

Do you promise?

Huh?

Promise me that nobody will make me leave you, please?

Her voice and demeanor were unlike the Kali that had developed, it reminded him of when she had first come out of those rings. 

Scared and afraid. And now he knew why.

I promise Kali, nobody will ever keep us apart.

And he truly meant that. Nobody, not even a superhero, could keep them apart for long.

Just a bit after that confrontation, someone came back from his most recent photoshoot. He found his cousin laying on his bed, likely lost in his thoughts. 

He knew Félix was going through a hard time, and he also knew that they've been very close for most of their lives. Adrien would've done anything to help his cousin - and this instance was no exception.

"Hey! How come you're in my room?" He chuckled.

"Ah, erm, it appears I took a wrong turn, sorry about that…"

"How come? You never get lost usually…"

"Well, let's just say that your Father doesn't exactly do good things for my anxiety." He sighed.

"...Oh." And there it comes, stupid Adrien, wrapped around his father's finger, always choosing his parent over him! "Listen… I'm sorry."

What?

"I'm sorry! I think I owe you an apology," he frowned. "for, you know, constantly excusing my father. I'm sorry he's putting you through some stressful stuff, and I'm… not doing anything about it." He turned to look at him. "I hope you can understand that, really. I wish I could do something about it other than offer a shoulder to cry on, but I'm scared of disrespecting his wishes. I apologize." The boy muttered.

"...I guess I was wrong. You didn't do it to hurt me. I thought that was why-" Félix was dumbfounded. Adrien? Admitting his Father was a jerk?? Was this some kind of fever dream???

"...That was why I didn't go to your Dad's funeral?" He guessed. Félix quietly nodded. "No, I'd never want to do that, not after you were there for me when I lost Mom. I'm so sorry, Félix, I should have been there." Tears shone in the latter's green eyes.

"You shouldn't have to apologize, I'm sorry for the way I treated you! You were manipulated, I was just a jerk." He protested, how could he have thought such awful things about such a caring person?

Because you were grieving Lex, you still are.

Don't call me Lex - it was a weak response.

"We were both in pain. And look at you now, you're a good person, I know you are, I can feel it! So maybe since we both apologized for being jerks we just, I dunno, eat ice cream instead?" He smiled awkwardly, for a model he always was such a dork.

Félix raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you lactose intolerant?" he let out a smug grin.

"Oh hush! I can handle a tub of ice cream!" He was going to get so sick tomorrow... Eh, what the hell!

Hey, are you sure you don’t wanna tell him that you know he's Chat Noir?

Kali! You're ruining the moment!

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This fic was made in collaboration with @yawngearyoie at around midnight while we both craved hurt/comfort

This fic IS Cannon to our Bat Félix AU, and will be referenced in other oneshots and the fic. Approximately a quarter of this fic has foreshadowing in it for the actual AU. Pick up on that and you get a cookie 🍪 lol.

The first (offical) part of our AU should be coming either today or at some point next week. We're gonna create a masterpost so y'all can read the fics in the order they actually happen in and not our crazy upload schedule (whenever we feel like it).

Send in Asks if you have any questions, or if you just wanna talk about the AU.

Thanks for reading! (We will be making a tag list, so if you wanna be on that, just say)

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Chapter Five

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For My Masterlist

It had been three days since I last fed. Three days since Klaus and I had almost had sex, against a tree in the middle of the woods. I had been avoiding him since. Going down for breakfast before him, leaving before he arrived and refusing to have dinner with both Mikaelson men. Instead I snuck down to the kitchen and raided the cupboards before I went to bed. I would have skipped the meals all together, not even bothering to go down for food, but the food helped curve the cravings. I could have fed off the compelled staff, but the thought of it made me feel sick—they were already being used as human blood bags and servants. At least if I compelled someone random they could go about living their lives afterward. The humans living here weren’t as lucky.

 I sighed, lying back on my bed and waiting for Klaus and Elijah to be told dinner was ready. I was planning on using them having a meal as a distraction, honestly I didn’t just need food, and I needed to escape for a few hours. I was tired of constantly being on edge, afraid to face Klaus after what had happened. I wanted to relax and have a good time. If I were at home I’d just go to a bar—were bars a thing in the fifteenth century? I would find out after I fed. There had to be somewhere I could go.

 ‘Dinner is ready, Lord Klaus and Lord Elijah.’ I heard Lily’s voice filter up from the kitchen and after I heard two sets of footsteps heading in that direction I flashed out of the house.

 The sun had just started to set and it looked beautiful, too beautiful not to watch. I wished I had a camera as I saw the oranges, purples, pinks and blues that were created as the sun slowly went down. I was a night person, but I couldn’t deny the beauty and sense of peace that washed over me in that moment. I had never seen anything like it before; sunsets in Mystic Falls were nowhere near as captivating.

