#because it's like roman's finally out of the haze and seeing what he did to this relationship and what he lost in this ep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seamsterspell · 3 years

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Do You Have a Membership?

Summary:

Levi went to a convenience store, and he was welcomed by a dazzling cashier. [LH Modern AU]

Words: 2081

A/N: A Oneshot that was Inspired by a real life event that my friend had experienced. It was so funny and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hence, I want to immortalized their story by turning it into a Levihan fanfiction.

LINK: AO3 / FFNET

DISCLAIMER: Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan belongs to Hajime Isayama.

Levi had visited this gas station a few times before, but he had never bought something from the convenience store. However, one day, when he was driving Isabel to her university, he found himself in needed for gas. At the same time, he had also promised Isabel to buy her snacks for her faculty camping trip. Hence, to save some time, they decided to go to the convenience store after filling his car with gas.

Well, at least, that was the plan. But he should have known that Isabel is far too rebellious for his plan, no matter how simple it is. Because, in a quick motion, Isabel unfastened her seatbelt and went straight to the store, leaving Levi to queue for the gas alone.

Few minutes later, after he got what he needed, he parked the car in front of the small store. From the look of it, the store seemed to be vacant. Levi opened the glass door and heard a bell ring.

"Welcome to Rose Mini Mart!"

Additional voice was heard alongside the ringing of the bell. Levi was quite taken aback by a cheerful greeting that he got, which was a bit jarring from the usual greeting that he got from tired and underpaid retail workers.

Levi threw a quick glance at the cashier and glanced away. However, soon enough he found himself glancing back at the cashier. It was proven to be a bad decision because he locked eyes with the person. In an instant, he glanced away and walked further inside the store, focusing on his task to find a teenager with bright red hair. Fortunately, the store was small, so it was not hard for him to find her. She was standing in an alley that was filled with snacks and candies.

"Jesus, Isabel. Do you want to rob the entire shop?" Levi commented as soon as he saw Isabel—who was trying to fit various selection of potato chips into her hands.

"What do you mean? I just want to be prepared. What if I got lost in a forest?" Isabel replied nonchalantly as she grabbed another bag of potato chips.

"Don't be over dramatic. It's a fake forest, a playground for adults. You have to be stupid enough to get lost in there." Levi took two pairs of potato chip bags from her before putting it back on the rack. "It's only three days, Isa. Just buy what you need."

Isabel pouted and reluctantly put back most of her snacks, muttering under her breath as she did that. Levi insisted that he would not pay if she bought a lot, but Isabel kept persuading him to let her to buy another package. After throwing arguments back and forth, in the end, Isabel's haul consisted of a bag of chips, a bar of chocolate, two cartons of strawberry juice, and a package of dry toasted almond.

"Wow, you got a lot in there." The cashier remarked with a chuckle when Isabel put her snacks on the counter. "You're going somewhere?" She asked Isabel.

Isabel then proceeded to tell the cashier about her faculty camping trip. The cashier nodded to Isabel's story as she took each item and scanned it.

Now that Levi stood near the cashier, he was able to scan her appearance. She was wearing a long black sleeves shirt and a green apron. Her hair was knotted into a messy updo from which a few baby hairs could be seen coming out. She also wore rectangular glasses that sat on top of her roman nose.

There was nothing special with the way she dressed or styled herself. Nevertheless, Levi was somehow captivated by her, and he did not know why or how it happened. Was it because she looked so genuine when she smiled? Was it because the way her auburn hair shines from the sun that peeked through the store window? Was it because her genial attitude toward Isabel? Or was it because she looked—

"Alright, that will be $20.50, sir."

Levi was brought back from his stupor to meet a pair of sweet chocolate eyes. He blinked once as he muttered, "Ah."

"Will that be cash or charge?" She asked.

Levi took his wallet from his pocket and grabbed two pair of 10 dollars bill and a coin. "Cash." He said as he gave her the money.

"Do you have Rose membership?" She inquired when she took the money and count it.

"No."

"Do you have coupons?"

"No."

She nodded, "alright, you paid exactly $20.50 so there will be no change." The cashier clicked a few keys on the keyboard, put the money on the register, and gave him the receipt. "Thank you!" She said with the same smile that never falter since the beginning.

After making sure the receipt was right, Levi took Isabel—who had already put the snacks inside her canvas bag—by the elbow and led her outside.

"See you again." She told them before they left.

•──────✦──────•

Levi started his car and drove his car away from the gas station. However, he found himself lost in a haze of his own mind. He could not even focus to hear Isabel's rambling because his thought was filled with a certain someone. It was strange, because he did not even know her name, but she had caught him by surprised.

Levi thought that maybe it was because he did not expect someone like her to work as a cashier in a gas station convenience store. Granted, nothing is wrong with the job, but Levi had never met a cashier that… that is… that is so…

"LEVI!"

Levi jolted in his seat from the sudden loud voice that came from the girl that seated next to her. He looked on the road, expecting the worst, but luckily nothing happened. For a second, he was scared that they would die or something. After regaining his composure, Levi furrowed his brows at her and exclaimed, "What the fuck, Isabel?"

"I had to scream because you didn't respond!" She said in her usual high voice. However, Levi noticed a hint of urgency on her voice.

Levi sighed and clicked his tongue. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, apology accepted. Now that we have made our peace, I want us to go back to the store."

"Huh?" Levi could not believe her request. He was barely driving for ten minutes, and she already want to go back? Well, it is not like he did not like that idea…

"We need to go back." She repeated as she sat awkwardly on the seat. Her countenance was nothing out of ordinary, but there was a sign on her forehead that said, 'something is definitely not right'.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning her suspiciously. "What do you mean we need—"

"WE NEED TO GO BACK!"

"I HEARD YOU!" He replied in an equally loud manner before lowering it again as he asked, "Why? You forget something?"

"Not really..." Isabel muttered before finally looking at Levi with much seriousness in her face. It was rare for her to make that face, so whatever this thing is, it must be so important. "Okay, listen Levi. I need to buy a tampon."

Levi raised one of his brows. "What? How could you forget something as important as that?"

"Well, I didn't know I got it until now." The words easily flew from her mouth, almost like she just told him about the weather today.

Levi paused before his face finally turned horror as he glanced at Isabel with bewildered eyes. He opened his mouth and asked in a low voice, "… Are you freaking serious?"

"No, it’s a prank."

Silence.

"OF COURSE, IT’S NOT. I'M SERIOUS, LEVI." Isabel grabbed his shoulder to shake him. "That's why we have to go back! Do you want me to—"

"Fuck no!" Levi shook his head in disbelief before looking at her again. "Are you even sure about it?"

"YEAH, I'M SURE! I KNOW MY BODY, OKAY?!"

Levi grunted before finally taking a turn to go back to the gas station. They parted away as soon as they arrived at the gas station. Isabel went to the toilet, walking in slow and painstaking steps. Meanwhile, Levi sprinted and barged into the store, making the bell rang loudly as he did.

"Welcome—Oh, it's you again."

Levi gave her a nod before walking to the personal care aisle and grabbed Isabel's usual choice of brand. He went to the cashier in hurry and immediately pocket his wallet from his pocket.

"You came back." The cashier remarked in a voice that was buoyant and tender.

"Yeah."

She grabbed the package and scanned it. "Oh, seems like your sister forgot this, huh?"

"Yeah—" He answered before furrowing his brows at her. "Wait, how did you know?"

"Deduction, I guess." She chuckled as she took a glance at the monitor. "From the way you two argued over potato chips and dry toasted almond, I knew immediately that you two are siblings."

On one hand, Levi was taken aback, and a little bit impressed by her observation. He and Isabel do not look exactly alike, so there had been some awkward instances where people would mistake them as any other but siblings. Although, on the other hand, Levi was kind of embarrassed by the fact that he and Isabel quarrelled loudly in public.

"Alright, that will be $6.68." She looked back at him with gleam in her eyes. "Will that be cash or charge?"

"Cash" Levi opened his wallet, grabbed two bills, and put it on the casher table before opening the small compartment where he put his coins. Levi then grabbed a few coins and started to count it.

"Do you have Rose membership?"

"No."

"Do you have coupons?"

"No."

"Do you have a partner?"

"No— What?!"

Chink.

Series of metal sound hitting ceramic was heard loudly on the quiet store. Levi stared blankly at his coins that scattered all over the floor. Then, he heard a feminine laughter coming from the cashier. Levi's started to feel his cheek burning from the event. He immediately crouched down and started to collect his coins.

"I'm sorry." She said before leaving the register and went to kneel in front of him. She helped him to grab some of the coins, she even willing to grab the coin that got stuck under the table. He was grateful for her help, but she just could not stop laughing while doing so, and it made him even more self-conscious.

Oddly enough, he was able to let it slide. He just could not find himself angry at her, not when she laughed like that. Her laughter was so sweet, so enchanting, and so addicting. So much so that he let the corners of his mouth lifted for a second.

After making sure that she did not miss any coins, she stood up and returned to her post. A few coins on her hand and she counted it. Then she grabbed the money that he had left on the counter and said, "six dollars…" before showing him the coins that she had on her hand, "…and sixty-eight cents."

“Ah, yeah—" He muttered in a croaky voice, a clear sign that he was being betrayed by his body. He cleared his throat and repeat his sentence in a clearer voice. "Yeah, thank you."

"You're welcome." She giggled and gave him the receipt.

Levi nodded as he took the receipt and the item. He glanced at her and at the door, contemplating on what he should do. In the end, his pathetic self decided to nod at her again before turning his body to the door.

"I'm Hange, by the way." She suddenly told him in a soft voice, almost like she was hesitating to speak it.

Levi halted on his step and returned to look back at her. A subtle flush could be seen on her cheek and Levi had to mentally stopped himself from staring at her like an idiot. He rubbed his nape and said, "Levi."

She was beaming with joy at his response. "Then, see you again…?"

Unlike the one that she said to him and Isabel, this time she voiced it more like a question than a statement. Levi smirked before he walked to the exit and answered, "only if my sister forgot something again."

Well, if there is one thing he knew about Isabel, she tends to forget things.

-fin-

#cha cha real smooooottthhhh #this was fun!!#it's nice to write in a more casual english #tftae is slowly turning me into shakespeare #ngl I went to walmart page to check on the price bcs idk the value of dollar :D #it's been so long since I wrote them in modern AU #levihan #levihan fanfiction #bluemallow

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ao3theskyisblue · 3 years

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How to Woo a Texan

For @bellakitse who prompted this nearly a year ago and I had the audacity to put it off for this long 😅 Thank you for the title prompt, I hope you enjoy!

Summary:

He was suddenly brought back to the time when he was 5 years old, gazing at the white lilies in that antique vase every morning. How he hadn’t understood why his mother carried an aura so bright and yet so soft at the same time every time she looked at them.

Oh. There you are. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

***

Or, snapshots through time of their relationship with a splash of feelings

Read on AO3

Ever since he could remember, there was always a fresh vase of white lilies that sat comfortably on the side of the kitchen counter. A 5-year-old Carlos, who was finally old enough to climb down the stairs himself (though his parents seemed to disagree) had always tried to wake up early to try and catch whoever it was that was responsible for them. They always magically appeared like clockwork every Monday morning at 7am.

Neatly trimmed, placed, and lasted a week before a brand-new batch would appear the next Monday.

He hadn’t wanted to think too much about them, but there were times that he caught his mother looking at the flowers with a soft look in her eyes. Sometimes she would brush her fingers along the petals, and other times she would lean down to delicately smell them, an ever-present smile gracing her lips.

He asked her about it once, the words coming out faster than his brain could tell him to stop.

“Mama, where those come from?” He asks one morning, lips puckered in a light pout when he realized he didn’t catch whoever it was that put them there again. His mother turned around from where she was washing some grapes to look in his direction, only to widen her eyes in horror.

“Carlitos! What have I told you about climbing onto places taller than you?” His mother scolded, rushing over to stop him from climbing onto the kitchen counter so he could reach the vase easier. She wrapped her arms gently around his waist, and he didn’t fight it when she sat him on a dining room chair.

“But I wanted to see flowers!” Carlos pointed towards the vase, and his mother turned her head to where he was looking, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She reached over to take out one of the flowers slowly, before displaying it in front of him.

“You mean the white lilies?” His mother asked, nodding at him when he looked at her questioningly. He took the flowers gently in his hands, running his fingers along the petals. They felt like any other flower he’s touched in the schoolyard, and they didn’t have a particularly distinct scent. At least, not that he could tell.

So, what was so special about these flowers?

He was about to ask, but his mother beat him to it. “Your dad is a little bit of a romantic. He wakes up early to get these from the farmer’s market every Monday morning.” And there it is again. That smile he always sees on his mother whenever his dad is mentioned, a smile that made her look so bright and happy.

There was something he didn’t understand though.

“What’s a ro…romand-romantic? Is it like…like Roman empire?” Carlos frowned, not quite remembering that book his teacher had been reading a few weeks ago but he was sure he heard ‘Roman’ somewhere. His mother shook her head, laughing fondly. He watched her get up from her kneeling position to sit on the dining chair beside him, her hands resting on his knees.

“You’re probably a little too young to understand this fully,” Carlos wrinkled his nose at that, because no, he wasn’t too “young,” he could recite the alphabet just fine forwards and backward and knew all his times tables.

His mother gave him a knowing look as if she knew what he was thinking. “Those were the flowers your father gave me when he first told me he loved me, and ever since then, he gets them every week- rain or shine. Just to see a smile on my face when I open the door for him.” His mother’s smile is radiant, and he sees her peeking at the flowers again affectionately, as if just looking at them rings in a new bout of happiness all over again.

“So…” Carlos trails off, a million thoughts circling his mind. “Love means flowers?” His mother chuckles at that, patting his leg fondly.

“It could be, but everyone expresses love differently.” His mother says, before reaching up a hand to place over his heart. He looks at her, at the warmth in her eyes as her next words resonate within his mind.

“Love can be big things, and it can be little things. It can be complicated, and it can be easy. You’ll find your own definition of it one day, and your dad and I will be with you every step of the way.”

***

“I can’t wait to sleep for a decade.” Carlos groaned, toeing off his shoes before stumbling across the entranceway towards the stairs, regretting not building an escalator instead when he had the chance. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and a bright laugh that never failed to make his heart skip a beat echoed in his ear.

“That’s a coma, sweetheart, not quite something I support. Experience, and all that.” TK mused, squeezing the skin just above his hip in admonishment and making him jolt. He turned a glare to his boyfriend, who was just looking at him innocently.

“You’re not funny,” Carlos grumbled as they slowly made their way up the stairs. Technically, TK was practically dragging him up the steps since he could hardly register where each step began and ended but minor details.

He didn’t need to look up to know that TK’s eyes were shining with amusement, lips curled in a wide smile with its edges softened by affection. “I’m actually very funny, you’re just grumpy when you’re tired. And on the verge of a fever.”

“Am not.” Carlos huffed petulantly, which probably just further proved TK’s point, but the latter wisely chose not to comment on it. They reached the last step and Carlos made a beeline for his bed, flopping down face-first into the soft sheets, legs dangling off the edge, humming appreciatively.

Soft and warm, perfect after a horrendously long shift with a persisting headache.

He didn’t bother moving when hands gently lifted the rest of his body to lie on the bed, the very same hands then reaching underneath him to try and undo his belt.

“You’re going to have to do all the work,” Carlos mumbled; eyes still shut tight. TK snorted, the hand stopping their administrations to swat his thigh lightly.

“I’m trying to make sure you sleep more comfortably. I’ve done my fair share of passing out in uniform and the morning after is never pretty.” TK has successfully removed his belt now, and Carlos half-heartedly lifted his hips to help him tug the pants down. “In fact, there was one particularly memorable moment where I almost stabbed myself in the leg with a belt buckle.”

Carlos was suddenly a little more awake than before, mustering the last bit of his strength to look at TK incredulously, turning over on his back. He ignored his head protesting loudly at the movement.

“I’m going to need a full version of that story when my brain can process more than 5 words a minute.”

TK shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ll never hear it because you’ll forget this ever happened when you wake up.” He finished yanking his pants off and moved to fold them neatly in half over a hanger and placing it on the door hook. Carlos watched him through hooded eyes, absently going along with the motion of changing his shirt before shifting up to lay his head on the pillow.

“So, sleep-related injuries from passing out in work clothes. Another thing to cross off your bucket list.” Carlos gladly accepted the swat on his leg at that.

“One more word about this and I will go sleep on the couch,” TK warned jokingly, walking to the closet and pushing aside some of their clothing. They haven’t made it official yet, but Carlos already had a key – a permanent one, not a spare one that TK currently donned – prepared hidden in his gun safe waiting to be given, and the closet once only filled with his clothes began filling up with their clothes.

“Wha’re you doin’?” He asked blearily, already feeling himself pouting at the lack of warm boyfriend next to him.

“Looking for-ah, here it is.”

TK pulled out another blanket, the one that his mother had knitted for him when he was younger, and the only thing he could tolerate to be wrapped around whenever he was feeling under the weather.

Well, one of the only things.

He watched as TK gently tucked the blanket around him, seeing the familiar smile that lights up his face whenever he sees the design stitched on – a Gemini sign that stood out proudly among a sea of stars. He remembers mapping out imaginary constellations with his fingertips when he was younger, dreaming of what the stars would feel like underneath his touch – if the galaxy could be grasped within the palms of his hands.

“You mentioned the last time that your body temperature tends to go haywire when you aren’t feeling well, and that this was the only blanket you could tolerate,” TK says softly, and Carlos closes his eyes as the back of a cool hand felt his forehead.

“When did I say that?” Carlos mumbled, the haze of sleep threatening to take over, but he pushed himself to stay awake to hear the answer. TK shuffled some things around in the bed before sitting down, back against the headboard. Carlos didn’t hesitate to roll over towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his face into his stomach, nuzzling into the soft warmth. He heard a fond chuckle, and smiled when featherlight fingers gently stroked his hair.

“I’ll tell you later. You should get some rest.” TK leaned down to kiss his forehead, the awkward angle not deterring him the slightest as he pressed another kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to stay.” The words came out a little garbled, and Carlos wasn’t sure if TK had heard him at all. He didn’t want to make TK stay with him when he could literally be doing anything else other than sitting with him while he slept off the fever. His arm seemed to protest at that thought, though it could also be his exhaustion at play when he didn’t pull it away from its spot around TK’s mid-section.

There was a pause, before the blanket was tucked around him even tighter, an arm wrapping around him to pull him in further.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

A million butterflies danced to that, fluttering about inside him as he tried to tamper down his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t stop the lovesick smile even if he wanted to, tilting his head down to try and hide it.

“Plus, who’s going to wring cold towels and change them for you when you wake up? And make sure you actually eat something? Gotta put my paramedic privileges to work somehow.” Carlos grumbled incoherent words at that. Just because he was a living zombie when he was sick, and his whole body ached so badly he could sometimes hardly make it out of bed, let alone make anything to eat…

He’s been taking care of himself alone for years. And realistically, he knew he would be fine if left to his own devices.

“I’ll wait on you, hand and foot.” The words were light, teasing, reminding him of the heated debate they had the other night. There had been some history program playing in the background, and both of them had made varying sounds of contemplation when that particular phrase was said, sparking their usual bickering over the true meaning behind those seemingly innocent words.

This time, the words also carried a pleasantly heavy weight that settled in Carlos’ chest.

He could feel a stinging building up behind his closed eyes, his feelings always a tad bit of a mess when he was sick. They’ve already said the words, and the fact that they loved each other was ingrained in his mind and heart.

But there were also times like this, when Carlos wanted to grab the nearest jar and store the overwhelming love that was spilling out ardently. He wondered if the jar would feel as warm as he felt, what colour it would be, or if there would be enough space to fit it all.

It was times like these, that he would think,

Oh. There you are.

I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

***

One of the things they’ve agreed upon in the early stages of their relationship, was that TK was not to be allowed anywhere near the kitchen or sharp cooking utensils unless there was appropriate adult supervision and two (working) fire extinguishers within five feet. There were one too many incidences where Carlos could practically feel his heart ripping out of his chest and plopping onto the floor, stripping decades off his life.

So, when he comes home to wondrous spices assaulting his senses, he briefly wonders if he accidentally opened the wrong door.