 ‘Stunning isn’t it?’ A voice snapped me out of my daze and I realised with a shiver that the sun had gone down.

 ‘Yes it is.’ I smiled at the newcomer, wondering who they were. It was clear he was a vampire, due to the absence of a heartbeat; I assumed he was one of Klaus’ men.

 ‘Almost as pretty as you.’ He grinned and I rolled my eyes; his lines were awfully cliché.

 ‘I’m sorry, I have failed to introduce myself. I’m Trevor.’ He grinned, holding out his hand and I just started at it in a daze as warning bells sounded in my brain.

 Trevor was the one who helped Katherine escape. He fell in love with her, trusted her and ended up spending five hundred years running… just like Katherine. My eyes flickered up to his and I forced a smile, taking his hand in mine and shaking it once before letting go.

 ‘Evangeline.’ I offered, storing away what he looked like for later reference.

 I would need to suggest that Katherine have another vampire bodyguard during her time here, rather than him and Elijah. As both men will inevitably end up falling for her. Maybe I could do it? But would Klaus trust me enough?

 ‘Are you going to hunt?’ Trevor asked, once again breaking me out of my thoughts.

 ‘Yes. Thank you for reminding me. Have a good night.’ I saluted him and flashed away. First things first, I had some tasks to complete.

 After I had fed and completely failed at trying to find somewhere to blow off some steam I decided to head back to the Mikaelson’s house, knowing I couldn’t stay away for too long—I had to talk to Klaus, which wouldn’t exactly help with the whole “avoiding him” situation. When I saw a carriage in front of the residence being pulled by two horses, with another two standing loosely at the sides, I frowned.

 What was going on?

 Without waiting, I flashed inside of the house and to the living area where I could hear voices coming from. I stood outside the door and listened.

 ‘Have your men load the caskets in a few hours and we will be leaving at dawn.’ Klaus’ voice carried through the wood and I felt my own confusion grow at his words.

 Caskets? We were leaving? What had I missed?

 ‘Perhaps someone should inform Evangeline of our impending departure?’ Elijah suggested and I took a breath before pushing the door open.

 I felt all eyes turn in my direction but I ignored a particular set of them.

 ‘Why are we leaving?’ I asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms over my chest.

 ‘The destroyer found out about my attempted distraction and instead of heading to the America’s he’s coming this way. We will be fleeing to England at dawn.’ Klaus said, and because I wasn’t looking at him I was able to pick up on Elijah’s surprise. Clearly Klaus had told me more than the elder Mikaelson thought he would.

 ‘Alright. I’ll go and pack.’ I said, resisting the urge to ask a million questions.

 But that didn’t stop them from bouncing around in my mind as I neatly folded my clothes into the bag I had been given them in. Who was the destroyer? Why was Klaus afraid enough of him to move? I thought he was invincible?  And why was he carting around caskets? None of it made any sense. I was just about to get ready for bed and hopefully catch a few hours sleep when a knock at my door disturbed me.

 ‘Come in,’ I called out without even thinking; I was still stood at the foot of my bed, with my back to the door and I didn’t turn around, even when I realised who had joined me in the room.

 ‘I’m surprised you allowed me to enter.’ Klaus’ voiced washed over me and I felt myself shiver, ‘you’ve been avoiding me, love.’

 ‘Have I?’ I said, wincing when my voice rose a little.

 ‘You know you have.’ I felt him behind me, his breath caressed the back of my neck and I couldn’t stop my shiver if I tried.

 ‘Fine you caught me.’ My voice was quiet, but he could clearly hear it.

 ‘Why?’ the vulnerability in his voice made the guilt in my gut increase tenfold.

 ‘Because I don’t know how to act around you now. I can’t just pretend it never happened.’

 My breath caught when his hands rested on my waist, his fingers splaying across my stomach and caressing me through the fabric.

 ‘Who said you had to pretend it didn’t happen, love?’ His husky tone made me bite back a moan.

 But then I remembered why I had walked away from him in the first place, and it wasn’t for the reasons it should have been. It wasn’t because he sacrificed my aunt, or my sister; it was because his servant had reminded me that soon enough he would be turning his attention somewhere else. I didn’t want to be a fill in for him until he got what he really wanted.

 I pulled out of his grasp and put a good distance in between us, ‘the doppelgänger you’re going to be seducing in a week.’

 He blinked, surprised by my answer and actions, but when he recovered a smirk formed on his lips, ‘ah, I see—you’re jealous.’

 ‘Maybe I am,’ I allowed before continuing, ‘or maybe I don’t want to be your little fill in until the one you really want gets here.’

 ‘Evangeline, let me be perfectly clear.’ He stepped towards me and I stepped back, causing irritation to spark in his expression, ‘the doppelgänger is simply a means for me to break my curse, it was agreed that me pretending to court her would be beneficial as it wouldn’t be odd for us to offer her residence here. I was never planning on seducing her, her face brings back some unpleasant memories.’

 I assumed he meant because a doppelgänger had been used to put the curse on him in the first place, but the look in his eye was one I was familiar with: betrayal. As much as I wanted to ask, I didn’t and I accepted his answer. I knew that he didn’t have to lie to me, much less answer to me and honestly I was surprised he responded with anything that wasn’t rage and hostility. This wasn’t the Klaus I knew. The Klaus from my time was easy to hate, he killed without consequence, he answered to no one and he never justified his actions. But this Klaus stirred feelings inside of me that I wasn’t comfortable feeling. He had been genuinely kind to me, he had offered me his trust despite knowing what I had originally come here to do, and when he kissed me… he made me feel alive. I didn’t know how I felt about him being the one to do that.

 ‘Okay.’ I eventually said, when I realised he was looking at me for a response. I blinked when I realised just how close he had gotten when I had been lost in my thoughts; his lips were only an inch away from mine. Just as I was about to inch forward, powerless to resist him when he was so close, a voice broke through the hunger.

 ‘Niklaus!’ Elijah’s yelled, louder than necessary.

 Klaus sighed in frustration and placed a kiss to my forehead before leaving me to go to his brother. I took a moment to collect myself and tried not to think what I had been about to do… again. I had no idea what was happening to me. I wasn’t even supposed to be addressing my jealousy, I was supposed to be talking to him about Trevor, but when he had entered my room, all intentions to have that conversation disappeared from my mind.

 A daggering mission had turned into me helping the enemy, only I couldn’t consider him that anymore. Even though I knew what he was capable of, even I was finding it hard to hate him for crimes he didn’t know he was going to commit. Crimes he might not commit if we were successful in making sure he completed the ritual. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore… Klaus wasn’t all that bad and I was going to stop judging him for things he hadn’t done yet. He didn’t deserve that; at least I didn’t think so. He had allowed me to help him when he could have easily compelled information from me before killing me and… he was good to me. He didn’t lose his temper when I refused his orders—at least not all of the time, and he seemed to like that I didn’t do everything he asked.

 I took a deep breath and nodded, happy with my decision. From here on out I was going to stop feeling guilty about my attraction to Klaus, because if we were successful, everything would be different when I went home. Plus if we did end up having sex, it wasn’t likely I’d see him in six hundred years anyway. Klaus didn’t seem like a commitment kind of guy. I shook my head, shaking those thoughts away; just because I was giving him a chance, it did not mean I had to climb into bed with him.

 It absolutely did not. I sighed. I needed air.

[jaspers-levis]

The New Boy

Happy Pride month! I completely forgot to post this back when I finished, but better late than never, right? Please be kind in regards to my portrayal of the trans experience. I identify as my birth gender, so it was a different experience for me to write as a trans boy. I hope that I got somewhat close to what that experience may be!

Also, no matter who you are, you are deserving of love, respect, safety and happiness. This blog, although twilight themed, is always a safe space. If any of you need someone to talk to, my inbox is always open. Just because I may not know the full experience of what you are going through does not mean I cannot sympathize and offer comfort. We are all human beings on this planet together <3

Reader request by @eatmoarveggies

A new trans boy joins Forks High

“Can’t believe mom’s stupid job landed us in this stupid tiny town,” you muttered to yourself at the stoplight (the only one) on Main Street. Rain lashed at your windshield in an unrelenting stream, perfectly reflecting your mood. Not two weeks ago you’d been laughing it up at a cafe table in the sun on the California coast with your friends, planning a weekend getaway trip the last weekend before school started. Now you were driving as slowly as a snail through the pools of water covering the roadway in your crappy silver toyota, for once glad your mom hadn’t let you get a convertible. 

You glanced at the clock, realizing that if you continued at this pace you would be pushing the bell when you arrived at school for your first day, and inched the gas pedal down a notch. Stupid dumb rain. Sighing, you finally made the turn into the Fork’s High school parking lot and pulled into one of the last spots available. You reluctantly shut off the engine and checked your backpack for your school welcome packet. Unfortunately they’d written your birth name on each form, rather than the name you’d chosen for yourself two years ago when you realized you were a boy. Even after all this time, the deliberate refusal to call you by your correct name still rankled.

Annoyed, you ripped your school map out of the packet and slammed the folder shut before hopping out of your car and dashing for the main building. The offensive welcome packet served as a good shield against the downpour and you managed to get to the office with your carefully styled hair still in place. “Hi there, honey,” a generically pretty middle-aged receptionist greeted you. “How can I help you?”