He had been pulling a double when one of his co-worker’s wife went into labour, and he had messaged TK earlier about not knowing when exactly he’d make it home. He had expected to come home to dim lights and silence, thinking his boyfriend would have already gone to bed but he was taken off guard at the lights shining brightly in the kitchen and the soft background music playing from his speakers.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him alerted TK of his presence, and he was greeted with a smile that had his eyes crinkle happily at the sides.

“Hey, you.” His arms automatically spread apart to wrap around his boyfriend, laughing breathlessly at the way TK practically launched himself at him, trailing kisses up his neck.

“Missed me?” Carlos teased, leaning in for a few quick kisses before tucking his face in the crook of TK’s neck, his favourite spot to just breathe and take his boyfriend in after a long day. There was a heavy sigh in response, before he was met with a pair of eyes he never tired of losing himself in.

“It’s nothing new. I start missing you the second you leave our bed in the morning.” TK admits quietly, biting his lower lip nervously as if he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud. Carlos feels the familiar warmth spreading through him, and reaches up to gently pry his bottom lip free. He leans in to gently kiss the tip of his nose.

“Something smells amazing.” A welcome subject change, one that Carlos knows TK is grateful for, and he watches as his lips spread into a slow smile. Tugging on his hand, TK leads him towards the kitchen counter where various bowls of food were laid out.

“Everyone at the station has been giving me lessons. I thought Nancy was scary during training, it’s nothing compared to how she commands the kitchen. Even Paul was terrified but impressed.” TK was laughing as he continued on with a particularly hilarious incident that he repeatedly insisted was not his fault, but Carlos couldn’t help but be distracted by something scraping against his palm.

He looked down to see bandages covering the majority of TK’s fingers, looking like he had just left a particularly bad boxing match. All of his fingers had some sort of wrapping on it, most of them at the tips reaching just above the second knuckle, and a bulkier one on his right ring finger.

He looked back up to see TK smiling brightly without a care in the world, as if his hands weren’t completely covered with the scars of his labour. Not a single finger had been spared, and Carlos swallowed back the lump growing in his throat at how happy his boyfriend looked.

“Grace even swung by to indulge me in her family’s secret chilli recipe. We kind of went all out today in the kitchen, and everyone had enough to feed their entire family and their neighbours,” TK chuckled at the memory, picking up said bowl of chilli and holding it out to Carlos, a carefree grin painted across his lips. “I told them you were pulling a double, and how I wanted to take care of the cooking for tonight. They were more than happy to give me tips.”

Carlos stared at the bowl in front of him, then at TK’s radiant smile, blinking against the mist clouding up his vision. The whiteness of the bandages contrasted sharply against the brown wooden bowl, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss each and every single one.

Some days, the love he feels for the man before him is overpowering, sparking life in every single motion and touch. Other days, it’s warm and light, just like the perfect summer breeze flowing by in passing, or the sight of the sunrise ascending over the horizon. The gentle waves splashing by his ankles in a soothing beat.

Today, he’s filled with an ache he can’t quite describe. It’s an ache that he wants engraved into his very bones – an ache that he wants to re-live for a long, long time.

He wondered if it was possible to be numbed by pure happiness, not knowing where the tingling feeling in his body started or ended.

Blinking a couple of times to anchor himself to the present, Carlos looked up to see TK’s worried gaze trained on him, the bowl of chilli sitting back on the kitchen counter.

Had he zoned off for too long?

“Judd, Mateo and Marjan sampled everything to make sure they were edible.” TK bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. His hands were twitching imperceptibly, as if he was itching to wring them together but remembered the bandages at the last second. The almost frantic look in his eyes made Carlos shake out of his stupor, and he reaches forward the cup the back of TK’s neck with one hand, running his thumb soothingly along his nape.

“Baby, this is…” Carlos trails off, the ache in him pulsating the more he looked at the culinary production around them.

He feels truly lucky to have TK in his life, and the rest of his found family with the 126. It startles him sometimes, how he’s been living fine on his own for twenty-six years before TK came into his life, but now that he’s gotten a taste of what it was like to have an extra splash of colour, he wants to continue painting the world with all the newfound hues.

“Extra? Over the top? Too much?” TK rambled, and Carlos shook his head, meeting his gaze straight-on.

“Amazing.”

He knows he sounds a little breathless, but TK seems to lighten at that, his nervous smiling relaxing. He silently obeys as TK gently guides him to one of the dining room chairs, arranging him around a little so that he was sitting, facing the gleamingly empty (for now) tableware.

“What would you like to indulge in first, my liege?” TK says playfully, hands kneading into Carlos’ shoulders to relieve the tension from a long day at work. He could feel himself grinning, reaching up a hand to cover one of TK’s, his thumb brushing against the bandages.

“You have been watching way too many historical dramas.” He mused, humming in approval as nimble fingers dug deeper into muscle, alleviating the residual tautness.

“There are only so many episodes of Grey’s I can handle watching without yelling at the medical inaccuracies. House is alright, but the way he treats patients would give him a lifetime of lawsuits he would never be able to climb out of. That in itself could be a whole series.” TK snorts, leaning back to plate some of the food. Carlos tipped his head back to watch him, already feeling his stomach yearning for everything his boyfriend was currently stashing onto his plate.

“I thought the point of watching those shows as a first responder is to enjoy the imperfections.” Carlos smiles fondly as TK lets out a quiet curse when a small piece of potato rolls off the plate, reaching out to grab a napkin to quickly wipe the spot on the counter.

“Pot meet kettle. You forget I watch Chicago PD with you, babe. I’m pretty sure I could recite the entirety of the Austin PD manual and 10-codes off the top of my head just from your heartfelt soliloquies every time they do anything.” TK shot him an unimpressed look, though the wide grin gave away his amusement.

He could feel himself pouting, not liking how true that was. “Yeah? Then what’s a 10-39 then?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, knowing he asked the wrong question when a predatory grin split across his boyfriend’s face.

“Something we both have abused in our professional duties,” TK smirked, walking over to place his plate in front of him before settling down at the seat across from him with his own plate, unconsciously linking their ankles together underneath the table.

“Uh, no. I haven’t. I think I would have noticed.” Carlos furrowed his eyebrows, growing more confused at TK’s quiet laughter.

“When I complained about traffic in Austin? And you very sweetly asked for a second round and offered to drive me to work with the light bars and sirens? Ring a bell?” TK wiggled his eyebrows, and Carlos makes a sound of protest.

“That doesn’t count!”

“You still offered. Which definitely counts.” TK chooses that moment to pick up a piece of lettuce to stuff in his mouth, effectively ending the conversation. Carlos rolls his eyes.

“That’s just cutting corners.” He huffs, stabbing into one of the potatoes purposefully, ignoring TK’s foot knocking against him. Conversation lulls for a while, and the more Carlos digs into the hearty meal before him, the more his skin tingles, kindled with warmth.

He reaches forward to squeeze TK’s hand, who in turn looks up at him curiously.

“Thank you. For all of this. It’s… I really appreciate it.” Carlos stutters, the overwhelming wave of emotion sweeping over him again as TK simply gives him that smile. The one smile that always seemed to be reserved for him – a smile he felt privileged to witness, and the smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of their lives.

“I can’t take all the credit,” TK’s smile is fond, no doubt remembering all the antics the entirety of the 126 were subject to earlier that day. “It was a team effort – I’m just glad it turned out alright with minor mishaps.” There was a sheepish look on his face, and Carlos notices how he’s picking at the heavier bandage on his right ring finger. He reaches across the table to take the hand gently in his, lifting it up to tenderly press his lips against it while their gazes were still locked on each other. There was a hint of pink that coloured TK’s cheeks at the gesture, making him smile against the hand still pressed to his lips.

“Minor mishaps, huh?” He remarks absently, but doesn’t push any further. TK curls his hand tighter to squeeze his before pulling back slowly.

“I added some more things to our Netflix queue. Want to call it a night and continue to preach about inaccuracies in medical and police dramas with me?” TK tilts his head invitingly, his eyes shining with mirth, and Carlos just wants everything with him.

“I’ll get the popcorn.”

***

Leave work at the door.

That’s what his father had always done when he was growing up. All talk of casework, of work stress, were almost always shed like a layer of skin when he came home, a wide smile present on his lips as he lifted him up into a hug and gave his unruly curls a fond ruffle.

Which was why he was currently still at the station at 10:34pm, finishing up the unexpected paperwork that couldn’t wait when they had been called in to a tip just before his shift ended.

Sighing in both exhaustion and frustration, Carlos glared at the offending words in front of him, his pen tapping restlessly against the table as he chewed on his lower lip.

He had promised his little boy that he would make it home tonight to finally watch the new Disney movie together as a family, maybe even build a pillow fort. Now, that promise felt like a scar etched upon his heart bleeding through his every thought as he tried to focus on the papers in front of him.

Their schedules would start being asynchronous again tomorrow, and although it made it easier so that one of them could always be with their son when the other was on a shift, Carlos missed his husband. He missed coming home to more than just a passing kiss as the other left for their shift, he missed going to bed with a warm body to wrap around him, he missed seeing that smile he’s loved more and more every single day for the past seven years for longer than five seconds.

They tried to have at least one evening a week to just be husbands, to spend time with their son together as a unit, but the case he had been working on for months finally had a breakthrough and they hadn’t gotten proper family time for close to a month.

It was times like these that he didn’t get the usual satisfaction of seeing the nameplate Detective Carlos Strand-Reyes on his desk.

“That’s a very impressive scowl you have going on there, detective.”

Carlos almost falls out of his spinning chair at the amused voice speaking lowly in his ear and spun around abruptly to see TK grinning at him, their three-year-old son Micah in his arms giggling happily.

“Papa!” Micah’s ecstatic voice echoes through the almost-empty precinct, and Carlos immediately catches him in his arms when his son practically launches himself into them.

“Micah! TK, what –” Carlos was a little lost for words, but tampers down the confusion when Micah squishes his cheeks between his tiny hands, grinning broadly. He was sure if his partner hadn’t left to grab them another coffee, she would be taking pictures to last her a lifetime.

“Have gift!” Micah declares proudly, his legs shuffling excitedly as he sat down more comfortably in his lap, and Carlos tips his head up for a quick kiss with his husband before looking at TK questioningly.

“Our son didn’t like how you would be spending movie night alone doing work,” Carlos couldn’t help a laugh at TK’s terrible impression of their son. “So, we decided that since you couldn’t come to us, we would bring family to you.” TK’s expression softened at the end, and Carlos could see how his eyes were taking him in fully, his own eyes doing the same.

He notices his partner arriving back to the precinct then, pausing in the doorway of their shared office. Her eyes lit up with understanding, sending him a quick wink before mouthing out a ‘more for me,’ and gestured to the two coffee cups in her hands. She lifted one of the cups as if in cheers, and quietly slinked away to take a break elsewhere.

Carlos mentally noted to send her a gift basket sometime.

“But you were looking forward to watching the movie.” Carlos looks at his son, and Micah frowned up at him, looking at him like he had suddenly grown two heads.

“Moo’ night is moo’ night ‘cause we all there. Papa, daddy, me. Two…two…” Micah furrowed his eyebrows as he tries to remember the word and TK gently cuts in.

“Together, sweetheart.”

“Together!” Micah repeats louder, and Carlos kind of wants to cry.

TK lifts up a plastic bag between them, and he knows exactly what’s in there when Micah’s eyes light up mischievously.

“Really, Strand?” Carlos deadpans, a smile twitching on his lips at TK’s indignant pout. “A sugar rush near midnight?”

“It’s Strand-Reyes. I didn’t marry you in the pouring rain with a broken foot just for you to neglect the second half of my name. And some occasions require processed sugar no matter what time it is.” TK says softly, and Carlos is momentarily taken back to that memorable day five years ago, where everything that could have gone wrong actually did go wrong, as if testing their brush with fate.

But in the end, love won. Which meant come hell or high water, they would be standing on that altar, no matter how many hours they had to stay at the hospital afterward in lieu of their planned honeymoon.

When he looks up into TK’s eyes, he could tell his husband had been thinking the same thing, and they shared a private smile.

“It’s chocolate.” TK grins, wiggling the bag enticingly as if his favourite flavour would make him cave, when he in fact had already caved a long, long, time ago.

“What a coincidence. I have French vanilla.” Carlos smiles as TK looks at him knowingly. He had let it slip once that he always kept a batch of French vanilla ice cream, TK’s favourite, in his private minifridge in the office ever since that night a couple of weeks into his new detective role when TK had come into the precinct soaked to the bone and on the verge of tears.

The news was never kind, and his fiancé had to find out through the grapevine that there had been a nasty altercation with the case he had been assigned to and immediately ran out of their house to search for him when he didn’t answer his cell phone. It was somehow the only thing they had at the precinct that day, and TK had stayed beside him for the rest of his shift, occasionally taking bites of the ice cream and cuddling close.

Now, the particular flavour of ice cream served more as both of their comfort food whenever they wanted to feel each other’s presence during a long shift, and sometimes just seeing the familiar packaging immerses him in comfort.

“Papa get break?” Micah’s question pulls him out of his thoughts, and he kisses the top of their son’s curls, smiling affectionately.

“It’s a good thing I have spoons, then.” Carlos pulls out the drawer meant for miscellaneous things, and takes out three plastic spoons from their packaging. He also reaches into the fridge to take out the container of ice cream, with TK doing the same with the two chocolate flavoured ones in the plastic bag. His husband passes one container to each of them, graciously accepting the one in Carlos’ hands extended to him before hopping on to sit on his desk.

“Papa happy?” Micah asked between spoonfuls, and Carlos hugs him tighter against him, leaning his cheek against the back of his head. He looks up at TK who’s watching them fondly, and he has a sudden urge to hug them tightly and never let go. He leaves that for when they all finish their midnight treats, instead reaching out to squeeze TK’s leg and kiss his son’s cheek, feeling lighter than air.

“I’m always happy when I’m with the two of you.”

***

Years of laughter, hours of tears. Days of contemplation, millions of joyous occasions.

And you were in every single one of them.

“We are getting too old for this.”

TK makes a sound of disbelief, turning to shoot him a glare that’s just as piercing as they had been in their younger days, his green eyes sparkling with life.

“Says you, Mr. I’m-seventy-four-but-can-still-lift-double-your-weight. Age shaming will not be a thing that gets between us.” TK scowls, and Carlos laughs at the way the wrinkles that came with age and years of laughter and joy deepened. His husband’s hair was now almost completely grey, matching his own, and yet…

Tyler Kennedy Strand-Reyes was just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on him.

“My hips are already protesting, and you haven’t even asked me to stand yet.” Carlos mused, laughing as TK extended his hand to him then, looking down at him in exasperation. The dim light from the fireplace lit up his husband’s features in flashes of brief memoirs, with each passing of the flame’s light echoing a different time in their life.

“And when have you ever said ‘no’ to me?” TK raises an eyebrow, his fingers wiggling in front of him, and Carlos touches the palms of their hands together, admiring how well they fit together, even after all these years.

“Plenty of times,” Carlos responds, even as he gets up all the same. Like two pieces of matching puzzles, they fit together effortlessly. The lulling chords to a song whose name was just at the tip of his tongue was playing softly in the background.

“And your hips move just fine,” TK murmurs in his ear teasingly, and Carlos could feel the wide smile against his neck as he laughs.

They sway together, both of them lost in their own worlds. Carlos closes his eyes as he latches on to this moment just like all of their many others through the time they’ve spent together.

“Feeling wooed yet, babe?” Carlos couldn’t hold back a shiver at the warm current of air brushing past his ear, squeezing TK’s hip at the knowing smile pressed against his shoulder. It never ceases to amaze him how far they’ve come since the beginning, never once letting go of each other’s hands, facing anything life threw at them as a team.

All these years, and Carlos still remembered the night that forever altered their futures crystal clear. Two imperfect souls, meeting in the middle. Willing to share each other’s worlds, learn each other’s purpose, and choosing to love through it all.

Shifting back slightly so that he could look into TK’s eyes, the beautiful green orbs that never failed to be filled to the brim with adoration since that night under the stars, Carlos smiles.

“TK, baby,” He reaches up a hand, cupping his husband’s cheek and feeling his heart stutter when he didn’t hesitate to lean into his hold. Tilting his head to gently press their foreheads together, Carlos revels in the tender warmth of their bubble of intimacy.

It’s with shining eyes as he continues.

“You’ve been wooing me our entire lives.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Fluff #A love through the years #Prompt fill #bellakitse

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hashtagartistlife · 4 years

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ichiruki greco-roman mythology au!!

- Kurosaki Ichigo as an ordinary human who loses his mom at a young age, a la canon - Kuchiki Rukia as the goddess of fate

- At seventeen, Ichigo goes to the local temple dedicated to the goddess of fate and demands she tell him how to alter fate so that his mom can live

- Rukia replies (through her priestess) that fate is not something that is so easily altered, but if he is determined, there is a long quest involved to prove his worth

- Ichigo agrees to take up the quest and sets out on his way

- Rukia, despite being goddess of fate, is quite fond of mortals who wish to defy fate-- she has seen many mortals attempt this quest before, and she's made a habit of disguising herself as a human woman to accompany them so she can see firsthand what drives them to want to rise above the destiny set out for them by the gods

- Of course, nobody has ever managed to finish the quest. (It's just as well, because the final step in changing one's fate involves arriving at the main temple of fate in Olympus, killing the current god or goddess of fate, and taking their place. Rukia didn't see fit to tell Ichigo about that part. After all, nobody has finished the quest in all her years of being goddess; Ichigo is not likely to be any different!)

- (Except Ichigo's Ichigo, of course he is.)

- So Kurosaki Ichigo sets out on the long and arduous quest to shatter fate and Rukia, disguised as a human woman, slots herself into the quest with him, occasionally giving him hints and guiding him in the right direction, and as with every other AU, they slowly fall in love, until-

- until Ichigo gets along further in the quest than anybody has ever done before, and Rukia starts to worry

- She didn't expect this. He's getting so close to the end. What if he really does clear the whole quest? What if he really does reach her temple in Olympus? Will he kill her? Will he be able to? She's seen the way he looks at her-- does she look at him in the same way? She didn't expect this. She didn't expect any of this-- Ichigo clearing the quest, the potential confrontation at her temple, all these feelings--

- She tries to dissuade him from the quest. She tries fighting, yelling, tears, persuasion-- but Ichigo's adamant. He's started this quest, he's going to finish it.

- And while she agonizes about a decision, they eventually come to the final and most dangerous step of the quest, just before her temple on Olympus

- Somehow in this last leg of the quest ichigo almost gets killed, and Rukia sacrifices herself instead without a second thought

- Ofc, she doesn't actually die, being a goddess and all-- the only thing that dies is the shell that she inhabited while she was pretending to be human, and she wakes up in her temple in Olympus, safe and sound-- but in that moment, she realises that she probably loves Ichigo enough that she wants to see him succeed in his quest, wants to see him change fate, wants to see him happy and triumphant-- even if it means sacrificing her life for it

- Having come to this conclusion, she waits in her temple for Ichigo to arrive, because by now she's seen enough of him to know he will succeed in clearing even this last hurdle

- Ichigo, meanwhile, just saw (or thinks he saw) Rukia die in front of him, for him

- He clears the final step in his quest in a haze of grief and rage and makes his way up the steps of the temple of fate, ready to throttle this so-called goddess of fate, whoever the hell she is, first his mom, now Rukia--

- and when he finally arrives at the temple, it's Rukia waiting for him at the altar, but cloaked in divinity-- there is no way to miss it. She's not human. She's a goddess-- and if she's waiting for him here, at the temple of fate, then she must be-

- he falls to his knees in front of her. Rukia steps up to him, wearing a smile.

- 'the final step in changing fate is killing the goddess of fate and taking her place.'

- She curls his hand around a holy dagger, and points the tip of it at her heart. For a second, Ichigo grips the dagger hard, presses the tip of it into her chest, but then his grip loosens and the dagger falls to the floor. Rukia looks at him, asks why--

- "When I saw you here," he says, "I thought-- I should feel betrayed. You lied to me the whole time, kept me in the dark, made me fall in love with you only to tell me that this is the final step in my quest-- was it all just a game to you? Something to pass the time?"