“I’m supposed to register for classes? I’m Y/N, from California,” you told her, setting your stuff down on the counter. 

“Hmm…” she clicked industriously at her computer for a few moments. “I’m sorry hon, I recognize the last name but not the first.”

Sighing internally you muttered that it might be under your birth name, not your actual name and she instantly brightened. “Oh! Of course, here we are. Such an interesting name for a young girl. Is it a nickname?”

“No, I actually identify as a male,” you stiffened, resigned to an entire day of misgendering if the rest of the staff and students here at Forks High were as thick as this lady. “Thank you for your help.” You grabbed your schedule out of her hands and made a beeline for the door before she could say anything that was clearly already on the tip of her tongue.

On your way out, you opened the door right into a slim, dark haired girl who immediately dropped all her books and tripped over her own untied shoelace on her way to pick them up. “I’m so sorry!” you apologized, kneeling to help gather her books.

“Hey don’t worry about it!” she said cheerfully with a wry smile, shoving up the sleeves of her plaid shirt. “My mom always says I’m a walking disaster. Edward, my boyfriend, says if there is even the slightest change in elevation I’d fall.”

“I had a friend like that back home,” you return her good natured smile and help her stand. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Cool, I’m Bella,” she shook your hand, not missing a beat. She did eye you curiously but didn’t say another word on it, besides wishing you luck on her way to her first class. Hm. Maybe Forks wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought…

And you were deeply wrong. Every single teacher called you by your birth name and when you corrected them whispers circulated amongst the class for the better part of the period. At least one person made a pointed remark about your physical appearance within hearing range each class, and one girl openly asked you what you had “down there” in between classes. Things only got worse when you asked if there was a private changing room you could use before gym. The instructor laughed before realizing you were serious and begrudgingly offered you a cluttered storage room next to his office. “I don’t like offering special treatment,” he groused as he unlocked the door. “Don’t mess anything up in here.”

You sighed and changed quickly, emerging to find a group of teenage boys, seniors and juniors mostly, waiting for you. Gritting your teeth at the sharp jump in your pulse, you tried to push through them. One of them caught you and shoved you, hard. “So what are you, really?” their leader asked, scowling. “You can’t seriously be calling yourself a boy, you look like a fucking girl. Or are you one of those gays too?”

“That’s none of your business,” you mutter, trying to get past them again. This time you were thrust against the wall so hard your head knocked against the cinderblocks painfully. 

“Like hell it isn’t!” the leader growled in your face, pinning you against the wall. “You just want to get in the boy’s locker room for a sneak peek, is that it? We’ll give you a sneak peek right here!”

You spat in his face in retaliation and he threw you to the floor in anger, where the rest of the boys surrounded you in an instant, ready to beat the shit out of you. Curling into a ball, you sent up a prayer to whatever god was listening that it would be over soon. 

After a moment, you uncurled yourself when not a single kick landed. You looked up to see the largest senior boy you’d ever seen standing before you looking scarier than hell as he stood off against your tormentors. A statuesque blonde girl stood next to him, shaking with fury and shooting daggers at the boys. “Don’t ever fucking come near him again,” she spat, taking a step forward. 

“What are you gonna do?” the leader sneered, crossing his arms.

“You don’t even want to know, bro,” the enormous boy said, laying a restraining hand on the girl. “Get the fuck out of here before she loses her temper.”

The boys turned and ran at the look on the girl’s face.

“Hey man, you okay?” the large boy turned and reached out a hand to help you up. His skin was shockingly cold for such a large dude… “My name’s Emmett, and this is Rosalie. We heard the commotion and came to see what was going on.”

“I’m Y/N,” you stammer as Rosalie turns her fearsome gaze at you. 

“If those boys, or anyone else even so much as LOOK at you funny, you come find me or one of our family. We’ll take care of it,” she said fiercely, her golden eyes frighteningly intense.

Emmet gave Rose a look and sighed. “Y/N… you’re new, right? You met our brother’s girlfriend Bella earlier this morning. Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too…” you said haltingly, uncertain.

“Ignore Rose; she won’t bite...well, you at least,” Emmett joked, patting you on the shoulder and leading the two of you back to the gymnasium. “But seriously, if anyone is nasty to you again, we’ll help you out. No one should be treated like that!”

“Why are you helping me?” you asked, apprehensive of these beautiful strangers and their generous offer of aid.

“Those guys are all assholes,” Rosalie growled, sending a terrifying glare in their direction across the gym floor that sent them scattering like cockroaches under a light. “I hate them.”

“Well, that, and we don’t like bullies,” Emmett shrugged. “What you have in your pants, who you are or what you look like are your business, not anyone else’s. Who the fuck cares anyways?”