- Rukia starts protesting, that she might have kept him in the dark about this final step but that doesn't mean she didn't mean everything she said and did to him, that she really does want him to succeed and that's why she's offering her life--

- "But none of that mattered. I should feel betrayed-- I don't. The only thing I felt when I saw your face was relief. I was so-- so glad that you weren't dead, that you were still alive, that you still exist--and you think I'll be able to kill you? I can't. I can't, Rukia."

- Rukia, again, protests, tells him not to throw away what he wanted so much just for her, that she can't be the barrier to him getting his mom back and being truly happy, he can't choose her over his mom--

- except she's a moron. Ichigo doesn't even want to bring his mom back from the dead anymore. Sure, his family was torn apart in the aftermath of her death, but they all eventually picked themselves up and kept living their lives, as the living tend to do. They all healed in various ways, it was just him that was stalled in the past with his grief and guilt. Going through the quest with Rukia let him heal from the trauma of losing his mom and towards the end of the quest, he'd decided that, even if he managed to clear the whole thing, he won't ask to bring her back from the dead-- he just wants to see her again, one more time, to say sorry, before letting her go completely.

- And then Rukia died, and he cleared the last leg of the quest solely for the purpose of bringing her back. So how the hell does she think he'll be able to kill her? Rukia thinks Ichigo's just like... throwing away his life's purpose because of her when in reality, she'd been his new purpose and reason to live for a long time now.

- Ichigo tells her all of this. It takes some convincing, but eventually, Rukia comes to terms with it. And then she says, well, alright, fine. no fate defying today. But you did clear that whole quest, which is pretty impressive. I can grant you a wish for that. Did you want to see your mom again?

- And Ichigo says no, I want you.

- Rukia splutters-- you can't just say that, I'm a goddess, what does that even mean-- in what capacity--

- Ichigo: whatever capacity you'll let me have you?

- And then they fuck in her temple against the altar of fate! (Whenever Ichigo thought fuck fate in his younger years he didn't quite expect this outcome but hey, he'll take it.)

- ..... ok that last part is just in there for self-indulgence, doesn't actually contribute to the point of this AU. I haven't thought about how this AU actually ends, either - Ichigo probably becomes some minor god of something obscure and they both live on Olympus happily ever after or whatever. Not important. The main point i wanted to make with this AU was:

- Kurosaki Ichigo, local fate and destiny hater, being brought to his knees when fate comes to him wearing Rukia's smile, being unable to defy the fatedness of Ichigo and Rukia. Ichigo will fight tooth and nail against every other fate that the world presents him with, but when the universe shoves Rukia in his direction and says, here, she's your fate, she's your destiny-- he can't fight that, doesn't want to fight that. The concept that Rukia is the only fate he will accept. Great Concept! The end!

<IR AU: Fate and the Hero> FIN

#bleach #ichiruki #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #artist life #bleach art life #bleach fanart #IR x greek mythology #fate and the hero au

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evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn · 3 years

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5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

Chapter 2: Wasted Effort, Wasted Breath

Read on AO3 (Chapter 1)

Word count: 1363

Tw: Sooo much pining, Food mention, Remus shenanigans (Explicit nicknames, Explicit language, Human body limits being broken, Talk of gore)

Character’s: Logan, Roman, Remus (cause I love a supportive bestie)

~~~

"-pretty sure his favorite flowers are buttercups, but I could always ask... Are you listening to me Specs?"

"Hm? Yes, yes I am." Logan blinks out of his haze from which he was not listening. Don't get him wrong, he does usually enjoy discussions with Roman, but not really when he's making plans to help him woo someone he doesn't even like.

"Oh yeah? Name his favorite kinds of chocolates." Roman challenges.

"Milk Chocolate chips." Logan already knew that before, as he is usually the one to supervise Patton's baking to make sure he doesn't burn down the mindscape. Patton is always a chatty fellow, and Logan now knows pretty much his whole life story. He's used this knowledge before, gaining him a gold star on a family game night. (He has it pinned up next to all of Thomas's other academic achievements)

"Fair enough. I set the bar too low." Roman flops down on the bed, drawing a long sigh. As soon as Roman had found out about Logan's crush, he had dragged him to his room so they could get to the 'gossip' immediately.

At this point, after three hours, Logan is almost more annoyed than embarrassed. After the initial shock of realizing his infatuation, he's had the time to think about it and come to terms with his feelings. It helped that he was in the same room as the object of his affections this whole time, as he's been noticing all of the things he used to repress. Like how he really likes Roman's smile. He likes his prince charming smile, when he's overly confident about something. He likes his bashful smiles whenever he gets shy about something.

Really, he just likes Roman.

It feels very simple when he puts it that way. He can't believe it's taken him this long to find out.

"I think we should take a break from the input of ideas for now." Logan suggests.

Roman sighs and deflates further. "Ah, fine. I shall for now give up on setting you up with your one true love."

Logan stays silent. What? Just because he's annoyed enough to want to tell Roman doesn't mean he has an ounce of courage to actually go through with it. He clearly is all for setting up Logan with Patton, why would he like him back? Logan doesn't want to risk getting his heart broken, figuratively, right after discovering that his heart has been for Roman all along. Figuratively.

"Sooo, what kind of things do you like in Patton?" Roman asks, suspiciously calm and casual.

"I- um, well-" Logan fumbles for something people would find romantically attractive in Patton. "He... He's got... Eyes? And he wears clothes. I enjoy people wearing clothes."

Roman stares at him, confused. "... That's it? Come on, you've gotta give me something better than that Dill Weed."

Well, why not go for things he likes in Roman, he supposes. As Janus would say, every lie works better when rooted in truth.

"I think he's rather dumb," Logan starts off with. "Which should be a negative, but he's just so endearingly stupid. Every time he spews some nonsense, or does anything really, I just want to kiss him. He's also really creati- Kind. Very... Uhh... Sweet. I notice the effort he puts in to make others feel special. And make me feel special. Everyone is included."

"Do you... Like his puns?" Roman asks, half smiling, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Dear Newton, I hate his puns." Logan sighs solemnly. That draws a laugh from Roman, if only for a bit. "I do actually like his eyes though. The changes we experience in the mindscape are fascinating, and he's certainly been blessed, with those green, piercing eyes." He says, entranced, looking into Roman's wide, green, piercing eyes, that are looking back at him in shock.

"You mean blue?" Roman asks, oddly red in the ears and fidgeting with his hands.

Logan blinks out of his stupor. "Ah. Right. Blue. Apologies."

They both break eye contact, him looking around the very decorated room as if that would cure his embarrassment.

"You really seem to like him." Roman looks back to him, face pinched but still smiling.

"I do." Logan agrees, admiring the other. "I like him a lot."

"Well. Um." Roman stands up abruptly from the bed. "You did say you didn't want my help for tonight with the whole date ordeal. In which case, we shall resume the noble quest at a later date!"

"You don't want to talk about other things?" Logan asks, tilting his head. Is Roman okay? He looks pained.

"No, I think I'll be off. I have to go do other things. Like, water my.. Turtle." Roman ushers him out of his room. "So long, Geek Chic."

“... You don’t own a turtle-” Logan is left there, staring at the door. It's red with a star at the top center. Tasteful. Very Hollywood dressing room.

He clears his throat, and goes on his route to his own room. That shouldn't be that hard, since the only thing separating them is Patton's (He volunteered to move in between when both of them started arguing through the wall. It's strange because they live in a metaphysical space that only roughly simulates real life and therefore likely have an empty void in between the spaces of their rooms, but Logan suspects where he goes, more logical influence follows.), but fate has an interesting way of working. Or just Remus. Speaking of, there he is. Breaking through the ceiling and landing face-first with a splat in front of Logan.

Remus merely cranks his head 180 to look at Logan. "Heyyy Nerdgasm. How'd the romantic fucking go?"

"I didn't tell him."

"No? Are you scared?" He asks, in a mocking tone but looking concerned.

Logan's shoulders slump. "I don't think I'm ready enough to face rejection from him. Not to mention he seemed rather adamant about giving me tips on how to woo Patton."

"Aww, come on Logie. You can't give up now. I'm not allowed to tell you why, but you do have quite the chance of scoring that loser." Remus says, shifting in and out of existence until he's standing upright. He pats Logan's shoulder. "Now go, cause the next time you see me, you'll never hear the end of the teasing. Like, even if you rip off your ears! I'll still find a way to make fun of you." He cackles.

Logan dreads the moment they meet again. Now that both Remus, Janus and Virgil were proven right, not only will they brag amongst themselves, but they'll surely tease him.

Remus prances off, and Logan finally gets to his room. He takes off his shoes, because cleanliness is a good idea, and prepares himself for bed.

Staring up at his star-covered ceiling (Accurate to it's alignment of today, obviously), he realizes he still has a lot to process.

How did they all know and yet he had no idea? He knows he isn't the most intelligent when it comes to emotions, but come on, neither are most of them. Usually Virgil wouldn't know romantic tension if it slapped him across the chaps. Or maybe he would. He'd just be anxious and/or grossed out by it.

Logan realizes that he must have been obvious. He's sure that he's been caught glaring at Roman many times. And trying to be around him. And Janus is also a living lie detector.

He gets himself into a comfortable lying position, turning off his bedside lamp.

Will he ever tell Roman? He'll probably have to, or keep the feelings to himself for the rest of his existence, hoping they go away.

Which would be better? Sure, never confessing sounds like a tragic way for things to go, but what would be even more tragic would be to get rejected by him, and have to coexist for eternity afterwards. Would Roman avoid him? His heart clenches painfully at the possibilities.

Perhaps he's having cognitive distortions... Roman is rather considerate. If he were to let him down, he'd do it slowly and compassionately.

As Logan's conscience fades, he prays it will all turn out alright.

~~~

#logince #logince fic #logan sanders #ts logan #remus sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #tw food #oliver writes #5 Reasons fic

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

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What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 1: A Sense of Poise and Rationality

Summary: “What a beautiful wedding” says a bridesmaid to a waiter. “And, yes, but what a shame. What a shame . . .

Nothing bad happens here, I promise.

A/N: The music swells, the curtain lifts. Ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being: the show has begun . . .

Titles here are from Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins not Tragedies”.

Okay, so this one’s been a bear to write so this might be uploaded a couple chapters today and the rest over the next day or two.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Eric looked at himself in the mirror as Roman set the final touches on his hair. His dark hair had small braids with tiny beads designed to catch the sunlight. His suit was an off-white color and his wrists were decorated with intricate bangles that kept his nerves from activating his powers and setting things on fire.

Despite the suits and dresses and other formal attire all the heroes were still in their masks. Secrecy was still important and they knew the press would be nearby. The only exception would be Eric, who got glasses enchanted, courtesy of the Host, to protect his identity from anyone who shouldn’t know it.

“And voila!” Roman announced and did a little excited jump, spinning the chair marginally and holding up a mirror so that Eric could see the back of his head.

“Awww, you look so cute,” Patton told him.

“R-eally?” Eric ducked his head nervously.

“Positively radiant, my dear,” Roman boasted, his red dress swishing as he twirled. “Not an eye will be able to look away from you.”

Eric’s eyes widened fearfully.

“Nice going Princey,” Virgil spoke up from across the room.

“They’ll look in a good way,” Roman promised. “They’ll see you and realize that you are the most beautiful man in the world.”

“B-ut that’s Illy,” Eric managed to force out.

Roman paused to think on that, “Well I won’t deny that he’s obnoxiously good looking but now you can give him a run for his money.”

Randall walked in, “How we lookin’[1]?”

Twisting around the chair, Roman grinned as he motioned to Eric. “Marvel at this masterpiece. I dare say Da Vinci nor Monet could have done better.”

“Very handsome,” Randall told Eric, both childhood friends smiling at each other. “Just came from checkin’ on the other groom. We’re just waiting fer a final sweep ‘a the area to make sure it’s alright.”[2]

“Alright,” Eric said.

On the other side of the building, Illinois was fiddling with his bow tie as he checked his hair and suit in the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Illinois asked, his eyes moving to look at his adopted brother in the mirror.

“Nothing is amiss,” the Host told him.

“Marv still isn’t back,” Chase reminded. “I don’t like it. I haven’t heard a peep from him.”

“The Host spoke with Marvin, he is on his way back to the city with the Blade and the Angel of Death,” the Host took a seat. “While they will be late for the ceremony, Illinois and the attendants will find that they will arrive just in time.”

“Okay,” Illinois took a deep breath. He didn’t touch his lucky coin, he wanted today to be a good day. A perfect day.

He’d been trying to play his safe for months to hoard as much magic as possible. No adventures. No fights. Not even a card game with his siblings.

Because Eric deserved nice things. He deserved to be happy and safe.

After a while Dark checked his pocket watch, and Illinois walked out with him and the Host. The blind seer headed on ahead to wait with the other groomsmen.

Dark waited at one end of a long rug that led to a big outdoor gazebo with a dark wood roof. Chairs led up to the gazebo and had wooden structures protecting it from any accidental rain or glare from the sun. A matching rug was one that Randall would lead Eric down. The two grooms would meet in the middle and then walk up to the altar where Jackie, who had taken the online classes needed to officiate marriages.

The Entity paused, waiting for the signal from the organ that Dark could start walking. But he looked over at Illinois. The young man was looking around, his hand reaching into his pocket and resisted trying to pull out his lucky coin.

In the demon’s mind he thought of little Illinois, barely at chest level, with wide eyes that hungered for adventure but a body too small to take him there.

Dark had never liked thinking about how big Illinois had gotten. It reminded him that Illinois would walk out of his life and become his own person. It’s just . . . it had all been so wonderful while it lasted.

Illinois looked over at Dark and smiled. “Hey, 아빠[3].”

“Illinois,” Dark answered, trying to keep Damien quiet and invisible. Dark had to keep his hands to himself and his feelings out of the way. This was all for Illinois. He took a second to take a deep breath and schooled his features. “I’ll have your portion of the city ready for when you get back.”

“What?” Illinois asked, mostly in confusion.

But then the music began and Dark was offering his elbow. Illinois took it and promised himself that when he could pull Dark away again they’d talk. He didn’t like the tone Dark had taken when he’d said that.

Illinois and Dark stepped in time to the music and all too soon he saw Eric, his hands gripping onto Randall’s arm. He almost tripped when his eyes met Illinois’s.

Then all too soon, they were within arms reach. Illinois reached out to take Eric’s arm and they walked up. To Illinois, Eric looked like an angel he’d somehow snagged out of the sky and convinced to stay with him.

They walked down the aisle and Illinois kept the pace slow so that Eric wouldn’t have a single problem walking down the aisle. Dark and Randall followed them up.

Everything was going perfectly.

Illinois and Eric were looking at each other and Jackie opened his mouth to start the ceremony, when someone else walked down the aisle.

“I’m here!” Someone in a red tux announced. A smile as sharp as glass. “Shame on you, Damien, I almost missed the whole thing.”

Everyone immediately looked at the Actor, Dark got in front of Illinois as the young man was trying to push Eric towards Jackie.

“Get out,” Dark snarled in a furious growl.

“You’d done your job, step aside,” Actor snapped out a dark mass of aura and batted Dark to the side, the Entity slamming into the organ and let out a pained cough.

“아빠!”[3] Illinois called out. Yancy, who was closer, immediately raced to Dark’s side but the Entity shoved him away from both him and the Actor.

“I will admit,” Marc smiled as he waltzed down the aisle, “I didn’t recognize you at first. That’s my bad. But I did try and talk to you, and it’s quite an oversight not to personally invite me.”

Dark pushed himself back up to a kneeling position, his ringing shrill and aura coiling around.

“I didn’t invite you because you’re a piece of shit and you just attacked my dad, so fuck off,” Illinois snarled. He started trying to move over to Dark but the Actor slid into his path.

“Not possible,” Actor smiled, gesturing to himself. “Daddy’s here now and we don’t need . . .”

Actor glared back at Dark, “. . . to be worried about extraneous characters.”

“Get the hell out of here, I don’t want you anywhere near my family,” Illinois snarled.

“Oh, junior,” Marc smiled. “I’m trying to help you. Think of it: father and son. We’d take the world by storm.”

Illinois felt fury, thinking off all the foster homes and awful situations he’d been in, “Even if you were, you can fuck right the fuck off!”

Behind the Actor, Ranboo was trying to inch closer to Dark. He’d been sitting with the rest of the heroes. But he was trying to quietly summon up a portal to get Dark away from the Actor but when he inched too close the Actor spun around and slammed his aura into the young teen, knocking him back.

“If I wanted to take on the peanut gallery, I would have called you up,” Actor snapped.

“Enderwalk!” Virgil called out and raced over to him as the teen slammed against the wall of the gazebo and let out a grunt of pain. Immediately the room seemed to snap out of whatever haze they were in and moved as Marc moved to attack Ranboo again. Tubbo was already the closest.

Ranboo braced for the attack to hit but in the nick of time, there was a shattering of glass and Techno emerged from one of the eye portals. Shield and axe in hand he deflected the shot and blew a hole in the roof of the gazebo.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Techno smiled. “Come on, kid, I saw you using a weapon before, come on.”

“Boo,” Tubbo moved in as Phil and Marvin raced in.

“Anyone dead yet?” Marvin demanded.

“Bout time yeh showed up,”[4] Chase spat, pulled out his gun, a real one and aimed it at the Actor’s head.

Snarling in anger, the Actor exploded into black mist, making Chase miss his shot and nicked Illinois right in the face by accident.

Actor grabbed Dark and stabbed him with a dragged he pulled out of his black mist. “I don’t like being teased, Dames.”

With a slice, Dark screamed and the Actor pulled out a black day planner. “If you want something done right you should just do it yourself.”

Magic began to swirl around the Actor as bubbles began to form. They swelled in size and began to fill the room.

Bing began to visibly freak out and used his nanites to push Mini and Oliver away with his nanites, throwing them outside the gazebo just as a bubble expanded to snap up the rest of the androids.

In an instant the city rumbled and Dark . . .

. . . . . .

Dark woke up in bed.

He glared at the faintly glowing clock on the distant wall. It was barely a half-hour before he had to get up so there was no point in going back to sleep.

He smiled faintly when he heard Wilford snoring, the man splayed out to Dark’s left. The softer snores were from Chase who was cuddled up into Dark’s chest.

With a smile softening his features Dark decided: maybe he could sleep in a few more minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: . . . Okay I lied big time.

Accessibility Translations:

1. looking

2. Just came from checking on the other groom. We’re just waiting for a final sweep of the area to make sure it’s alright

3. Dad. Informal, read phonetically as: Appa.

4. About time you showed up

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #footnotes #eric derekson #illinois the adventurer #ahwm illinois #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #Darkiplier #randall voorhees #actor Mark #Actor Mark is an absolute diva #Ranboo #Ranboo being brave #magic #Ericilly #weddings are great

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cesabutterflywrites · 3 years

Text

Prince in the Storm: Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have. Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities. As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count: 6129

Chapter Warnings: none

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Roman woke up with his head at the foot of his bed, hugging his pillow, and his notebook open on the floor. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember dreaming. He definitely didn’t remember why he had drool stuck to his cheek. He rolled over to shut off his alarm on his nightstand. That's when it dawned on him.

He didn't remember dreaming.

He shot upwards. His heart was pounding. Was this a sign? Were he and Virgil on the right path? He hadn't believed that mumbo jumbo about Soulmate Magic and dreams when Joan told him in the beginning of the school year. When Roman talked about his weird nightmare that Virgil had started to play a small role in. Was that only 6 weeks ago?

But why would they stop when he finally felt comfortable around Virgil? What did it all mean? He really needed to ask Joan for those articles again. Maybe they weren’t mystical mumbo jumbo after all. He should have been paying more attention to them when he was obsessing over the nightmares in the beginning of the school year. After all, internet articles weren’t always unreliable sources, right?

Roman sat at his vanity mirror. His reflection had changed from what he’d been seeing for the past two weeks. He looked brighter. It was like the depressive haze since their first kiss was thinning. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. His eyes looked crinkled from the wide smile on his face as he gazed into his reflection’s eyes.

Humming a tune from Tangled, Roman combed through his hair. Linda didn't seem up to her usual antics. That rebellious strand of hair was actually laying down with the rest of his hairdo.