“Way too many people at this school,” you mutter as the gym teacher approached, explaining the activity for the class. You didn’t get a chance to talk more with Rosalie and Emmett during class, but afterwards they invited you to sit at lunch with you and their family. Maybe things really wouldn’t be that bad if you had a couple of supportive friends like the Cullens...

[leiascully]

Fic:  Baseball Metaphors (15/15)

Part One  |  Part Two  |  Part Three |  Part Four |  Part Five |  Part Six|  Part Seven |  Part Eight |  Part Nine  |   Part Ten  |  Part Eleven  |  Part Twelve | Part Thirteen |  Part Fourteen

Thanks for sticking with me to the end of what, like Visitor, began as a one-shot and ended up a thirty thousand word journey.  It’s possible that this is the epilogue of Deathly Hallows of epilogues, and if that’s true for you, please feel free to ignore it and live forever with Mulder and Scully in the throes of some truly epic afterglow.  But I wanted to follow the thread a little further, and explore what their future might have been if this had been their present sometime in the middle of Season 3 (honestly, a terrible time to set it, given how many killer episodes and how much mytharc I ended up having to write out of their moderately peaceful life together).  I’m sorry to say that it’s safe for work, PG at most.

Jenny won't take elopement for an answer, so Scully relents and lets her help plan the reception.  Despite her dull taste in paint colors, Jenny turns out to have exquisite taste when it comes to planning weddings, and she and Scully talk flowers and place settings and the details of the reception dress for hours.  She coaxes out all of the details Scully never thought she cared about as Mulder watches, fascinated.  In another life Jenny would have made a great interrogator.  Maybe even in this one.  

They go to the wedding, of course.  The minister is boring and the vows are boilerplate.  Mulder slides his thumb smugly under the hem of Scully's dress.  She smiles like an angel and pulls him into the garden during the reception so that he can keep the promise his thumb made.  But they both cry, just a little.  It's not because of Ethan and Jenny, they swear to each other.  It's just the idea of weddings, of course.  It's the idea that they, one day soon, will be standing up in front of each other and saying their various versions of same old words that somehow still mean something every time.

Eventually, the baby is born, and their time with Ethan and Jenny peters out, except for Scully's occasional wedding planning dates.  She dandles the baby on her knee and discusses the merits of a veil versus a fascinator for the reception (the fascinator wins) while Jenny changes out the cabbage leaves in her nursing bra.  

They get married in her mother's living room.  Maggie isn't happy about the lack of a Catholic wedding necessarily, but she gives them her blessing as they join hands and promise themselves to each other, forever and ever.  At least the priest makes house calls, Mulder thinks.  They all sign the document afterwards and Scully's mother serves up cake and coffee.  It's all very civilized.  Scully glows in a dress she got from the department store.  Mulder touches the white rose pinned to the lapel of his new bespoke suit.  When everyone's plates are just crumbs and the cups are dregs, they hug Maggie and take their leave.  She presses a horseshoe and a bell into Mulder's hands.

"Melissa would have wanted you to have it," she says.  Scully cries.

That night in bed, they explore each other slowly, their hunger tempered now by months of indulgence.  He spends so long after his first orgasm coaxing gentle climaxes out of her that she reaches down and finds him firm again, and she slides her leg over his hip and takes him in.  They make love gazing into each other's eyes, as if each touch is part of a ritual that will keep them safe and whole and happy.

Only afterwards do they realize they forgot the condom.  

The train from DC to Portland, Maine takes twelve hours, give or take.  They spend most of it holding hands.  Scully pages through the issues of JAMA she's never managed to catch up on.  Mulder reads a treatise on alien behavior that someone sent him anonymously, sharing the most entertaining portions aloud with Scully.  

The B&B may or may not be haunted, but it's picturesque as hell.  They rent a car and drive into the woods and there it is, white clapboard and black gables spattered with wet leaves that the wind has pasted there.  The bed is deep and soft and they spend the weekend hiking, eating, drinking wine by the fireplace, and making love with no barriers between them, holding their hope cupped in their palms like a candle flame in a breeze.  

Scully doesn't get pregnant. It's just as well.  They keep going out on cases.  They dip in and out of the darkness of their own minds.  Krycek reappears, the bad penny forever turning up.  That's after the black oil, after the airport in Hong Kong.  

"I should have made him my best man," Mulder muses, when everything's over, because there's nothing to do but whistle in the dark.

"Frohike would have been a better choice," Scully demurs.  

At the reception, Byers gives a lovely toast and Frohike demands to dance with the bride.  Langly tries to DJ.  No one dances.  It's a small party, but Teena Mulder comes down.  She kisses Scully's cheek and presses a glass of wine into her hand.  "I said the seven blessings," she says.  "I always knew it would be you.  Fox will know what to do."  

He ducks his head.  "Thank you, Mom."

She reaches up and strokes his cheek.  "You're a good son, Fox.  I think you'll make a good husband."

"He is," Scully says fiercely.

Teena's eyes soften.  She nods.  They drink the wine and Mulder steps on the glass.  "Mazel tov," Teena says, and makes her excuses.

They don't tell anyone about the marriage, not even Skinner.  Scully wears her ring on the chain around her neck, next to her cross.  It seems safer that way.  They do move in together, quietly, submitting separate change of address forms weeks apart.  There's some kind of solace in coming to work in separate cars and opening the door of their new apartment to find the other one already waiting in a place that isn't filled with their own ghosts.  Mulder keeps his old place too; it's a convenient place to meet up with his informants.  

They fake his death there one day, when Scully is dying of cancer and Mulder is at the end of his rope.  He comes back from the land of the lost with a chip for the back of her neck.  Bill steps in front of him, a snarl on his face, but Maggie lays a hand on her son's arm.

"That's her husband," she says calmly, and weathers the hurricane of Bill's fury and confusion while Mulder coaxes Scully to sit up, kissing her dry cheek and whispering to her about miracles.  She has the little bottle in one hand and her rosary in the other.  

"You can't let go," he says.  "I know I said 'til death do us part, but Scully, that can't be now."  He kneels at her bedside and sobs against her thigh while she strokes his hair.  

"I'll do it," she says, and he can hear that there isn't really hope in her voice, but she wants to spare him the agony of never having tried.  

She gets better.  They go to the doctor to discuss the ova from the facility Mulder found.  The specialist thinks there's hope.  It takes a few months, but eventually the test comes back positive.  "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Scully," the specialist says, and neither of them correct her.  The conspiracy they've been unraveling may be so much lint and chaff, but this is real.  They put their hands together on her belly.

When they find Emily, the adoption agency is only too happy to let them fill out the paperwork.  A nice young married couple, steady jobs, maybe a little on the dangerous side, but at least they've got good insurance and a government pension, right?  And it can't be so risky, if Agent Scully is pregnant and still going in to the office.  They have to tell Skinner after that.  He doesn't look particularly surprised. They fly their daughter across the country and settle, dazed and dazzled, into some kind of routine.

At least their new place has a bedroom for her, and one for the baby on the way.  They burn through a lot of their sick days, but Emily begins to grow and thrive and Scully's belly rounds.  Mulder helps her with her reading at night; Scully coaxes her through math.  It works.  They're a family.   When they bring home little William, Emily is delighted.  

Cassandra Spender disappears from a bridge in Pennsylvania.  Her son batters down the door to the basement, but they don't know much more than he does.  Scully was home with Emily when the itching began, not in her neck but in her brain, but it was bathtime for Emily, and there were stories to be read, and then Mulder to hold her in the dark, and she never left DC.  

Diana Fowley strides back into their lives, bearing news of a psychic child.  She studies the ring on Scully's hand (no point in secrets anymore) and their family photos on the desk.  "Congratulations," she says in a deliberately even voice.  The door closes behind her with a click.  She doesn't come back.

They go to Texas while Maggie watches the kids.  Somehow they end up in Antarctica, but somehow they get back with all their fingers and toes and a few more insights into the vast global conspiracy that used to be the lodestar of their lives.  They lose the X-Files for a little while, but they have other things that are important, like where Emily's other shoe is and whether there are any clean bottles to store breastmilk in and why Mulder's mother sends such expensive presents.

(Scully never goes to Africa.  Mulder never goes to Oregon.  Despite it all, they have their health and strength.)

They're happy.  They still argue.  One Christmas Eve, Mulder convinces Scully to leave the kids at her mother's and takes her ghosthunting for old time's sake.  One strange day through a series of strange coincidences, Scully meets her ex at a hospital.

"All the choices we've made," she says later, blurry after a glass of wine, "they've all led to this moment."

"I'd make the same ones," he says.  

"Me too," she says, taking his hand.  "You know, the kids are in bed."

"Are you propositioning me, Agent Scully?" he asks, mocking outrage.

"It's my turn," she says, and leads him into their bedroom, and he thinks they just might live happily ever after after all.

[notveryglittery]

Flirting With Danger, Ch7

summary: Virgil hates his job and also his life. Logan definitely, for sure knows how to talk to a cute guy without imploding. Remy tries to help, but like… not very hard. words: 2,000 / ships: platonic sleepxiety, romantic analogical notes: hi, did you miss us!! we’ve been at this for awhile but i’m very happy with the result!! @do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them​ is back at it again with lines that make me giggle helplessly :’) 

read on ao3 | Ch1: the first time | Ch2: *mcelroy voice* hotboy! Ch3: sky soliloquy | Ch4: the interview™ Ch5: you have my heart | Ch6: the second time Ch7: is this allowed??