He looked...good. Not quite like his old self. This confidence was more...genuine. Happiness looked good on him. Is this what other people saw in him when he walked through the halls? A young man who just radiated the energy of sunny attraction? Or was this a new sight in general? Was he seeing himself clearly, or for the first time?

His hair was caught in a beam of early morning sunlight, bringing out the strands of gold and red that only appeared in the purest of lighting. He resisted the urge to blink as he inspected his eyes. Had the golden brown always been so rich? Was the sun just in a good spot in the sky shining through his window, or was he finally seeing himself the way he’s wanted to since he was a child?

Closing his eyes, Roman took in a deep inhale through his nose. He tried to remember that stormy night when Patton spoke with an anxious Virgil. Smell the rose?

He opened his eyes on the exhale. The morning so far tasted sweet to him. A beginning. A fresh start.

With bold proclamation, he recited his affirmations to his reflection. He sang

them to the tune he’d been using since he first came up with them in the eighth grade.

“ I am pretty

I am a star

I am an artist

I am perfect

I am a prince ”

When he had first written those affirmations down, Joan teased him because he used ‘Prince’ instead of ‘King’, like his last name. Roman explained it to them as best as he could. Princes were at the beginning of their journeys. Princes got to perform, they got to explore. He told Joan all those years ago that he’d change it to King when he was older and had enough life experiences under his belt. Or when he was ready to settle down with his true love.

Roman sighed as he remembered that day while getting dressed. He wondered if Joan actually did understand, or if they had just nodded to get him to shut up.

No, that wasn’t true. Joan was the only person who understood him. Even though by now Joan had probably forgotten about the affirmations. They didn't know he still did them five years later. It wasn’t something that really had a place in everyday conversation.

Half an hour later, Roman was pulling up to the student parking lot earlier than usual. That’s what happens when one gets decent sleep , he supposed. There were a few students milling about. The air was getting crisper. The summer humidity had changed to a fall humidity (the difference only noticeable to a long time resident of Parkwill, of course). Roman was glad he had decided to leave his jacket at home. Any rain that came wouldn’t be too bad. It would probably be more misty than anything.

He made his way to his first class on the second floor, English with an old man named Mr. Richardson. He needed to ask for an extension on his essay. He had been ignoring most of his homework in his depression since Virgil kissed him. He wondered how he’d be feeling after their date. Would he be in such a joyous high that he’d continue to ignore his studies? It was a worry for him. His deal with his parents was good grades as a trade for continuing theater. Briefly he considered even telling his mom that he had a date tonight.

Roman paused in the doorway of the classroom as the realization hit him. He was going on a date. A date! He was going to be taking Virgil on a date. That Virgil initiated! Virgil, distant Virgil, handsome Virgil, with a mouth that tasted like the heat of a summer bonfire and lips that felt like plug outlets.

Roman felt tears prick at his vision. Happy ones. Virgil had asked him on a date. Did this mean they were ready to move forward? No more nightmares?

No, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet. He needed to go slowly. He had always planned from the beginning that his soulmate would be the one to reveal himself, or Roman would after he was done with his travels. When he was ready to settle down. Also, just because Virgil wanted to go on a date, it didn't mean they were ready to jump into the thick of it. Roman needed to be patient.

Patience is a virtue, but I’m not a freaking nun or anything, Roman thought as he walked down the hallway.

Roman walked into the room with a strange feeling of electricity dancing over his arms. He looked at the desk his English teacher usually sat in during the morning. Instead of Mr. Richardson, though, there was his favorite teacher and a man he had only seen twice before, but had never been introduced to.

“Oh, Roman, you’re a bit early, aren’t you?” Mr. D asked. What was that look on his face? He was...smiling. He only did that when he was looking forward to something special.

“Uh, yeah, I got decent sleep.” Roman was eyeing the two men. He couldn’t help but feel off-kilter as the sparks continued shooting up his arms.

“Good, good.” The drama teacher patted Roman’s shoulder absently. “By the way, no rehearsal tonight. We all need a night to relax and regroup, right?”

Roman nodded. He knew that the teacher was implying something, but he didn’t know what it was exactly until he spoke up.

“Wow, Princey, you always look this good?” a gruff voice called from the back of the classroom.

That explained the weird feeling in his arms. “Oh, hi, Virgil!” He ran his hand on the back of his head, which most likely would wake Linda from her slumber. “Sorry I didn’t see you there...in the shadows.”

Virgil rolled his eyes as he walked forward. “Whatever, I’ll see you later.”

Then he did something Roman didn’t expect. Virgil embraced him, not even minding the awkwardness of the backpacks they both wore, and then kissed his cheek.

“See you at lunch, Roman.” Virgil winked at him before he left.

Roman was frozen from the weird pain/not pain feeling in his abdomen. He jumped at the sound of Mr. D chuckling.

“That’s the action I want to see from you when we get back to rehearsals. Pull on that feeling okay?” The theater teacher pat Roman on the shoulder again as he walked out.

Roman stared at the superintendent, who was grinning like he had just won a goldfish- or a freaking puppy-at the fairgrounds. What was that all about? Virgil must be scheming something, and the superintendent looks like he’s expecting something from me.

Roman did what he did best, he played it off cool before he died of stage fright.

“How rude of him not to introduce me to you, I’m Roman. Roman King.” Roman stuck his hand out politely. He hid his relief that the buzzing had stopped vibrating on his skin.

“Yes, of course, my nephew hasn’t always had the best manners.” The man shook Roman’s hand. “But that’s why you like him, isn’t it?”

Roman let out one of his ‘Noble Noises’, a name that Joan gave to the sounds he couldn’t help but let out when he was at a loss for words.

“Wh- I- ha-”

“Relax, Roman.” Thomas chuckled. “Mr. Richardson is going to be out for the week. Due to the lack of-” he clenched his jaw- “stability in this school, Principal Duke hasn’t set up any substitute teachers to be on our call list. I could have had other teachers work on their off periods to cover the class, but I have free time.”

“Isn’t being a substitute a bit below your paygrade?” Roman asked without thinking.

“I was a sub before I was anything else.” Thomas held his arm out to direct Roman to take his seat.

A group of students wandered in as the bell rang. Mr. Sanders smiled warmly at Roman. A bit too nice, as if he knew a big secret.

Jeesh, was Roman getting too paranoid for his own good? Or was he getting his hopes up?

Roman made his way to his desk, excited to see how the Superintendent of the entire district would teach. He knew that Mr. Sanders was taking the fall semester to exclusively monitor how Kingston High was improving, but he didn’t know that he’d be this involved. His reputation for caring about education seemed to hold more truth to it than Roman thought. Hopefully it meant that he'd leave the drama department alone.

The second bell rang. Mr. Sanders walked up in front of the whiteboard to write down his name. Not that he needed to, he did just introduce himself to the entire school just a short time ago.

Roman pulled out his English notebook. He was sure that Mr. Sanders would make them continue their assignments. Mr. Richardson had them working on learning about the various types of essay formats. The unit was difficult, especially since he wanted them to do three different essays in different formats as a way to show how well they understood.

Mr. Sanders’ demeanor had changed now that he was in front of the classroom. Roman recognized that shift. It was the type of body stance that actors took right before getting into character. The tension in his stance to fend off the stage fright.

“Hello class,” Mr. Sanders greeted. He sounded like a car salesman rather than a substitute teacher. “Mr. Richardson will be out for a week. I will be your teacher while he is gone.”

He turned on his heel to the whiteboard. He wrote out a phrase on the whiteboard:

“Soulmate Magic: Myth or Fact?”

Roman felt himself about to choke on his own spit. He hated the Universe sometimes. He had just been wondering about that this morning.

“Who here believes in Soulmate Magic?” Mr. Sanders asked the class while he drew out a chart of some sort on the whiteboard.

Roman felt his arm lift up without his permission. He hurriedly looked around the rest of the classroom. There were a few students also looking around with their hands in the air too. One guy in the back of the class was chuckling to himself.

“Mr. Flannigan, what’s so funny?” Mr. Sanders asked as he turned around.

The boy shrugged, causing his bulky headphones to shift on his leather jacket. “This is English class in high school ,” he emphasized with a sneer. “You can’t expect us to believe that fairytale bullshit.”

Roman and the others had put their arms down by then. If he had been asked this before meeting Virgil, he would have been on the fence. However, since the first day of school there were just too many coincidences and feelings and experiences he had noticed. After all, he did start believing the Dream Theory enough to go with Virgil to his house when they had barely known each other...and also kiss him that next morning.

Mr. Sanders didn’t even acknowledge the cuss word from the bold student. He looked amused. “I take it the rest of you feel this way too?”

The class all seemed to shift uncomfortably. Gabrielle, the girl who sat behind Roman, spoke up first. “It’s not that I think it’s bull, it just feels like something we say to kids.”

“Oh? Then do you know why Markings exist?” The Superintendent looked like he was holding information no one else had. Roman had a heavy feeling in his stomach at that look. His smirk was an older version of Virgil’s.

Gabrielle frowned. “No one does. They’ve been around forever. They’re just...something that’s natural.”

“Would you be willing to argue that point as passionately as Mr. Flannigan in the back?” Mr. Sanders asked.

Gabrielle blushed and looked down at her desk as a few kids snickered. “Well, maybe, I don’t know.”

Mr. Sanders went back to the whiteboard and labeled the columns he had drawn out. On the left he had written “Myth”. On the other side he had written “Fact”. Underneath “Fact” he started writing the names of some of the students who had their hands raised earlier. Roman felt sweat start to form on his forehead as his name was written in the “Fact” section.

As he wrote, Mr. Sanders spoke. “Your teacher was doing a unit on the different types of essays in academia. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the traditional thesis statement. For the first half next week you’ll be spending class time working in groups on finding research online supporting your side of the argument. We’ll spend one day in the school library looking for books as sources too. Then the second half of the week you’ll each write your own essay about why you think Soulmate Magic is or isn’t real.”

Roman sighed. Could he use personal experience as his only source?

Mr. Sanders had finished writing their names on the board. He uncapped a pink marker. He looked behind him at the class and asked. “Who here has met their soulmate yet?”

Roman gulped. He didn’t want to jump the gun. There was still a chance he was being set up for disappointment despite the other ‘signs’. Maybe this project would help him find the truth-or as close as he can get-about what the hell was going on with Virgil without actually talking about it. Obviously he'd need better sources than Buzzfeed's 'Six Signs You've Found Your Soulmate' article he had seen floating around.

Mr. Sanders put a pink asterisk next to the names of the students who had found their soulmates. There were a few on each side of the chart. Roman felt a lump in his throat. There were more people who found their soulmates while young than he had thought. That didn't help with the whole "not getting his hopes up about his career" thing.

They spent the rest of the class being assigned to their study groups. They were sorted into groups of four. Roman was assigned to work with Marissa Falcon, Andrew Harrison, and Mercy Fenton. They had changed their seating to make sure they were all sitting together. They had moved their desks to face each other close to the door.

Marissa was definitely excited about this project. Her tight red curls bounced around her face even when she was still. She was one of the students with a pink asterisk next to her name on the board. The only one in their group, actually. Meaning that she had already found her soulmate.

“So, putting aside the weirdness of the superintendent of the entire school district being here, can we just talk about how cool it is to learn about this?! Much better than what the old man was doing.” Her voice reminded Roman of bubblegum and the color pink. She was excitable, bright, and definitely had the glow of someone who considered herself an expert.

Roman was just glad he wouldn’t have to take the lead on the project. Maybe working with someone his age who had already found their soulmate would help him out with his personal life as well as give him an edge on his essay. The other two in the group barely participated in the rest of the conversation. He got the feeling that Marissa and he were the ones who were going to take the assignment seriously.

It was too soon that the bell rang for his next class. Disappointed, Roman packed his backpack. He waved goodbye to the substitute. Mr. Sanders gave him a smile in return as he pulled aside Gary Flannigan. Probably to talk to him about the cussing earlier in class.

Roman went to his next class. Thinking to himself, I hope this is a sign I’m on the right path with Virgil .

-------

“Jeez, Talyn, don’t tug my hair so hard!” Virgil griped. He was trying not to flinch as Talyn precariously combed the dye through his hair.

“Well, do you want me to be thorough or no?” They responded tersely. They were trying - unsuccessfully - to hide their smile at Virgil’s pain and suffering.

“Remind me to never let you dye my hair in a bad mood, Talyn” Joan snarked as they read a book at Virgil’s desk. The Chrome Borne was the title that Virgil caught.

It was weird, Virgil admitted to himself, to have his maybe-boyfriend’s best friend hanging out with him without Roman being there. Not bad, just weird. It made Virgil a little annoyed that he couldn’t have one on one time with Talyn as much anymore. Still, Joan was fun to have around. They were able to keep Talyn from smacking Virgil upside the head quite a few times.

“Don’t make me flick some of this on your stupid face,” Talyn muttered so only Virgil could hear.

“Why are you being so rough with my precious head? I don’t need a concussion on my first real date, Tal.” Virgil winced as Talyn purposefully tugged on his bangs.

“You can’t get a concussion from hair pulling, smartass.” Talyn responded sweetly. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll give me more time to prepare to do this. I know I’m magic but I’m no miracle worker.”

“Not my fault I’ve been busy!” he whined. “You don’t want me to fail classes do you?”

Talyn huffed as they clipped up the section they had finished. Their movements were more gentle now. “No. You need all the help you can get.”

“What does hair dye have to do with failing classes?” Joan asked. They set down their book and spun in the desk chair to face Virgil.

“Virgie has finally decided to take school seriously. So he’s gotta learn how to do homework for the first time.” Talyn was starting to trail off as they poured their focus where it should have been - making sure Virgil’s hair dye wasn’t fucked up.

He rolled his eyes. “What they mean to say is that Mr. Charles has been helping me after school twice a week to get my homework done. I’m in a stupid deal for the first half of the semester to actually try to be a good student.”

Joan’s eyebrows raised. “Never took you for a hard worker, no offense.”

“None taken, neither did I.” Virgil grinned. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Joan made a show of rolling their eyes and groaning. “How dare you burden me with trying to find answers to the universe?” They put their wrist against their forehead and leaned over the side of the spinning chair. “It’s so hard being an oracle. Haven’t you heard of google?”

Virgil and Talyn snickered. “I see where Princey gets his theatrics,” he remarked.

Joan immediately shot up, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at Virgil with mighty curiosity. “Why do you call him Princey? His name is King.”

Virgil shrugged impulsively, causing Talyn to flick him for moving. “I dunno. It slipped out one day and kinda stuck.” There was more to it than that, but there was no way he was going to give that information to Roman’s right hand.

“It’s just kinda funny to me,” Joan’s eyes looked lost in thought, “That you’d choose a nickname for him based off of his affirmations.”

“Roman does affirmations?” Virgil asked, surprised. “Isn’t that for people who don’t like themselves or something?”

Joan frowned at Virgil, and in a reprimanding tone said, “Not necessarily. Sometimes people do it to control how they view themselves. Sometimes it’s to remind them of their goals.” Joan sounded sad when they added softly, “Besides...Roman doesn’t exactly have a very high view of himself. He probably doesn't even know that I remember he made affirmations all those years ago."

Virgil snorted. “The guy’s got an ego the size of the Chrysler Building.”

Talyn paused their work and shared a look with Joan. Joan shifted in the seat, looking down. Their voice a near whisper, “Not really. He’s just a good actor, ya know?”

Oh.

“I get it now,” Virgil looked down as Talyn pushed his head forward. “He did seem really...hollow...after something-”

“I know what happened, Virge, you don’t need to go into it.” Joan didn’t sound like they had fake disinterest. They truly weren’t digging for information and wanted to respect Virgil’s privacy.

Remembering that fuck-up was hard for Virgil. It was still so fresh in his mind. “No, it’s okay, I want you to know my side.”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement. He told Joan about Roman meeting him on the bus, their walk home, the panic attack, the family dinner, Roman spending the night, the morning, the kiss, him running away, and the talk with Uncle Thomas.

Joan helped fill in some blanks for him, too. He heard about how Roman had been so distraught when he visited their house right after. Joan mentioned something about a song, which led into the trio getting sidetracked into Joan’s history of creating with Roman. It was nice hearing stories about Theater Camp. Hearing about Roman’s softer side was way better than hearing constant praise from people who barely knew him.

“So, what was your original question?” Talyn nudged while they put the shower cap on Virgil’s head.

Virgil thought for a moment. What was the question he had?

“Oh! Right! Hey Joan,” Virgil reached for his phone in the pocket from his jeans. “Could you tell me if Roman would like this surprise idea that I have?”

Joan took the phone that they were handed. Their face slowly grew more mischievous and they were laughing a creepy, sinister laugh by the time they were done with it. “Yes, yes he will love this.”

“Really?” Virgil asked as he stood up to stretch his legs. “I hope he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.”

Joan bit their lip in thought. Talyn sat on their lap in the small rolling chair, which creaked under the weight of them. Virgil just sat on his bed while waiting for their response.

“I think,” Joan started in a more serious tone, “that it’s a sweet idea. He’s always said that he didn’t want to know his soulmate before he was ready with an established career.

“But I don’t know, he’s changed a lot in the past two months. He may not be willing to commit to it no matter what you say. He’s been down pretty bad, Virge.” Joan started rubbing their finger up and down Talyn’s forearm while swaying back and forth. “I say, go for it. You’ve got most of it all planned out. I will say that if you go through with this, maybe prepare yourself for him to not be understanding of what you’re asking for. Because it is a lot.”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I’ll see how the date goes tonight. I don’t really wanna jump the gun, you know?”

Talyn got up to sit next to Virgil and rub his shoulder. “Your date is going to go fine. You already know he’s in love with you. You’ve just gotta clear the air on some things. This is a time for honesty.”

“And really, this surprise you’ve planned out, Virgil?” Joan giggled. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure this happens.”

“Yeah, watching you two dance around each other is better than any soap opera.” Talyn agreed.

The trio talked for a bit more before the timer on Talyn’s phone went off for Virgil to rinse out his hair. He rushed to the shower so he could be ready on time for his date.

Virgil was in the shower rinsing his hair when it hit him. Roman would be going on a date with him. It wouldn’t be just a normal date, though, but a chance for Virgil to be vulnerable about everything. He needed to come clean about his side of what happened. Especially hearing about how Roman was so empty after that first kiss.

The water was cold, which normally didn’t bother Virgil, but he found himself shivering at the thought of hurting Roman again. Was he ready to try? What if he was just doing this to make himself feel better? What if, when he explained himself, Roman thought he was toxic? What if Roman just couldn’t be with someone who won’t reveal their Marking? What if he fucked up again ? What if he can't open up after all?

Once the water was running clear in the tub, Virgil stepped out to dry his hair off with his “Trash Towel”. It’s the towel he used when his hair was freshly dyed. He didn’t want to ruin a bunch of different ones with leaky hair. This was a white towel with stains of all the different hair colors he had done over time. He probably should have replaced it long ago, but that meant ruining another towel again.

The sound of the hair dryer wasn’t enough to drown out his thoughts. His fingers felt numb as he worked on his hair. Once that was done he returned to his room to get dressed. Talyn and Joan were downstairs. It sounded like his dad was home and talking to them. That was good. He needed some time to gather himself for what he was about to do.

He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like he didn’t care either. He wondered if Roman would be dressed up all fancy for their first date. No doubt the boy was at his house fretting over what he’d wear. That image of Roman freaking out over what he’d be wearing comforted Virgil a bit.

Virgil was glad that Mr. D had agreed to cancel the club meeting for that night. He was a weird teacher. He kept his distance but it was obvious he cared deeply about his students, especially Roman. The few times Virgil talked to the mysterious teacher, he always held a fond sparkle in his eye when Roman came up in conversation. It was really cool of him to give special treatment, and as Virgil changed he figured that Roman must be really special to his teacher. Which was good, considering that he needed Mr. D’s help with his surprise later on if his date went well.

After Virgil was mostly satisfied with his appearance, he went downstairs to see that it wasn’t just his dad who was home.

Logan was sitting on his couch, with his arm over Patton’s shoulders. Patton leaned into Logan like he was relaxing after a long day. They were talking to Joan and Talyn. The four of them were laughing at something his dad must have said. Virgil felt his chest start to warm. It was such a natural sight, except for the empty loveseat in the corner. It was easy to see himself laughing along with them, with Roman’s head on his lap as they talked.