“Rem… please. I have a splitting headache and you are not helping.”

The string of offended curses that followed weren’t helping either. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe if you would just tell me what happened last night, I wouldn’t have to bother you so much about it!”

Virgil took the bell ringing above the door as his chance to get away from his coworker and the relentless badgering. Remy had been at it since Virgil showed up for his shift — which had been a miracle all its own. Of course he hadn’t wanted to leave Patton home alone! Virgil was starting to think he shouldn’t leave Patton alone ever. Sure, he’d been clumsy and accident-prone in their youth but this was kinda getting out of hand. For as long as they’d been living together, Patton had never had encounters with superheroes or supervillains, and suddenly it happens twice in the span of a few weeks? If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d guess that Patton did have powers, and they were of the bad luck variety.

“Babe. I’m going to find out one way or another.”

Oh, Virgil recognized that tone.

“That’s your ‘I already know but I want your version of the story’ voice.”

Again, spluttered indignation. Virgil knew people often didn’t disagree with Remy (something about his “charm”) but it’d never cease to amaze him how offended he was every time Virgil called him out on something.

“I have no such thing!”

“You kinda do,” Toby called from a booth in the corner where he was currently working on designs for tomorrow’s board.

Remy shot a glare in his direction.

“Linda, your caramel macchiato with soy.”

The moment Linda was out the door and their coffee shop empty, Remy rounded on Virgil.

“Fine! Why was the Prince at your apartment last night!”

Virgil, despite knowing that Remy knew, was still surprised.

“And why was he bridal carrying Patton as if they were newlyweds!”

Virgil blinked, wondering why Remy seemed so hung up on that of all things.

“Does this have anything to do with that attempted jewelry store robbery?”

“Why do you need to hear anything from me when you apparently have all the details?” Virgil frowned. “What the hell, dude, do you have ears everywhere?”

Remy waved his hand dismissively. “Hon, don’t worry about it, just tell me what happened!”

Virgil glanced around the coffeeshop. For the time being, it was empty. They’d just reached that rare slow time between rushes. Other than Toby, who Virgil didn’t mind overhearing anyway since Remy was likely to share with him afterwards regardless, there was no one around to eavesdrop. Sighing, Virgil let Remy wait a few more agonizing minutes while he cleaned up from the last drink and washed his hands before finally getting comfy leaning against the counter.

“Patton accidentally tripped the speedster while they were trying to make their getaway,” Virgil began, trying to ignore the anxiety doing its best to make him worry again. It was in the past! It already happened! Let it go, Virgil. “That kind of fucked up his ankle and then, when trying to remove himself from the situation, he hurt his hand on some glass that had broken from the door.”

Remy was looking more and more distraught with each word and Virgil wondered why his coworker was so worried about his roommate when they hadn’t even met.

“The Prince found out somehow and met Patton at the hospital and offered to help him home. Which, like, that isn’t totally weird. I’m definitely not bothered over this superpowered stranger being so good at finding my best friend, nope, no big deal at all.”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Remy interrupted. “He probably talked to the police, babe, it’s fine. Besides, he already knows where you live so… whatever, right?”

Virgil scowled at him. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Did you give him a piece of your mind?” Toby asked, getting them back on track.

“Did I — No shit, Sherlock!” Virgil snapped. “I’d been trying to get a hold of Patton because he was supposed to be home before me and he wasn’t answering and then I open the door to find him there, in the arms of that hot-headed prick?!”

“No proof that his highness has a temper,” Remy piped up.

“Shut up, it was a pyrokinetic joke and you know it. Anyway, Patton was… already pretty upset and my yelling didn’t help, so that… Uhm.” Virgil trailed off, looking guilty all of a sudden. Remy had a pretty good inkling as to why, but before he could mention it, the bell ringing notified them to another customer. They all quickly pretended they hadn’t been standing there talking for the last ten minutes, but as soon as Virgil looked up, he forgot how to act productive. Logan Roberts? In his coffee shop? It was, apparently, more likely than he thought.

“Uh- hey, welcome,” he said once he remembered how to talk.

Logan smiled, which wasn’t fair. “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Virgil thought he might have been teasing, but he still looked so serious, and anyway he was already spilling out words like the gay dumbass he was. “No—we were just, I was telling them about something that happened to my friend yesterday—sorry, I’m an idiot, what did you want? To order?” He cringed as internally as possible and started making plans to never speak again.

Logan took a moment to peruse the menu while Virgil wondered how bad it would look if he ducked out of this particular order and let Remy take care of it. Before he could do so, Logan looked back at him, smiled again, why did he keep having to smile, and spoke.

“I’ll take a black coffee in the largest size you have,” he requested, and Virgil wanted to disappear because of course it was Logan Roberts's first time at their coffeeshop and of course Virgil had to be the one to ring him up.