Hope swelled within him. Could it be that he could make this work? Maybe he wasn’t going to fuck up after all.

He walked into the room. His dad saw him and stood up to meet him. “You look so handsome, kiddo!" he squealed. The pride was so evident on his face. “My baby’s first date! So exciting.”

Virgil pretended to frown. “C’moooon dad. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.” He tried to not laugh.

Talyn stood up, playing along by stomping their feet. “Young man, I worked way too hard to make your hair perfect. The least you could do is let your dad take pictures of my masterpiece.”

Virgil lost his composure by then. Talyn calling him ‘young man’ was just the cherry on top. “Sure, go ahead!” he called out through his hysterical laughter.

Logan spoke up, nervously grinning. “I have my camera in my car. It would produce a better quality for pictures than our phones.”

“Need some help?” Joan asked excitedly. They didn’t wait for an answer as they made their way to the door. Logan just chuckled to himself as he left after the excited teenager.

“Talyn, don’t tell me your soulmate is a photography nerd! You hate taking pictures of yourself.” Virgil teased.

“Shut up,” Talyn grumbled, though their grin was noticeable. “Joan’s only got a passing interest in it. They haven’t asked me to be their muse or anything.”

Patton chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Artists are very serious about their work.”

“Dad, have you been modeling on the side?” Virgil asked. He wasn't teasing, but genuinely curious. That hadn't talked bunch about Logan or the galaxy tattoo since that fight.

Logan had walked back in by then and made his way to Patton. “Your father has a very symmetrical face, and when he smiles I want to keep it with me forever.” He kissed Patton’s suddenly red cheek.

Virgil noticed the way his dad stiffened as he waited for Virgil to react. It was weird to see another man lovingly touch his dad. He faked a reassuring smile to the pair. He didn’t want to think about the prickling in the back of his head. He needed to get used to Logan being around in a more casual manner. He'd have to get used to the fact that Logan was here to stay.

He made sure to put all of his focus into watching Talyn and Joan from there on out. He tried not to blink when the camera flashed in his eyes. He fought within himself to keep that earlier hopeful feeling from flying away from him. He wouldn’t let his pessimism win.

This night was about coming clean. It was about asking for forgiveness, giving context, and taking his next step to be a better man. It was about searching for compromise in good faith. It was for finding faith in the opportunity for fresh starts. After tonight, he’d be able to see a brighter future for himself.

It was when they were still taking pictures that there was a knock at the front door. Talyn let out a squeal that seemed out of character. Virgil raised his eyebrow at them, which welcomed another click, flash! from the camera. He walked away from the staircase to open the door.

His forearms felt like he was being pricked by static shocks all over when he saw Roman standing there, the beginning sunset behind him looking like something out of a movie. Virgil was speechless. He couldn’t think of anything flirty or sarcastic to say. Had it only been at lunch period that day he last saw Roman? He looked like royalty.

Roman had his hair combed back. It was a bit longer since he hadn’t gotten it cut, so his hair had some flow to it. He had worn a long sleeve button up with black slacks. The shirt was a deep red color, bringing out the hazel eyes and white teeth. He was wearing a small bit of brown eyeliner and mascara, nothing obvious, but enough to bring out the features of his face. The rosey blush that Virgil loved so much was starting to form the longer he stared.

“Um, I didn’t know where we were going, so I figured I’d make myself look nice.” Roman looked Virgil up and down. “I’m glad to know we had the same idea.”

Virgil looked down at what he was wearing. He had chosen his only pair of slacks -a gray pair that his grandmother got him for his birthday - and a deep wine-purple button up. He had chosen a dark gray necktie with black stitching to look like spiderwebs. Just to keep a little bit of his dark personality obvious so he wouldn’t feel completely out of his depth.

“Oh, right, yeah.” He responded lamely. His voice cracked and he felt like he wanted to shrivel up in embarrassment.

“I got you this. I hope it’s not too cliché or tacky for you.” Roman handed Virgil a single black rose. It was plastic, and the stem was dark purple with glitter. It was definitely something cheesy, but Virgil smiled anyway.

“Thank you, Roman, I love it.” Virgil heard his dad clear his throat loudly. He rolled his eyes. Feeling more normal now that his bubble with Roman had burst, he swept his arm behind him. “Come in. We’re just taking pictures as if it’s fucking prom or something.”

Roman laughed at that. “I’ll never say no to a photo op!”

Joan and Talyn gave hugs to Roman when he was in the room. “Looking as royal as ever, your highness.” Joan remarked.

"Wait, isn't Highness for a prince?" Virgil asked. "I always call him Majesty."

Roman chuckled. "Majesty and Highness can be either, depending on the situation. Majesty is more formal, and Highness is a sort of catch-all."

Virgil didn't have a good response to that. He didn't know anything about royalty and all that fancy shit. He was itching to go, but automatically he pulled Roman by his waist. "Let's get our pictures done quickly, I'm starving."

Roman and Virgil took a few pictures at the bottom of the staircase. Roman didn’t seem bothered by the blinding flashes. Virgil kept his arm tight against his date’s waist. After he felt he was thoroughly blinded, he ended the photo session. “Alright, if I want to be able to see Roman’s sexy face I need the flashes to stop.”

Roman whined behind him as he made his way to his jacket by the door. “But I wanna make sure all of my sides have been captured…”

Virgil just ignored him. In a rush to leave, he gave hugs to everyone except Logan, and walked out the door while Roman gushed his thanks to Logan for taking pictures.

The pair settled into their seats in Roman’s car. The silence was nice as Virgil adjusted to it after the noise of the living room. He looked at Roman nervously. He seemed relaxed. His handsomeness seemed never-ending. “Alright, Captain Cranky, you ready to go get some fancy food?” he quipped, too giddy for Virgil's own good.

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed. “Only the best for you, your Majesty .”

Roman chuckled. They pulled out of the driveway as Virgil plugged in the aux cord to his phone as if he had done it every day.

By the time they arrived at Marina's, Virgil had educated Roman with every song on the Welcome to the Black Parade album. They got out of the car laughing as Roman gave the keys to the valet.

With a warm blanket of joy between the two, they entered the restaurant to start the first part of their date. Virgil tried not to think about the nerves bundling up in his abdomen, or even consider the coincidence that his Marking was warmer than usual.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Fluff and worldbuilding? Fluff and worldbuilding.Thank you for reading and supporting this story. I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth everywhere, but for about a year now a family member of mine was getting sicker and sicker until he passed a few weeks ago. It's been a hard time, but he's at peace now & I feel like I can refocus my life.So, we're looking at an update every other month here. I don't want to promise more or less than that. I can say that I think about this fic ALL THE TIME and I want to just publish my rough drafts of the chapters and speed through it, but I know these boys love to take their time, so I will too.I hope you have been doing well, readers, and let me know what you thought of this chapter! And maybe comment your guesses on how you think the date will go ;)also, I have a discord server join for updates, bonuses, and talk with other readers!

@404-morality-not-found, @k1ngtok1, @lovelivingmydreams

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist for my stories

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killing-all-joy · 4 years

Text

Dancing at 2 a.m. in our Pajamas...

I was inspired by this prompt by @sanderssides-prompts that I saw two weeks ago. I write really slow, so here it is now. I strayed a bit from the prompt, but I hope y'all like it! It’s really just fluffy Roceit. [Edit: here’s part two!]

(cw: janus is a swear-snake so swearing tw)

Janus rubbed lazily at his eyes. He was beyond irritated—for some reason, his mess of a brain decided it would be a good idea to wake up after only three hours of sleep. It was two in the morning, it was raining outside, and he had a lot to do the following day. His brain was running on very little sleep, but despite the small number of things he was able to consider clearly in his mind, he knew that he would be unable to return to his slumber without a substantial period of leaving his room. He was very well aware that he had to reach a higher state of awakeness than he was at now to be able to go back to sleep. It would never make any sense to him, but he complied because he hated sleep deprivation.

He trudged over to his closet and threw on a yellow sweatshirt over his sleep shirt. Then, clothed in that sweatshirt, a pair of black sweatpants, and fluffy black socks, he sunk out of his room, deciding not to bother with his hat. No one would be in the kitchen anyway, and he had decided with a look in a mirror that his hair, while fluffy as ever, wasn't too horribly messed up from sleep.

He planned on getting a glass of ice water, watching an episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender at a very low volume, pacing the living room a couple of times, and then returning to his room to fall back asleep.

His mind seemed to only get fuzzier; Janus hardly registered his present actions in any shape or form. He walked into the blurred haze that was the mindscape living room, grabbing a cylindrical glass from a cabinet and clumsily sliding on the tiled floor over to the freezer. He opened the door, flinching at how cold the damn thing was for his serpentine physiology. He grabbed three pieces of ice and dropped them into his glass. One fell on the floor at his carelessness so he kicked it under the refrigerator and grabbed another to replace it. He walked over to the sink, and after three incidents of fingers slipping on the metal handle, turned on the water and filled his glass. He hissed and immediately turned off the water when it started to overflow.

He sipped the cold water so it wouldn't spill onto the floor and walked away from the sink, deciding to drink in the living room. He stopped short at the door-less doorway, finally realizing that against his predictions, there was someone awake at this hour and occupying the living room.

Of all people it could be, it was Roman.

Just his luck.

His brain could hardly register just how unlucky that was. Nor could it realize that sinking out would probably be the best thing to do in that situation. Roman, his old enemy, his friend (ish), his crush: hateful, annoying, funny, talented, lovely, handso-

"Hey."

Janus' sleepy thoughts halted. He tried to meet Roman's eyes, but likely failed because he could only make out the vague outline of a face. He tried his best to show acknowledgement, but was too tired to put much effort into it.

"Why are you awake?" Roman asked from where he was sitting on an armchair.

Janus thought about that for a second, his brain refusing to remember at this time. Eyebrows furrowed, he tried his best to retrace his steps. His eyes then fell on the glass in his hand, thoughts calming as they recalled. Janus held up his water glass to indicate that it was dehydration that woke him and then made a noise, trying to ask Roman the same question.

"Ah yes, dehydration: the more vicious demon in the early hours of the morning," Roman said with a strained smile. He then bit his lip, knowing Janus wanted to know his reason for being awake as well. "I, uh, couldn't sleep. Too many exciting thoughts, too little time...the price of being Creativity, y'know?"

Janus did know. Or, at least, he was pretty sure Fully Awake Janus knew. (Fully Awake Janus could not count the number of times he'd got up for a glass of water and ended up finding Remus setting something on fire at some ungodly hour. To Fully Awake Janus, it would follow that Roman would be similar in regards to insomnia.)

Janus made a noise of understanding, shuffling over to the sofa. He clumsily set his glass on the coffee table (the contents almost spilling as he fumbled with its placement) and collapsed onto the cushions.

“Are you sure that you shouldn’t go back to sleep, Boa Conflictor? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were sleepwalking.”

When he figured out what the nickname was saying and why it fitted him, Janus snorted. He shook his head to indicate a negative to Roman’s question. “Need water,” he mumbled, taking a sip from the glass.

“Makes sense,” said Roman, moving from the armchair where he was sitting to the sofa next to Janus. “But you should go back to sleep immediately after.”

Janus shook his head again. “Won’t be able. Tried, first need to stuff.”

Roman chuckled. “’Need to stuff’? We better get you stuffing soon, or else you’ll be speaking a whole new language.”

Janus huffed and rolled his eyes. He never appreciated being teased. He was too tired (and perhaps too in love) to be angry, however.

He continued sipping the glass of water, finishing it quickly with no more commentary from Roman. He set it back down on the coffee table, deciding that he would put it in the sink in the morning when he could walk and think like a normal human being (or, well, side). He pulled his knees to his chest; he always got cold in these early hours.

His plan was thwarted, however, when Roman stood from where he was sitting on Janus’ left, picked up the glass, and headed to the kitchen. Janus made a confused noise before he saw Roman place the glass carefully in the sink. When Roman returned, Janus looked up at him in confusion.

“Didn’t havffe, I could’vve mor’hing.”

“Surprisingly, I understood you there.”

“Thanmkh.”

“You’re welcome.”

Janus buried his head in his knees, wondering what he could do that wouldn’t disturb Roman. He figured the prince would be bothered by him watching TV (and also make a lot of comments on whatever he watched, potentially waking the others), so he pondered over other activities.

He heard music start to play quietly through the room. His head lifted slightly to see Roman set his phone down gently on the coffee table. His bare feet then took two smalls steps to stand in front of Janus, where he offered him a hand.

“You said you ‘need to stuff’ before you go back to sleep,” said Roman, sounding like he was trying to mock him but not fully getting that tone across. If Fully Awake Janus were here, he’d say Roman sounded nervous. “I figured, leading you in a dance could perhaps convince your brain to allow you to sleep. Besides, I could use some physical stimulation.”

Janus looked at Roman’s trembling hand for half a second. He then removed his left arm from where it was clasped around his legs and took Roman’s right hand. As soon as Janus’ hand was in his, Roman brought Janus’ hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Janus blushed furiously at this and was too tired to figure that he should hide such an obvious display of weakness. He let go of his legs and stood up from the sofa. He lost his balance from the position change, but Roman's reflexes were quick and he didn't let him fall more than a few inches. He pulled Janus to his feet and held him securely in his arms. Janus' face flushed an even darker red than it already was and he turned his head away from Roman, casting his gaze to the floor.

"Look at me," Roman murmured lowly.

Janus complied, despite not wanting Roman to see his blushing. He smiled warily at him, anxiety caused by the possibility of Roman seeing the real reason for his flushed cheeks.

"There we go," said Roman, at the same low volume. Janus noted how he wasn't as hyper or dramatic during these early hours, yet still just as passionate (if not more). "Since you need to do stuff in order to properly go back to sleep, I figured I could lead you in a couple of dances. Unless you think that you would collapse of fatigue like Sleeping Beauty...?"

Janus nodded. "Okay."

Roman grinned, tightening one hand's hold on Janus' waist and moving the other hand to hold Janus'. Janus was allowed a couple of seconds to sort himself into a proper dancing stance before Roman started to lead.

"I sh'ld lead."

"You'd walk into every piece of furniture in this room."

Janus made a wounded noise.

"Only because you've shown just how clumsy you are at this time of morning."

Janus huffed. "I'll st'p on foot."

"I can take it," Roman replied with a teasing smile.

Janus rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on Roman's hand and shoulder so he wouldn’t fall.

"Okay, JJ. One, two, three, four," Roman started counting under his breath to help Janus' walnut brain, "...one, two, spin, four, you're wonderful at this, Snakerella..."

---

Janus could feel his brain start to adjust to being awake and a bit of Fully Awake Janus start to have influence in his thoughts. Well, it wasn't exactly "adjust", because it wasn't gradual.

It was just a bit slower than a snap of the fingers.

Nothing was new in his actions, Roman didn't startle them, hell, it was during the middle of a slow song. But without any obvious triggering factor, his brain abruptly shifted into a more awake state of mind. And he realized his situation.

He was dancing...

...in the living room...

...with the love of his life...

...at half-past two in the goddamn morning.

Janus, still a far cry from Fully Awake Janus but with a lot of his mental capacities, couldn't quite remember the exact turn of events that got him here. Things were a bit blurry, events were splotchy, and he could only remember bits and pieces. So, ultimately, how he—while sleepy and filter-less—managed to get Roman "Princey" Fucking Sanders to dance with him was almost a mystery. He did know, however, that the only way Roman could have agreed was if he was extra sleep-deprived too.

"You like this song, Janus?"

He considered saying the truth, that he wasn't listening; or a well-thought-out lie, that he hadn't heard it before but thought it would fit with a playlist he had; or saying that he'd heard it before and liked it very much. But suddenly, Roman pulled him close and to his chest—and he smelled so good and his white sleep shirt was so snuggly and his hair was just inches away and oh so very soft and Janus was in love, so in love and he couldn't help but make a noise of happiness about their current situation instead of answering the question.

"I'm glad you like it."

Janus almost laughed; Roman mistook his noise for one of confirmation, also implying that he thought Janus was still in his state of Properly Out Of It. Janus had an act to keep up if he wanted Roman to continue being so intimate with him, so he decided he would play along—not more than he needed to, of course, but whenever Roman would prompt him to talk, he’d respond how he would if he had just woken up.

More songs went by, their almost-clumsy dancing that they exerted very little energy in doing continuing with it. Roman rarely spoke, but it was comfortable that way, with Roman just holding him as their feet glided across the floor with only the crescent moon as their witness. Janus knew very well that his emotions were senseless and cheesy, especially at this time of the morning in his current situation, but he almost scoffed when he realized that he felt loved—loved by Roman, and loved in a way he had never felt before. It made him feel warm and hopeful, and if he was fully awake, he would probably vomit. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant feeling no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, so he relished in it, soaking up the unfamiliar emotion he figured he would never get again and savoring it as one does with hot chocolate during the coldest winter nights. It was warm and calming, with an underlying hint of melancholy and bittersweetness. Just like how Janus perceived Roman.

Roman and Janus had differences that they were slowly putting behind them in an attempt to advance into a tentative friendship, so it made sense for Janus to think he would never get this again. He was tired, Roman was tired, and he remembered the dashing prince saying something about 'rousing thoughts' so this was probably serving as a release of all the stress that built up in the later hours. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal, but he would never forget.

The song started to slow to a speed that seemed inadvisable to Janus because the song was already quite a slow song in itself, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that the speed was romantic too. Roman's feet stopped taking larger steps and started swaying.

"Sway with me, mi cielo," said Roman in a voice that was practically silent. "This is the last song."

Janus' face burned from the Spanish nickname Roman gave him. Janus didn't know Spanish, but he was able to piece that it might have been a term of endearment. It was late, so it made sense that Roman would slip up like that, especially since he's the romantic side and their current situation was rather intimate. Of course, that assumption could also be Janus' wishful thinking.

"Thank you for dancing with me," muttered Roman, thumb starting to trace circles on Janus' waist. "I needed this outlet too."

From the way Roman phrased it, it seemed that Janus was mistaken in his assumption that he had convinced Roman to dance with him, that it seemed that things happened the other way around. This made Janus' heart flutter.

He hummed, closing his eyes. "M' ple'srre."

Janus peeked one eye open to see Roman's head turn down and smile at him warmly—lovingly, Janus would say, if he didn't know better.

The song started to come to an end. When the last beat played, Roman guided Janus into a small dip. Roman's happy smile as he stared down at Janus was hypnotizing, and Janus knew that he would fight a thousand wars just to see that smile again.

"Let's go to bed, hm? Neither of us wants to be tired in the morning."

Janus nodded. Roman pulled him to his feet and put an arm around his waist. They walked up the staircase together, Janus leaning his head on Roman's shoulder as they walked.

Janus' room was closest, so they paused there as Roman opened the door and led them inside. He kissed Janus hair and slowly removed his arm from Janus' waist.

“Goodnight, Janus,” whispered Roman, pushing a strand of Janus’ hair behind his ear.

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek. “G’nigh.”

He slowly closed the door, smiling to himself. He knew he would come to remember and regret his sleepy clumsiness in the morning, but he would be thankful for it until then.

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope you liked it! [Edit: here’s part two again so you don’t have to scroll all the way back up lol]

#roceit #ts fanfic #janus sanders #roman sanders #romantic roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #prompt #ts janus #ts virgil #swearing tw #kill writes #fic

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 6

Chapter: 6/8

Additional Notes: Fic published in full on my AO3, WizardGlick. This is my favorite chapter 😁

Chapter Content Warnings: Blood, respiratory distress

The record player was still in the kitchen, surrounded by puzzle pieces. Patton switched it on and watched the vinyl spin in a daze. He missed Roman's boastful chatter, missed Logan's even keel. Maybe he should just give up. They clearly didn't want him around, and at a certain point, maybe it was selfish to keep badgering them.

God, he was a mess. Virgil had been too tactful to say anything during last night's Ghost Adventures marathon, but he had kicked his feet up in Patton's lap, and that was telling. It wasn't the reassuring full-body contact he longed for, but Virgil had never been big on touch. He couldn't be what Patton needed, and that was fair. It wasn't Virgil's job to take care of Patton. It was no one's job.

Janus' voice sounded unbidden in his head, reminding him in a distinctly annoyed tone, ' It's your job.'

So Patton picked himself up off the kitchen island and opened the fridge. He liked the work of cooking and cleaning. The domesticity was reassuring and sweet and safe. He cooked and cleaned because he loved. He loved Logan, he loved Roman, he loved Virgil. He wanted to see them safe and fed and contented, free to fulfill their functions because Patton fulfilled his.

As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he wondered if he loved Janus. He probably did. How could he help it?

Janus' smile was a rare thing, and that much sweeter for it. And he was so clever, so self-assured, so determined to help. This whole time, that was what was driving him. He wanted to help Thomas the only way he could, and now he was helping Patton. Because… Because he was just good. Even if he, like Virgil before him, kept that light hidden behind walls of sarcasm and bitterness. Janus was good. And Patton loved him.

He had forgotten to turn on the stove. Patton smiled at himself, because what else could he do, and turned on the stove. As he stood there, anxiously eyeing his half-finished omelette, his fingers found their way to the friendship bracelets around his right wrist. He had two there, Logan's and Roman's. They were both made of soft embroidery floss. Roman's had a little charm, a small silver 'R' that sometimes caught the light and made Patton smile when he noticed it.

He and Janus should have friendship bracelets. It could go on his left wrist next to Virgil's. Virgil wouldn't be happy about it, but… But Patton wanted it. He wanted Janus to feel accepted and loved. And there was no way to do that and spare Virgil's feelings. There was just no winning and Patton wanted, wanted, wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything.. Would it really be so bad to indulge this?

After breakfast, Patton relocated to the living room and asked the mindscape's halls for Janus. Janus did not appear, but the fog of the subconscious at the edges of the walls solidified into a hallway. Patton got to his feet and started to walk. He had never really ventured into the space that Roman referred to as 'the Dark Side,' but there was really nothing foreboding about it. The halls were still well-lit, the carpet still plush beneath his feet.

Eventually, the hall opened up to a cozy little alcove. Janus was huddled up against the wall, staring into the depths of a pure black coffee mug. He flinched when he noticed Patton, then smiled.

It was a slow, unfurling thing: first sheepish, then courteous, and finally, genuine. It lit a fire in Patton's chest, made him feel like he was glowing.

"Patton." Janus tipped his hat, peering out coquettishly from under its brim.

"Sorry," said Patton, "am I interrupting?"

"Oh, yes," said Janus, getting to his feet, "I need to have my coffee in utter silence of the caffeine doesn't take."

He sounded a little hoarse. Patton felt himself cross his arms and draw back to examine Janus, but couldn't stop it from happening. His scales looked the same as ever, more yellow than green under the light, but both eyes were glassy in a way that indicated lack of sleep. He looked tired, Patton decided, but not sick.

"Did I button my shirt wrong?" Janus asked, not actually looking down to check. He kept his eyes on Patton.

"Is there something on your mind?" Patton asked.

Janus countered this question with another question, which Patton supposed was fair: "Did you come down here just for that?"

"Well, actually…" Patton tugged at the tight, precise braid of Logan's friendship bracelet. Why was this so hard? "I thought we could-- If you wanted to--" His nerves were taking over and he was helpless to stop them, couldn't control the way his voice trembled. He started over. "So, no pressure, obviously, but I just thought it might be nice if we, you know, made friendship bracelets together." Patton held up his forearms so Janus could see. "If you want."

Tears were forming in Janus' human eye; his chest hitched with uneven breaths. Patton was already raising his arms to offer a hug when Janus turned away and started to cough. Oh.

The fit, though it sounded terrible, ended quickly. Janus straightened, drawing a yellow handkerchief back into his sleeve like a magician. "What," he said, pretending to look at his fingernails, "are the odds of you believing that was nothing?"

"It didn't sound like nothing," Patton said.

Janus sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but I think that our dear benevolent prince might be a little angrier than he let on."

"You think Roman's doing this to you?" That didn't sound like him. He could be stubborn, sure, maybe even bull-headed, but it really wasn't like him to make someone sick. At least, not on purpose.

"It's not Remus," Janus said, crossing his arms. "There's nothing else wrong with me."

"It's just a cough?"

"Just a cough."

Patton tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. "Roman's not really talking to me at the moment--"

"Typical," Janus muttered.

Not wanting to fight, Patton let this go. "But I'll see if I can… Well, I'll see what I can do."

Janus nodded, then seemed to remember something. His jaw worked for a second, his eyes darting everywhere except Patton's face. "Thank you."

Patton nodded, still inexplicably afraid. Now was his chance to leave, since Janus hadn't acknowledged his offer. If he sank out fast enough-- But what exactly was he running from? He wasn't Logic, but he couldn't deny that it made no sense to run from something he couldn't even identify. "So, um. Did you want to…?"

"Where?" Janus asked.

The trapdoor to the speakeasy opened beneath their feet. Patton's door appeared down the hall. He and Janus looked at each other in silence.

"The lighting might be a little better in my room," Patton said finally. He wasn't sure which of them had caused his door to appear. The subconscious was tricky like that sometimes.

"By all means," Janus said.

It was a little nerve-wracking to have Janus in his room. Patton wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the idea that Janus might not like it, and by extension, not like him. After all, Patton's room was as much an extension of himself and his function as his body was.

Janus stepped quietly over the threshold, holding himself still except for his eyes, which darted from object to object.

"Let me know if you start feeling all sentimental," Patton said, a thrill of nerves tingling his spine. "I don't have a lot of practice controlling my room." Janus probably didn't want to cry today, or ever. Not that he seemed like the type to get caught up in nostalgia. Like Logan, he was ruthless, cutting away what didn't serve him with the precision of a surgeon. Or so it seemed.

Janus nodded. Patton frowned. He'd been awfully quiet since Patron had extended the invitation. He almost seemed scared, which didn't make sense. They were safe in here. Too safe, if Patton let them be, sequestered in this hall of nostalgia's anesthetic haze.

"Are those California poppies?" Janus asked, striding forward to a dresser (the design of which had come from a memory of sleepovers at Thomas' grandmother's house).

"Where?" Patton asked, turning on his heel to look. It was difficult to move without tripping over the odd bin or crate of memorabilia. He found himself faced with a choice to either bend backwards to see around Janus or to stand right next to him. Far too close for propriety, they would be wedged right up against each other like the yearbooks on the far bookshelf.

Patton's heart started to race. Why? Why should he be nervous? He bent backwards, muscles aching in protest at the awkward pose, and peered around Janus' body. "I can't tell."

Janus turned, squinting at Patton's predicament, before looking down at the bins on the floor. He seemed to grasp the issue and extended a hand for Patton to take. "Come here."

Come here. Innocuous words, but the same ones he'd used to bring Patton into his arms that terrible night. Patton's heart fluttered.

He stepped over a stack of textbooks and entered Janus' space. Janus' capelet was soft and velvety against his bare arm; his sleeve a little rougher.

"Are they?" Janus asked.

The poppies were already wilting a little and Patton couldn't help but feel sad about that, even though they were imaginary. "Yes."

"How did you get them?"

"California," Patton said, the memory coming to him on a warm breeze that smelled of the outdoors. "Thomas sees them every time he gets to go."

Janus stifled a cough into the back of his hand, nodding all the while. "He wore them in his hair once."

Patton smiled, mind awash in golden light. Thomas and his friends were making a brief pit stop as they journeyed down I-5 and someone, it didn't even matter who, had spotted the blooms growing by the roadside. And they had all worn flowers in their hair for the rest of the day, bright faces made brighter by the addition of something so beautiful. "Do you like California poppies, Janus?"

"It's funny," Janus said, in a tone so devoid of sarcasm and teasing that Patton nearly did a double-take, "It never occurred to me to like them. But seeing them like this…"

He trailed off, coloring slightly, and Patton's breath caught in his throat. He understood perfectly, too perfectly, and it made him tremble.

It had never occurred to him to love Janus, until one day it did. But this-- Oh, no. Oh, no. Not like this. This couldn't be allowed. Janus glanced over at him and Patton felt his smile snap into place despite the newfound ache of wanting beneath his ribs.

"And here I thought you were going to keep me safe from your room," Janus teased.

"Oops!" Patton ran a hand through his hair. "Give me a second here; I can make a space." He thought for a moment before sitting them both down at a wooden picnic table. He imagined embroidery floss in every color, bins stacked with beads, scissors, and two rolls of masking tape just to be safe.

"Summer camp," Janus said, smiling that crooked smile.

Despite his best efforts, Patton blushed. He tried not to hate himself for it because Janus wouldn't want that. But he also knew he was being far too selfish now, wanting Janus all for himself. There was a line and he had crossed it. "Do you remember what to do?"

Janus was already pawing through the embroidery thread. Loose strands clung to his gloves and Patton watched, intrigued, as Janus' mouth curled into that not-smile he sometimes wore when he was making fun. He withdrew his hands, trailing rainbow strings despite his efforts to shake them off, and glanced at Patton, startling a little when their eyes met.

Patton wasn't sure what to say. 'It's okay' felt hollow, less than a lie. Utterly meaningless. Janus' gloves meant something to him, something that went deeper than just aesthetics. Patton understood, in that moment, what it was all for: the gloves, the high collar, the hat, the sarcasm, the biting remarks, the exaggeration. All guarding Janus' heart. He must have been very afraid. Suddenly his irritation at Patton's inability to prioritize himself made perfect sense.

"I can help you," Patton said, not wanting Janus to feel pressured into taking off his gloves. "You can keep them on, just tell me what colors--"

"Don't be stupid," Janus snapped. "It's just clothing."

"Oh," said Patton. Heat flooded his face, impending tears burning in his eyes. Understanding didn't make it hurt less.

Janus didn't say anything, couldn't, because he was muffling those awful, barking coughs into his sleeve. They sounded so much worse than yesterday. Patton stared at a skein of auburn embroidery floss. He would have to find some way to get through to Roman.

"That was inappropriate," Janus said when he resurfaced. He was a little out of breath; his breath caused loose strings to flutter.

"I understand," Patton said.

"You do?"

Here, Patton hesitated. It seemed a little rude to read Janus, as Roman would say. He had obviously lashed out because he was scared of something.

Janus winced, pressed his lips together, shifted where he sat. "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at Patton. "I shouldn't have said that."

"We can do this another time," Patton said, "if you're not ready. I just wanted…" It seemed stupid to say it out loud now, stupid and manipulative. "I wanted you to feel accepted."

Janus tugged his gloves off without fanfare, folded them neatly, and set them down on the table. His left hand was scaled, which Patton supposed he should have anticipated. "Don't look," Janus said. Patton frowned, trying to parse this, and Janus elaborated, "I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh!" Patton said, relief flooding his chest like morning sunlight through an eastward-facing window. "Okay." He stared at the embroidery thread, thinking. He had never been all that good at color theory, but… Maybe he could do a dark green for Janus's scales, and gold because they shimmered. To represent himself, he would of course use blue thread. And for the two of them, gray. But what shade of green…? Patton picked up a skein of army green floss, then kelly green, then moss green. "Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I need to look at you."

"Oh, Patton, I'm flattered, but need?"

"Can you just give me your hand for a second?" Patton asked, blushing.

"Which one?" Janus asked archly.

"The left one."

"...What for?"

Patton, still not looking at Janus, held up the three skeins of embroidery floss. "I need to color match."

Janus let out a huff of air through his nose. "I'm much prettier than that."

Then an idea struck. "Ooh, I know what to do! I still need your hand, though."

"Alright, alright." Janus leaned over, extending his hand to Patton. He flinched a little when Patton held it in his own, but did not pull away.

"Hmm," said Patton, examining the scales and the way they reflected back the light. It took a bit of thinking, but he managed to imagine a skein of thread in the same glossy green-gold color.

Then Janus stiffened and started to cough again, his hand curling around Patton's fingers until his nails dug painfully into Patton's skin. The fit was low and ragged and rough, left Janus teary eyed and gasping.

"You're sure this is Roman?" Patton asked, dimly aware that he was still holding Janus' hand.

"Forget it," Janus said, his voice like tattered silk. "You said you'd talk to him."

"I'll go right now if you want me to."

Janus shook his head. "Are you done with my hand? If not, I have a few to spare."

"Oh!" said Patton. "Yes. Sorry." He let go of Janus's hand, knuckles aching where Janus' nails had dug in. Janus' cough must have hurt far more than he was letting on.

Right. Compartmentalize. Friendship bracelets.

Patton picked his colors, eyeballed the thread length, cut them down, and taped the ends to the table. He decided on a simple striped pattern, flat, so it could slide easily under Janus's sleeve or the cuffs of his gloves.

"So you and Remus?" Patton said after he had fallen into a rhythm and didn't need to focus quite so hard.

"We're friends, yes."

"But you said--" Patton cut himself off, embarrassed. He certainly didn't want to be reminded of that awful night, and Janus probably didn't either.

"I know."

Patton was pulling too hard. He set his threads down and added another piece of tape. "I don't get it."

Janus sighed. "I'd rather not talk behind his back, but I will say this: He was on his worst behavior when he introduced himself."

Patton considered this but couldn't think of anything to say other than 'thank God.' That seemed rude, so he just kept his mouth shut. The silence that ensued felt equally as rude, and words slipped out of Patton's mouth before he could stop himself, "Do you love him?"

Janus didn't answer. Patton was tempted to look at him, to try to read his expression, but didn't want to risk ruining the surprise. Finally, Janus sighed and Patton heard the gentle rustle of his clothing as he shifted in his seat. "Defensive sarcastic quip."

Patton dropped his threads again so he could muffle a laugh behind his hands. "Sorry, was that too personal?"

"No, no, I love talking about myself. Maybe next you can ask me about my deepest fears."

"I didn't mean to be pushy," Patton said. It was hard not to be; he was so full of love love love he just wanted to give it away like Tupperwares full of snickerdoodles, like wildflower bouquets. He wanted Janus, wanted his whole fam-ILY to know and feel it as deeply as he felt it.

And Janus especially, Patton wanted to tell him with his lips, with his hands, with his tongue. His whole body radiating love.

But just because he wanted didn't mean he could have. He ached with a selfish desire to be held again, safe in Janus' arms. But even Patton was smart enough to understand that that moment was over and done with. They had shared it, and now it was another snapshot for the shoebox Patton kept in his closet. His own memories, separate from Thomas. A testament to his personhood.

They worked in silence after that, until Patton's wandering thoughts came to rest, inevitably, on the trouble at hand. "Hey, Janus?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think we should do now? Thomas can't keep going like this for much longer, I don't think. He hasn't done anything. And I-- I'm not saying-- I'm not trying to say it's, you know, immoral to rest, but this doesn't seem healthy." And also, it did chafe Patton a little, to see Thomas being so lazy, but he could keep that to himself.

"The sooner Logan and Roman get over themselves, the better," Janus said.

"I haven't checked on them yet today." Patton heaved a sigh and tried to focus on his pattern. He had the matte gray hooked around his finger at the moment, his own deliberate reminder to compromise.

"They haven't checked on you at all."

"So, what, then?" Patton asked, struggling not to look up. "I should get mad and ignore them right back?"

"That's what I would do," Janus said. "And you did ask. But…" A long-ish pause. "As we both know, I'm always right."

Oh. Patton closed his eyes, trying not to fold over and bury his forehead in the rough wood of the picnic table. He'd never wanted to see the worst in Janus, but he'd been bracing for it all the same. And every time he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never happened.

That didn't mean they were never going to fight. Patton knew he was naive, but he wasn't that naive. But he had been bracing for something so much worse than this.

It was for Thomas. He had to remind himself. Janus had even said so, down in the parlor. It was all for Thomas. And Patton was sure, when it came time to make the next big decision, they would be at odds again.

But maybe… Maybe it didn't have to be so hostile. Couldn't they disagree without being enemies?

"You are always right, Janus," Janus said in Patton's voice. "And you're so handsome, and smart, too."

It was equal parts creepy and amusing, but Patton appreciated what Janus was trying to do, so he smiled. "I mean, you are smart. And h--" The word caught in his throat. They did all look very similar, though the subtle nature of the subconscious altered their appearances somewhat. It sharpened up Janus' features some, took away several inches of height, made his eyes dark and flashing. "And handsome," Patton finished weakly.

"You already said that," Janus said, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

"You're sweet, is what you are," Patton teased back.

"Finished," said Janus.

Patton blinked, thrown off, before he realized what Janus meant. "I'm almost done. Give me juuuust a second." He finished the bracelet with a practiced hand. "Can I look now?"

"Give me your hand. Then you can look."

Patton extended his left hand and finally looked over at Janus for the first time since they had started. The bright colors of the bracelet caught his eye immediately; it was an intricate weave of only two colors: bright yellow and true blue. Janus fingers were deft and gentle around Patton's wrist. He made no remarks about the purple and black bracelet already tied on.

"Oh, Janus, it's perfect!" Patton said. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He let them fall, unashamed. It was nice to cry happy tears for once. "Your turn."

Janus pushed up his sleeve, tilting his head at Patton's bracelet. "What does it mean?"

"The green is for your scales," Patton explained, positioning the bracelet around Janus' right wrist. "The blue is for me. And the gray is.." He paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's a reminder."

One of the ends brushed against Janus' forearm and he twitched, nearly pulling out of Patton's grasp. "That tickled," he explained.

"You're ticklish?"

"No," Janus said, far too quickly for it to be the truth.

Patton smiled at him, though he knew they were a long way off from friendly touches. It struck him then just how badly he wanted that future. He wanted cuddle sessions with Janus on the couch, just the two of them. He wanted stolen kisses in the kitchen and tickle fights in bed. He wanted Janus, body and soul, consequences be damned. "Noted," Patton said. "Janus: totally not ticklish, even a little bit."

"Gospel truth," Janus said.

Patton finished tying on the bracelet and sat back. "Well…" He didn't want to leave his room, which was a sure sign it was time to go. "I'd better go check on my kiddos."

To his surprise, Janus didn't scowl or nag. He tugged his gloves back on, carefully sliding the bracelet inside the cuff. "What do you say to them?"

"Just that I'm here," Patton said. "And I love them.

"You know, Patton--" Janus got up and held the door open, breaking the spell of Patton's room somewhat-- "sometimes I think you're too good for the likes of us."

And then he was gone, sinking out before Patton could ask him what he meant by that.

Patton went first to Logan's room. Logan had maintained his silence after the meeting, not even answering to tell Patton to go away. The only hint Patton had that he was still in there was that Thomas hadn't gone completely off the rails.

"Hey, Logan." Patton knocked gently. "I'll go away soon, because I know you don't want me to bother you. I just wanted to say… Well, I'm not sure what you need right now, but I know this isn't it. So whenever you're ready to come out, I'll be here." It was so hard not to spill his guts to that plain white door. Almost like a confessional, only that Logan stubbornly refused to tell him what he had to do to earn forgiveness. "I'll go now. Come get me if you need anything, okay? I love you and I miss you." He waited a few seconds for any signs of movement within, but there was nothing.

Down the hall to Roman's room then.

The sight of Virgil seated on the floor with his back pressed up against Roman's cherrywood door made Patton pause, breaths stuttering in his chest.

He kept his distance, but Virgil had startled at the sound of his steps on the carpet.

Patton flashed him a thumbs up and cocked his head.

Virgil nodded.

Patton sank out. What else could he do? If Roman would rather talk to Virgil than to him, well… Patton couldn't blame him.

He sat down heavily at the kitchen island, staring down at the half-finished puzzle. Tears blurred his eyes and he took off his glasses as they started to fall. He was so, so sick of crying. He did it all the time. Every strong emotion moved him to tears.

He wanted to crawl back to Janus' room, relive that tender night. Just once, he wanted someone else to pick him up off the ground. He was thoroughly sick of being his own hero.

He had mostly gotten himself under control by the time Virgil popped up by the fridge. It was only his breathing that still troubled him, heavy and painful in his chest.

"Hey, Virge."

"Since when do you call me that?" Virgil asked, opening the fridge.

It was reflex more than anything that forced Patton to his feet. "I can make you something."

"You don't have to," Virgil mumbled, cheeks going scarlet under his foundation.

"I want to," Patton said. That much was still true, at least. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh, I was just gonna make a sandwich," Virgil said.

"BLT?"

"Sure."