“On it, babe!” Remy chirped, getting started on the drink, and sounding suspiciously like he knew exactly the gay crisis Virgil was currently experiencing.

Logan's expression soured at the nickname and Virgil hurried to remedy it.

“Ignore him,” Virgil suggested, typing the order into the register. “I'm sure you've dealt with more annoying, anyway.”

“Hey!” Remy shouted.

Logan sighed and adjusted his tie. “Quite,” he agreed, taking out his wallet. “I'm going to need this to interact with certain of my own associates later.”

“At least you’re not interviewing any super-powered pricks today.”

Logan blinked, looking at him with renewed interest. “True. I have to say, it’s refreshing to meet someone else who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. …Or flies over, as it may be.”

“Same thing I thought watching your interview, dude.” Virgil cracked a smile at the memory, which he hardly ever did for anyone but Patton. “It was, uh… good.” Yes. Great job, Virgil, that wasn’t lame at all. “Patton, though—that’s my roommate—he never shuts up about him. And now I can’t even be annoyed, ‘cause he went and got himself hurt yesterday…” Virgil realized he was rambling, only digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness.

Logan, however, had perked up even more.

“Patton Minett?”

In a heartbeat, Virgil was on red alert. He eyed Logan suspiciously as the reporter swiped his card to pay for his drink. “... No.”

“You’ve lived with him for years but go off, I guess,” Remy deadpanned in the background.

“Apologies,” Logan said hurriedly. “I merely wondered if this was the same Patton who prevented a robbery last night. I’ve been trying to find a way to get in contact with him in order to hear the details directly from the source, you see. …If you knew him, I might have asked you to aid me in that endeavor.”

Virgil crossed his arms, searching Logan’s face for anything to actually justify that first instinct of telling him to fuck off. … It wasn’t really his job to decide Patton shouldn’t do this, was it?

“If I know him,” he finally said, “which I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t go around giving people his information just because they said they wanna talk to him. How about you tell me how to contact you, and then if I know him and if he wants to, he’ll call you or whatever.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Logan remarked wryly. “But I suppose I’m not opposed to your proposal.” He blinked, processed what he’d just said, and winced. “That, ah, was not intentional. Here, before I embarrass myself any further.” He pulled a tiny notepad out of his pocket, because obviously he was the sort of person to carry a tiny notepad around at all times, and scribbled down a phone number. “I hope to hear from you soon,” he said with a smile, and then left before Virgil could collect himself enough to respond. And also without waiting for his coffee. Oops?

“Huh.” Remy watched him walk away, not quite caring enough to run outside and remind him. “Guess he doesn’t get to see that I wrote your number on this cup now.”

“You WHAT?!”

Virgil grabbed the coffee cup out of his hand and slam dunked it into the trash.

“Aww. I was gonna drink that.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore, I’m going on break, do not even try to exist near me or I swear.” He yanked his apron over his head, balled it up, and threw it to the side with only a small glance to make sure it wouldn’t land in a bad place and, like, cause a fire or something. Which was his version of carelessly.

Toby spoke up from his booth, where he’d been shamelessly eavesdropping on everything. “He’s going to scream into a towel, isn’t he?”

“Yup.”

Logan realized he had no coffee before he’d even made it all the way out the door, but it was too late, there was nothing to be done at this point. There was no way he could go back and stand at the counter until it was finished… much like there was no way he could ever set foot in that coffeeshop again. What a disaster. Logan was very good at ordering coffee and very good at establishing contacts to assist in his work, but apparently when the two combined he became completely useless, which had nothing to do with any hypothetical cute baristas he may have particularly wanted to make a good impression on, why would some equally hypothetical person even suggest that? Preposterous.

The mood he found himself in for the rest of the day, resulting from various factors such as “no caffeine” and “series of interpersonal screwups,” meant that everyone else mostly avoided him. Unfortunately, this left him with a lot of time to think. He spent most of that time attempting to rephrase the thought “I hope Virgil calls me soon” into something a bit more professional. This was more difficult that it sounded, as each new clarification left him with the uncomfortable feeling that he was lying to himself.

Virgil didn’t stop screaming into a towel until it was almost the end of his shift anyway, and by that point everyone agreed it would be better if he just went home. He was scaring the customers. He barely remembered his walk back to the apartment building, what with his entire brain being taken up by “holy shit I have Logan Roberts’s number” and “oh my god I looked like such a weird rude idiot in front of Logan Roberts, I can never try to talk to him again ever.” All he knew was that he was at the coffeeshop, and then eventually, he was opening the front door.

“Patton,” he called out, knowing his roommate would be able to hear him from wherever he was. “Please don’t ask me to explain but we have to fucking move.”