Patton nodded, clenching his left hand into a fist by his side. Virgil was incredibly observant; he was bound to notice Janus' friendship bracelet. Patton wasn't sure whether to let him or to bring it up.

Virgil saved him from having to decide. "Where have you been all morning?" Patton wordlessly held up his arm, feeling for all the world like a guilty child. Sure enough, Virgil's eyes narrowed. But to Patton's surprise, no lecture followed. "Janus made that?"

"Mm-hm." Patton nodded. "I made him one, too."

"Is he wearing it?" Virgil asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Patton said, a little emboldened now that he knew Virgil wasn't angry. "Tied it on myself."

"He let you do that? Janus?" Virgil ran both hands through his hair, looking at Patton like he'd just expressed a desire to go cliff diving while blindfolded.

"I mean, I didn't have to tie him down."

Virgil sighed through his nose and wandered to the kitchen island with a lost expression. "That's weird."

Patton opened up the fridge. "Are you okay?" he said to the condiments rack, not wanting to make Virgil uncomfortable with too much eye contact.

"Watch him," Virgil said. "Watch him like a hawk… A hawk with binoculars."

"Aww!" said Patton, picturing it. "Oh! How's Roman?"

"Conflicted," Virgil said. "I told him you've been hanging out with Janus."

Patton bit his tongue and pulled a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer. It wasn't wrong to spend time with Janus. He loved Janus. Love was never wrong. "How'd he take it?"

"Nnnot that bad?" Virgil said. "I think it helps that Thomas hasn't gone full, y'know, Squip."

"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Patton said. He moved over to the counter and paused to take a few deep breaths. His chest hurt a little. Probably just from crying too much. But that reminded him of Janus and that worrisome, mysterious cough. "By the way, does Roman seem… in control?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, he accidentally made it super cold for a little bit."

"Oh," said Virgil, "yeah. He apologized for that. He's okay now."

Patton nodded, trying not to let his worry show on his face. But it crept into the corners of his mind and kept him silent as he made two BLTs. If Janus was sure it wasn't Remus and Virgil was sure it wasn't Roman… Who else could it be? Or what else?

No answers sprang into Patton's mind. He bit his lip and stabbed one fancy toothpick each through sandwiches. He slid one plate over to Virgil, mindful not to upset any stray puzzle pieces, then rounded the kitchen island to sit next to Virgil.

"You…" he started, and paused to catch his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"

"I mean, I don't love that you're hanging out with Janus. I wish you wouldn't. I wish he'd leave us all alone and go back to slinking around in the shadows like the snake he is." Virgil turned his head to look at the new friendship bracelet on Patton's arm. "But you're your own Side. It would be wrong for me to try to control you. I just really hope he doesn't hurt you, Patton."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, pop star, I'm not mad. Just worried about you."

"Thanks, kiddo."

It seemed that these days, the mindscape was just made up of one crisis after another. After spending a pleasant day with Virgil, albeit with his breaths dragging in and out of his body like the air was too thick to breathe, the next morning found Patton doubled over in a fit of coughing so intense it knocked his glasses off. He ducked right back into his room, kicking his glasses in before him, and spat out a mouthful of heart-shaped flowers onto the floor.

Hm. Uh-oh. He wasn't an expert on biology, but he was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.

The blooms were pretty, though, bright magenta hearts with little white tails. Bleeding hearts, they were called.

Patton frowned. Hadn't Janus said… Yes. 'I want you to protect that bleeding heart of yours.' How ironic. Maybe. Patton could never seem to use 'irony,' right, something Logan was always quick to point out.

He coughed again, but no flowers came up this time. That was good, probably. Coughing was bad, coughing up blood was worse. Surely coughing up flowers had to be somewhere in the middle.

He stood up straight again and banished the flowers into nothingness. Was it coincidence that Janus had a cough? Was it contagious? He hadn't said anything about flowers, though.

Patton sank out, grabbing his glasses on the way. If he was coughing, then he was probably sick. He knew how to handle that.

Since Virgil rarely spent time in the living room, Patton could hole up there with tea and toast and Adventure Time on the TV. Just until he was better, and then it would be right back to trying to fix things. He wondered if Janus would be proud or whether he would just push for Patton to rest more. Maybe both.

Virgil made an appearance a few hours later, about the time that Patton felt his patience running thin. The cough wasn't getting better, but he had no full-body fatigue to make the cartoon marathon bearable. Sitting still for too long made him antsy.

"Roman invited me in," Virgil called from the kitchen, dashing any hopes Patton had for conversation. "I just wanted to let y-- What are you doing?"

"I think I'm getting sick," Patton explained, wincing as the words seemed to claw their way out of his torn-up throat.

"Are you okay?"

Patton nodded. Aside from the cough, he really did feel fine. Maybe this would pass quickly. "Tell Roman I said hi."

"Will do." Virgil gave one last, lingering look before he sank out.

This left Patton alone with the ache in his chest and the vast loneliness threatening to swallow him whole. He tried not to think too much about Janus, lest he inadvertently summon him again, but it was so hard now. He didn't ever want to be apart from Janus. It was such a pure and simple yearning that Patton couldn't even feel guilty for it (though he did feel an echo of guilt that he didn't feel guilty). But it was a desire born of love, and how could that be bad?

The only bad thing about it was that Janus didn't love him back. Of course he didn't. How could he? All he ever did was run around babysitting Patton through crying spells, desperately trying to get him to pull himself together. There was nothing remotely attractive about that. In fact, with Janus, it seemed that all Patton did was take, take, take. He was guilty of the exact behavior that had him so wrung-out and desperate in the first place. How embarrassing.

Patton coughed into the crook of his arm, catching flowers and leaves in his mouth and banishing them without looking. He'd been sick before, they all had, but never like this. He almost wished for fatigue or a headache, something to make resting a little more bearable. Right now, he just felt lazy.

A bottle of NyQuil appeared on the couch next to him, nestled up against an embroidered throw pillow. Patton looked at it. He could already hear Logan lecturing him about the dangers of misusing medication, but… Patton was sick. And he was imaginary. And Thomas probably knew better than to chug NyQuil at the first sign of illness.

It would be fine. Patton poured out a dose and drank it down with his nose plugged in the hopes of masking the alcohol-tinged artificial sweetness. He still shuddered at the syrupy sensation on his tongue. Then he sank out, changed into his pajamas, and buried himself under his covers to slip into a coma.

#sanders sides fanficion #sanders sides #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

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hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

The Century War of Wyverns, Part 2: Chase the French Soldier

[Previous] [Contents] [Next]

Kat: Our first encounters in a strange new land! It... doesn't go well tbh, but I'm sure the next one will!

Cris: Turns out Spartacus doesn't understand "the back of your blade" very well.

Jeanne: {CWs for violence against humans, death, first-person panic attack}

------

God dammit, how the hell can that mountain of muscle move so fast? We barely got a word in edgewise and he’s already left us in the dust! If we don’t get there in time those soldiers are gonna be a big red smear on the ground. One more hill, and… he’s just… standing there, having a conversation with them? He gestured towards the one in the gaudiest uniform before walking over.

Spartacus: Placet expectare.

Spartacus: Ah master, there you are! I have glorious news! These soldiers are themselves fighting against the oppression of a false king! Of course, a true king is also oppressive in its own way, but still! Their leader even speaks latin! Roughly.

French General: C'est ton géant ?

Kat: <Ooh, ooh! I got this! Time for all that duolingo to do its thing!>

April (Kat): Bonjour, garcon!

I internally rolled my eyes as the soldier blanched.

Cris: <Kat. Garcon means boy. Let’s try something else.>

April (Cris): (Hey, Mash, do you know French? Mine’s a little rusty.)

Mash: (Sorry master, I barely know enough to say hello.)

April (Jeanne): (Well, English is a common lingua franca, might as well try that, right?)

Cris: <Good idea!>

Mash: Wait, that’s-

April (Cris): Sorry about that, tried to be polite, don’t actually know that much French. The big guy’s with us, and we were hoping you… could… Ah, fuck.

The soldiers had already surrounded us. Cries of “L’Anglais!” erupted around us as they pointed their spears in our direction.

Mash: The French are at war with England in this time period!

April (Cris): I gathered, yeah.

Spartacus: So now they seek to oppress us as well?

Mash: What are your orders, master?

April (Cris): Take them down but try not to kill the idiots. Uh… hit them with the back of your blade, or something.

Mash lifted her shield up quizzically.

Mash: And what part of this, exactly, is the blade?

April (Cris): Dammit, just try not to kill them!

Even holding back, it was clear the soldiers were no match for Mash Kyrielight. She ran circles around them, their every attack parried as their weapons shattered against their shield. Even three on one, the soldiers didn’t stand a chance. Meanwhile, Spartacus ha- oh God.

I faltered, stumbled off the road and retched. If Mash had a spotless technique, Spartacus’ was nothing but spots. He simply walked from soldier to soldier and shattered their bodies with his fists. He hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword. The few soldiers Mash pacified were bruised, but relatively unharmed. The ones unlucky enough to face Spartacus weren’t going to get back up.

The forest span <Jeanne?> around me. I know someone was calling our name, but I couldn't <Jeanne!> hear anything beyond the blood rushing to my head. My chest hurt, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't- <JEANNE!>

A sharp sting as my hand slapped my cheek. Cris stopped me from spiraling again. I took a moment to breathe properly.

April (Jeanne): Okay… Okay, I’m good. I think.

I slowly stood up and made it back to the others. The surviving French soldiers had already made their escape. Mash’s spirit origin was shaking. I put my hand on her shoulder as I got closer.

April (Jeanne): Mash, are you alright?

Mash: I should be asking you that, Master. I’m… I can’t believe it, but I’m still not used to this.

April (Jeanne): It’s only been a day or two Mash, you don’t have to force yourself to be okay with this.

Mash: A day? Oh, right.

Spartacus: Mmh. It might be better for you two if you don’t become comfortable in these sorts of things. The two of you are unoppressed by the experience of warfare. Hold that close to you.

Mash: Right. Thank you, Spartacus. So, what’s our next move?

April (Cris): Right, I hate to do this, but… we need to follow the soldiers that ran off.

Spartacus: Ahah, we must finish the fight then?

April (Cris): NO! Nonono. I mean, they’re going to run to the nearest place with people. They’re our only lead right now. Did you see which way they went, Spartacus?

Spartacus: Of course! Follow me!

----

On our way, we got in contact with Dr. Roman again. Turns out our plugsuit comes equipped with a translator- would have come in handy earlier, but fuck it, at least we won’t have to fight literally everyone we come across.

The sky was turning red when we finally saw the smoke clouds over the horizon. We rushed over a hill and finally got a look at the fort. It was in bad shape. Walls crumbled in, with smoke and fire billowing out from several windows. Dark shapes moved through the smoke, obscured in a haze.

Another wall fell over as we descen-

Kat: <Hey, look! Isn’t that one of the soldiers?>

Sure enough, one of the survivors of Spartacus’ rampage was kneeling at the top of the hill.

April (Cris): Hey! Hey you! Don’t fucking run, I’m talking to you!

The soldier had started, but before he made it to his feet we were already surrounding him. He was speaking too fast to translate at first, so I just pressed on.

April (Cris): Look, I get it if you don’t believe us, but we’re not gonna kill you.

April (Jeanne): We have traveled a long way because we heard something very, very bad was happening here. Please, can you tell us what is going on?

French Soldier: Oh, and what are the English going to do about it?! Insult her and run away?

Cris: <Apparently we can do a lot fucking more than your soldiers can.>

April (Jeanne): We have fought worse. Now, who is this “her”?

French Soldier: You’ve fought worse than Jeanne d’Arc? Hah! Unlikely!

Mash: Jeanne d’Arc? She should be dead by this point!

French Soldier: That is the worst part, she is! She was dead for three days, when the Saint of Orleans appeared out of nowhere and started razing all of France to the ground. She’s been tearing around with an Army of monsters for days now! Even King Charles couldn’t stand up to her!

April (Jeanne): Thank you. We will figure out a way to stop this, I promise.

By the time we got closer to the ruined fort, whatever had caused so much damage had long since disappeared. However, I could still make out faint traces of enchantment on some of the bodies scattered around the field.

April (Jeanne): Roman, I'm noticing something off about this corpse. What do you make of it?

Mash: Senpai, we really should get out of the open while there’s still daylight.

April (Jeanne): Give Roman a second, Mash. I'm sure there's something off about it.

Roman: Huh. Good catch, April. This body had been treated for necromancy. Large-scale necromancy is certainly rare, but it’s still possible with or without a holy grail. Either way, it’s good to have an idea of what we’re up against.

We entered the keep. Walking around was a nightmare, it was as if every square inch of space was taken up by the injured. Their groans echoed through the fort. Suddenly, I felt something on the edge of my scanning area. It was faint, but unmistakable. A spirit origin.

April (Jeanne): Mash, do you feel that?

Mash: Barely. There must be a servant outside the castle.

April (Jeanne): No, about thirty feet in that direction. Does anyone catch your eye?

Mash: There’s no one there who could be a servant, Master.

Cris: <This is pointless, let me look.>

Kat: <No way! You got to yell at the guy, lemme look, lemme look!>

Yay, I won! I turned where Jeanne was pointing. The whole place was just beat up soldiers & less beat up soldiers taking care of them. Oh, there’s one! A little girl is going around comforting people as they fall asleep!

April (Kat): What about that little girl? The one dressed in all white? Can she be a servant?

Roman: That’s not likely. Servants are invariably summoned at the “peak” of their myth. It’s possible for child prodigies to be summoned young, but the vast majority will either be young adults when they are most powerful, or at old age when they are most skilled. You guys should get some rest while you can. I’ve detected a leyline a day’s travel from here, you should set out in the morning.

We found a spot near a wall and curled up to sleep. I don’t remember much of my dreams, but when I woke up it was still dark. That girl was still tiptoeing around the soldiers, and every now and then I caught her singing, at barely above a whisper.

That was weird enough, but then something amazing happened! The soldier she was standing next to, his wounds suddenly shrank, until it was like he never got hurt at all! He shifted in his sleep, and she moved on to the next one.

April (Kat): (I knew it!)

I pulled myself out of our pile as slow as possible, and inched closer to her.

April (Kat): Excuse me?

Little Girl: Hello miss. (Please keep your voice down, people are sleeping!)

April (Kat): (Oh, sorry! This might sound weird, but… are you a servant?)

Little Girl: (I am a faithful servant of God, yes. Is something wrong?)

April (Kat): (That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean are you human?)

A strange look crossed the girls face.

Little Girl: (I was. Let’s talk outside.)

She led me by the hand out of the castle. She had such a strong grip, it was kinda awkward! Once we were a bit away, she turned to face me. Suddenly, a spear covered in flags appeared out of nowhere and landed in her hands!

Little Girl: As you have guessed, I am indeed a Servant, Lancer class. My true name is Jeanne d’Arc.

#fgo #fanfic #mastersona #singularity 1 #spartacus

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 10

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 10)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: So many questions, a few answers--and the identity of the assassin is revealed.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: CW for gore--please skip to the end for specific warnings that are spoilery.

This chapter may be garbage, but I've been STRUGGLING with this one (REWRITTEN FOURTEEN TIMES I AM NOT JOKING) so I'm posting it before I can change anything. The next one will come much sooner now that this ASSHOLE of a chapter is done.

If you've been waiting, I'm sorry and I love you. It's unbeta'd and uncooperative, so it's my fault if it sucks, but I WILL be making it up to you with a side story I'm now writing--Remile, anyone? >.> XD

Also, the content warning is for @elliot-orion, 'cause it's a loving nod to a lovely hooman. We morbid nerds gotta stick together. They are just the literal best. <3

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

Lazari.

The word rattled around in twenty two year old Logan Berry's head the same way the word Necromata had in the empty skull of twelve year old Logan Crofter.

He was lucky, once again—to be alive, and to be supported. Lucky to have some of his memories, at least, to have his blood by his side...

His blood, and something more. Something that scared him and thrilled him and made him ache for the years and the empty hole in his head that kept him from it. Something that blotted out the world and turned the word into...something else.

Lazari. Lazari. Logan.

Lazari.

“Logan.”

There was a hand on his arm, breaking through the blood roaring in his ears and the dim haze that had fallen over his vision—not like the Loom of Memory, but something sick and frenetic and shaking.

...so this was what Virgil's panic attacks were like. Interesting.

The hand slid down to his wrist, then down further to mesh their fingers together.

There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him.

“...Roman?”

“That's right, Starlight. Just...hold on. Don't let go—not this time.”

Logan tightened his fingers in Roman's, trying to find a rhythm to get his breathing under control. It was more than just the panic and fear and confusion, his heart was racing and he couldn't breathe and his limbs were sore...he'd been running. Running away, running—towards?

Running through the tunnels, running through the dark, running away...

Roman's thumb ran along the side of Logan's index finger, slow strokes back and forth. Logan tried to time his breaths around each gentle sweep...and it helped, at least a little.

“I never have.” he managed to reply after a few minutes of just standing, clinging, breathing. “I never will.”

Roman's face was finally in focus again. Logan's chest felt raw, scraped by sandpaper and flayed by knives—he was tousled dark hair and tanned skin and eyes of emerald, handsome and compassionate and so painfully kind, this prince, this king—

--and Logan loved him. He had loved him for so many years. Logan's mind had been stripped of the knowledge, but his heart was an open wound that knew, that remembered every second of that separation. It had clung, it had beat steady...it had waited for him.

“You did last time.” Roman pointed out with a sad smile. His free hand found his way into Logan's, leaving them standing there in one of the unused sewer tunnels, holding hands like besotted children as they stared into each other's eyes.

“You swore you wouldn't...and you let go.”

Logan shook his head. “No, I didn't. I was pulled away.”

“I...remember.”

Logan watched Roman frown at that, as if surprised by the knowledge of his own recollection—then watched the light in his eyes die a little.

“I can never forget.” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, lashes shimmering in the low light with the tears trying to escape. “The sound of your screams as you were dragged away...the door shutting, and how quiet everything got--”

“Why were we there?” Logan asked softly, stepping closer against his will. Everything in him was screaming for more, closer, all. He was starving for Roman, for his beauty and his smile and his laughter, for his wild optimism and boundless determination.

“Hmmm?”

“Why were we there? Why...why was I arrested? What did I hide?”

Roman opened his eyes, causing the tears to spill while his expression melted from pain to puzzlement. Logan reached up with hand, without letting Roman go, to wipe away one of the tear tracks with his thumb.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember being taken—my last glimpse of you. Before you grabbed me, I was hiding something.” Logan explained.

And that was...important somehow. He just couldn't put his finger on it...

Roman leaned into Logan's touch, shifting his grip so he could hold Logan's hand to his face, palm curled against Roman's cheek while he thought.

“I—I have trouble remembering.” he admitted softly. “We were looking for one of the Tomes. To...prove...”

Logan nodded. “I reconstructed a portion of that memory earlier—but something stopped me from finishing it. That was why I was so...confused when I left the Loom of Memory.”

Roman nodded. “I felt it. I couldn't see the memory, but when you were channeling from me, I...sensed what you were doing, and I tried to help. When you were thrown out of that trance, it felt—wrong. Painful.”

“But you can't remember?” Logan asked, something worming through his brain as he turned it over in his head. “That doesn't make sense. Why would...”

...he hung on until the grip on his collar finally yanked him out of the fourteen year old prince's grasp...

He stilled, something in the pit of his chest trembling.

“...I made sure of it.” he realized aloud.

“Made sure of what, Logan?”

Looking into Roman's eyes, Logan remembered that younger face, the desperation and fear, that glimpse of jewel green in the dark and that was all he wanted in the world before...before...

“When I was taken—I didn't let go, I was pulled away. I made sure of it.” he replied with more confidence.

Logan stared down at their remaining joined hand, lifting it up between them. He shifted his grip, unlinking their fingers until he had his wrapped around Roman's digits in a death grip. Roman's hand curled into it, clinging like he had that night.

When he'd been trying to drag Logan to safety.

The hand at his collar yanked, and Logan's fingers slid free, throbbing—

Only then did Logan feel the bite of the ring.

“What's this, Roman?”

Releasing his hand, Logan showed him the ring he was wearing—heavy silver, wrought with strange symbols that Logan did not understand anymore, but called to him in a way that made him think he'd known how to read them once upon a time. The ring was set with a stone blue as lapis lazuli and Patton's eyes, but rather than being flecked with gold, it was dotted red.

Roman stared at the ring on his hand, then at Logan, fear in his eyes.

“Remus.” he breathed. “He...he put it on me the night you were arrested. I was holding it, and he put it on me—Logan, why didn't I remember that? Why are there things I don't remember?...”

“Because I was wearing it.” he replied, running his thumb over the stone. Removing his other hand from Roman's cheek, Logan cradled Roman's hand between both of his and inspected the ring more closely. It was warm to the touch, and he felt a flare of power in his gut that terrified him. The ring was bespelled...

He'd been wearing it the night of his arrest—and Logan was still working the spell wrought into it.

“It's enchanted...I think the spell breaks if the wearer removes it.” Logan replied slowly, uncertainly. “I...I made sure I didn't take it off myself. You...you pulled it off my hand, I remember it wrenched my finger.”

He stared at the ring, then up at Roman again.

“I think...I think the fact that I never broke my connection to it means that it's spell is affecting both of us. Some spell affecting perception, or...memory.”

Roman gaped at him, then at the ring. Logan watched his brow furrow, then his jaw set with an anger he didn't recognize, but one that felt painfully familiar.

“Well then—let's see which it is.”

There was something Logan was missing...something about where they were standing...

Over Roman's shoulder, Logan spotted a steel ladder leading up.

He recognized this tunnel.

“Roman, no--”

Tugging out of Logan's grip, Roman removed the ring.

********** “...sorry, guys.”

“For the ninth time, Patton—it's okay.” Virgil soothed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I didn't even expect him to spook when you told him he was a Lazari. That's normally my job.”

“I'm assuming that's why the prince is hanging on you?” Janus replied dryly.

Virgil looked over his shoulder—and wrinkled his nose when his face smooshed into the side of Remus's, who had his arms cinched around Virgil's waist and his chin on Virgil's shoulder.

“Not really.” Remus chirped brightly. “Though that's a fair point—physical contact does wonders for anxiety. Nah, I'm just copping a feel is all.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil faced the other two again—and resisted the urge to lay his hands over the ones pressed to his stomach, to lean back into the solid line of warmth behind him that made everything feel smaller and quieter and safer. It was a larger, more intense version of the warmth that cradled him as he'd fallen into Logan, giving up his mind to expand his brother's...

It hadn't been that intense in a long time—coming back to himself was usually hard, shook him up, but...Remus helped. Weirdly. Sort of.

...fuck it: Virgil folded his arms across his chest, but leaned back into Remus and ignored him aggressively. Especially when he pretty much cuddled up to Virgil's back even harder.

“So how did this happen?” Virgil asked Janus and Patton instead. “Both Pat here and my brother—you said Patton's a Lazari?”

Patton shook his head. “Only Weavers can become Lazari—I'm a Herald! I was a Black Dog before I got my soul.”

Virgil blinked at that. “You are a Black Dog? You're nowhere near violent enough.”

Janus let out an abrupt laugh at that as he regarded Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “When you went through basic training, did your instructor warn you about gagging prisoners?”

“Yeah: not to do it alone. He told some story about a cannibal in the dungeons who took three of a private's fingers off.”

“Hmph.”

Virgil blinked, looking at the source of the huff—namely, the tiny curly haired cherub of a necromancer who was sort of...hugging Janus's bicep with both his arms, cheek pressed just below his shoulder with a petulant little pout on his round features.

“You...What? You...no. No, you did not--”

Patton huffed, holding onto Janus tighter as he straightened primly.

“He was mean to Logan.” he insisted. “And I didn't eat them, I spat them out and fed them to the rats. And that was just his fingers, he gave up his nose when he tried to kill Janus--”

“And this is why I had to arrange to make him Logan's cell mate very early on—sharp teeth when he's mad.” Janus sighed, all while casting Patton a look so warm and so infinitely luminous that it could only be called tender. “He was safer, and far less of a troublemaker, with companionship.”

Virgil's stomach turned dangerously, and as if he knew, one of Remus's hands pressed flat to Virgil's belly, like he was trying to steady him.

“Oh, Seven Hells...” Virgil groaned, shaking his head. “I can't—know what? Fuck it. I believe you, and I'm sufficiently terrified of the cannibalistic Black Dog.”

“Herald.” Patton protested. “And I did not eat his fingers! The tip of his nose was an accident, he shoved me after I bit him and I swallowed on reflex--”

“Can we please get back on topic?” Virgil protested.

“Oh, come on, toy soldier.” Remus laughed. “This is good stuff! If you weren't so cute and Pattycake there wasn't so gone on Lord Janus, I'd be checking out his ass right now!”

Virgil sputtered and blushed, trying to refocus on the conversation and not...the crap coming out of Remus's mouth. While he was currently a literal monkey on Virgil's back.

“So...that's how it's done? You...get a soul? But the Animata were the only ones who could give necromancers souls, and they don't exist anymore.”

“Actually...”

Virgil glared back at Remus. “What the hell do you know, you walking trash can?”

“Oh—you say the sweetest things!” Remus cooed, reaching up to boop the tip of Virgil's nose before grabbing onto him again.

“Seriously, Remus...”

The warning note in Virgil's voice clearly did something, because Remus finally sobered and lost some of that manic gleam in his eye. Instead, the green eyes he shared with his brother glinted more like blades carved of pure emerald: razor sharp, precise, and deadly.

“My big brother's a half-twin who got hung up on a necromancer. I did some digging.” he admitted. The nasal whine in Remus's voice softened as he spoke, turning his tone into something smooth and impossible to ignore: biting enough to catch the ear, pleasant enough to make listening enjoyable.

“In the few records we have of Zero—the first year of the time cycle we use now—there are documented mentions of the Animata. You have to lie, cheat, steal, and fuck to see those volumes of the Tomes, even if you're a member of the royal family, but luckily I'm good at all four of those things!”

“So the Animata are real?”

“Very. We just know them by a different name now.”

“What name?”

“...that's what I'm not sure of.”

“I am.”

Virgil looked to Janus sharply. “How?”

Janus glared at him, then Remus...then slid a look at Patton, who snuggled closer and nodded in encouragement.

“Animata is a word from the language of the dragons.” Janus finally admitted. “Even drakes are born knowing how to speak it. The word means 'life giver.' However, according to my mother, it was also the root of a pejorative—a slur directed at the entire race due to the crimes of one. A slur that means 'death giver.'”

He paused, then looked Virgil square in the eye.

“The slur was necromata.”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Virgil asked—no, wheezed...no, something else, because he wasn't sure he had enough breath for that.

“I'm talking about the fact that your people never needed to be controlled, Virgil. You were—are the life givers. You animate the dead—give back life that was taken, remember the forgotten, grant warning to the condemned so they can meet their end without regret. The power your people possess is a gift granted you by the Fates, one the Animator turned his back on.”

“How do you know any of this? Who is your mother that she knows--”

“My mother was the Dragon Witch of Kolar!”

Virgil's mouth snapped shut as silence fell. For a long moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak as he thought about all the Festivals of the Forgotten past, of his grandmother's grave that Grandpap visited every week, and the one nameless child's grave in the celebratory fields, forbidding anyone to touch it for literal years...

“What'm I missing, toy soldier?” Remus murmured in his ear, making Virgil shiver reflexively—and also bringing him back to the present.

Oh, nothing. Virgil wanted to say. Only I think that Lord Janus, captain of the royal guard and the assassin's corps is my dead uncle, that's all.

Instead, Virgil just shook his head and sagged into Remus a little more, letting his steady warmth stave off the panic attack he could feel coming on.

“Then...what about the race of twin souls?” he finally croaked, dismissing the subject.

“There's no race.” Patton replied after a moment before looking up at Janus with an expression so soft, he half expected the drake to transform into a baby duckling. “Just...well...soulmates. In that they have two souls, and one of them belongs to us. Janny gave me mine.”

“You're a twin soul?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I'm a drake—half human, half dragon? The duality is more than just tragic backstory, sweetie.”

Virgil tried not to think about the implications of that 'tragic backstory'--then his blood ran cold as he twisted to look Remus in the eye.

“You weren't hiding Roman because of his extra soul.” he breathed. “You were hiding the fact that he gave it away.”

“An extra soul? He—what?” Janus sputtered.

“King Thomas Roman II isn't a conduit, he's a twin soul. The princes are half-twins, split between the cusp of days.” Virgil explained. “When twins are born on two separate days, they get two different souls—not the one they were supposed to be linked to. It means that--”

“One twin gets a normal soul, the other gets two, his and the one his brother should have had—and the power of a completely unsullied soul is the kind of power that can easily ensure someone is mistaken for a conduit.” Janus realized aloud, cursing. “This is not the kind of thing you hide from the captain of the guard! How did that even happen, anyway?”

“Because Roman doesn't know.”

Virgil watched Remus's face as he spoke, strangely shaken by the look of regret on his features.

“What do you mean he doesn't know?” Janus protested. “That's not something that's easy to hide.”

“...unless he doesn't remember.”

Patton's sweet, gentle voice piped up, and Virgil watched as he left Janus's side to step closer, his eyes on Remus.

“He doesn't, does he?” he asked softly. “That's how Janny didn't know. That's--”

Patton was cut off by a distant cry of alarm that sounded suspiciously like...

Remus's arms tightened around Virgil. “Roman.”

Virgil looked to Janus, who was already staring in the direction of the voice. Looking to Virgil, he nodded in silent understanding.

The king was in trouble, and Logan was with him.

Janus swept his cape back, glancing at Patton. “Darling?”

Patton nodded, features screwed up in determination...

...and before their eyes, the diminutive young necromancer had melted, reshaped itself, until a hound roughly half Janus's height stood befor them, with a sleek, coal black coat and eyes that glowed bright, cheerful sky blue.

Patton's nose hit the ground like a shot, sniffing and snuffling before he whined and took off at a trot.

********** “Loganberry!”

A few turns down the tunnels led them towards a steel ladder leading up to a hatch that led somewhere into the lower levels of the palace. Just a few feet away from it, a prone figure was on the ground, unconscious.

By the time Virgil reached his side, Logan was sitting up, rubbing his face.

“Get him up.” Janus ordered. “We need to get you all to the king's chambers for safety's sake.”

Virgil nodded, facing Logan—Logan, who was staring at the steel ladder like it was some kind of phantom.

“Logan...where's Roman?” Virgil asked softly.

Something crossed Logan's features, an emotion so painfully intense Virgil couldn't quite identify it—then went cold and dead with an emotion Virgil knew very well.

One that could easily be mistaken for neutral in its total absence of feeling, but with the subtle curl of Logan's lip, Virgil could easily identify as pure, undiluted rage.

“The king has been taken.” Logan declared, rising to his feet and stalking towards the ladder.

“By who?” Remus asked, startling Virgil with the fact that he was directly behind him with Virgil never realizing he was there.

“The assassin.” Logan replied—just as he began climbing the ladder.

“Logan, get down here!” Janus snapped.

“You'll want to join me, Lord Janus—this leads to the dungeons. Please instruct Patton to resume his human form.”

Virgil could hear a snuffle somewhere behind him, but he was unable to tear his focus from Logan as he ascended the ladder. There was something about his voice, that look on his face, something that was making Virgil's chest tight and his ears buzz with a funny droning sound...

He followed Logan up the ladder.

At the top, Logan was there to help him up, grabbing his hand to steady him as he emerged in the middle of a dungeon hallway. The pair of them did the same for Remus, Janus, and a Patton now in human form.

“...this is the barricaded section.” Janus realized as he straightened, dusting himself off before turning to Patton. “This portion of the dungeons was shut down eight years ago.”

“Correct.” Logan replied, facing the four men and gesturing down the hall. “There is an office down the hall--”

The buzzing in Virgil's ears grew louder, and the world started to get a little washed out on the edges—sort of gray and blurry.

“This is where you were taken.” he wheezed, feeling a line of heat at his back when he started to sway.

Logan nodded, then turned away from them and knelt beside the open sewer hole. He thought Logan was going to slide the cover back in place, but then watched him reach inside. Only then did Virgil realize the hole had some kind of channel around the edge, slim but deep, possibly for some kind of drainage component that was never put in.

Logan reached into it, fished around, then pulled out a slim bundle wrapped in a faded, careworn child's coat.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Logan's shoulders slumped.

“Roman is still alive.” he sighed to himself, distracted and not quite soft enough to keep from being heard. “He never found it.”

Virgil felt his knees buckle. Arms wound around his waist again, and some of the gray edges in his vision cleared a little.

“You...you...Lo, you have...”

Logan replaced the sewer cover and stood, facing Virgil with a neutral, but softer look.

“My memory back, yes.” Logan replied. “It's a long story, but its restoration is the very reason Roman was taken from me. The assassin has him—that is why you should be here, Lord Janus--”

“Try uncle.” Virgil muttered—however, Logan heard him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ma'am-Ma'am was his mother, so he's Geni's brother.”

“Just how old do you fuckers get?” Remus huffed behind Virgil.

“The life expectancy of the average Necromata is about a hundred and twenty years—but the dragon blood in the Crofter family tree means we get triple that.” Virgil muttered as Logan regarded Janus with new interest. “My geni was born, not hatched, and they didn't meet Pari until they were a hundred and forty.”

“How do you know the assassin was the one that took the king, Logan?” Patton asked from his place at Janus's side.

“Because he tried to kill me when I was nine.” As quickly as possible, Logan relayed his memory of how he first met Roman, resuscitated after being found nearly drowned in a river.

“He is also the one who arrested me—and the one who just broke out of the dungeons.” Logan finished. “That is why I brought you all up here, Lord Janus. And this...”

Logan stopped to unwrap his precious bundle, revealing a small, leatherbound volume.

“...will prove his guilt, as well as provide us a means to stop him.”

“Logan...who is the asassin?”

Logan's features paled then, bright blue eyes dulling with remembered horror.

When he spoke, Remus's arms around Virgil tightened, and Virgil distantly heard Patton choke out a strangled noise that might have been a sob that echoed the sudden lump that was making it hard for Virgil to breathe.”

“The man you arrested yesterday, Lord Janus—the assassin is Colonel Mori.”

* * * * Specific CW for gore: mentions of cannibalism, both in general and specific--erring on the side of caution with graphic depictions of it, mostly discussing the details of a bitey little manpuppy being bitey. And a manpuppy. XD

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

Text

I Know What You’re Going To Say - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: A Beauty and the Beast style Vampire AU. Vampire!Virgil has picked up Logan off the street and is holding him captive under the threat of killing his friends if he tries to escape.

Word Count: 1801

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Kidnapping, Restraints, Death Threats, Psychological Manipulation, Mentions of Parental Homophobia/Abandonment, Unsympathetic!Virgil (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

---

Logan shivered as a cold draft passed over his neck. A soft groan escaped his lips as he attempted to lift his heavy head. He immediately stilled his movements as his vision blurred and he suppressed a retch as his head started to swim. He gritted his teeth trying to settle his stomach while he searched his mind for any recollection of what had happened to him.

Did someone...drug me?

Slowly, feeling came back to his body as he pulled himself out of unconsciousness. His muscles ached, rebelling against the movement as he forced himself to resist giving into his own weakness.

I was walking with Roman. What happened?

He clenched his hand into a fist, feeling a thick cord cut into his muscles as he tried to move them. Forcing himself to blink his vision clear, he wearily turned his head to where his arms were stretched out to his sides. Logan swallowed, bile filling his throat at the sight of his wrists hanging limply against the pipes to which they were bound. He groaned as pins and needles erupted in his fingertips as he tried to wiggle them. The person who had bound him to the piping behind him clearly hadn’t been too concerned with his welfare when he'd tied the cords tight enough to cut off his circulation.

Logan tipped up his head up, glancing around him. The room around him was dimly lit and mostly empty, but he could just make out a few crates spread out on the far wall in front of him. They were stacked as if preparing for shipping, nearly cutting off his line of sight to the only door he could make out in the dark. The ceiling hung high above him and he could just make out the long industrial lights hanging above him and he scanned down the room until his gaze finally dropped to his own legs spread out on the concrete ground beneath him.

A warehouse?

“Move and you die.”

A sudden chill shot up Logan’s spine as the deep voice echoed in the space around him. He froze in place, allowing only his eyes to move as scoured the dark space for the source of the stranger's voice.

“What do you want?” Logan’s stomach twisted at the sound of his own weak voice, suddenly aware of his own vulnerability.

“Clearly, I have what I want.” A shadow shifted in his periphery and Logan’s head shot up toward the dark figure casually strolling up to him. He blinked and attempted to swallow back a wave of nausea as he struggled to focus his vision on the man as he slid out of the dark. Unfortunately, his efforts were wasted and the man remained no more than a black shadow through the haze of his brain.

Logan grunted as fingertips curled in his hair, yanking his head up. His vision blurred as his eyes watered. Swallowing back his fear, he forced his eyes open to catch sight of his captor. He squinted, furiously trying to focus on the figure in front of him.

“You’re prettier than most of my meals.” The figure muttered in an almost disinterested tone. “It's almost a shame I have to break that perfect skin.”

Logan shivered as the man's hand brushed over his neck. “If you want money, I can get y—"

“I don't,” The man snarled. “and you'd best give up that line of thought. Nothing you can offer will get you out of this.”

Logan sucked in a breath. His shoulders felt heavy from the effect of the drugs, but he bit his lip and forced himself to remain rebellious of the man’s control. “Surely, you have a price.”

The man hummed thoughtfully. “I do, but it’s not going to get you home.”

“If you’re not going to let me go, then why would I barter with you?” Logan growled as his head was yanked to the side.

“Well, forgive me if I've misinterpreted your good nature," The man leaned closer, breathing down Logan’s neck. "but you don’t seem like the type to enjoy being responsible for his friend’s death.”

Roman—

Logan’s heart dropped as his memory came flooding back. Roman had been walking home when the shadow had grabbed him off the street. His friend’s yells echoed in his ears as a wave of anxiety rushed to his chest.

“What did you do to him?!” Logan cried out as he pulled away from the man’s hand, growling as the man caught his chin with a tight grip.

“Nothing, but if you want it to stay that way, you'll shut your mouth.” The man hissed in his ear threateningly. "And if you ever scream in my ear again, I'll end your miserable life."

Logan clamped his mouth shut, breath catching in his throat as the man curled into his neck. He forced himself to keep his eyes open even as his vision blurred, desperately trying to catch some details from the man in front of him. The black hood of the man's sweatshirt brushed his face and he could just make out dark rings below his eyes as the man breathed down his neck.

“This is how this is going to work.” The man's deep growl vibrated on his neck. “You belong to me now, Logan Nagel.”

Logan’s heart stopped as the stranger whispered his name in his ear. He shivered as the deranged man leaned back and lifting a cold hand to his chin. Logan went limp with panic as the stranger tilted his head to the side, looking him up and down.

“Right now, your pretty friend is now safely asleep in his bed, and when he wakes up, he'll think that the monster who attacked him was all a bad nightmare.” An unnatural smile spread across the strange man’s face. His eyes glimmered dangerously as the dark circles under his eyes darkened. “At least that's what he'll think until he finds out his friend has disappeared last night without a trace.”

Logan stifled a whimper in his throat as the stranger sneered at him. He closed his eyes, stealing himself as he started to plead. “Please, if you want money, I can—"

“I don’t need money.”

The stranger stood up, chuckling as Logan flinched away from the movement. He casually stepped back, leaning against one of the support beams as he allowed Logan to catch a clear glimpse of his captor for the first time. He stood tall. Even if Logan weren't bound on the ground, he would guess the stranger would loom over him. The purple tips of his dark hair hung over his eyes, glinting in the dim fluorescent light as he moved across the room. His jet-black pupils only served to accent the dark circles under his eyes. Logan glanced down the stranger's body and gulped. Somehow, even in the over-sized black sweatshirt, he could tell the stranger had muscular, narrow shoulders and his thought was confirmed as he stared at the stranger's black skinny jeans, which left little of the man's athletic build to the imagination.

“You might as well give up on the idea of bargaining your way out of this, Logan. The life you knew is over.” The stranger stated dryly, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket lazily. He glanced at the screen, typing away at the screen as he continued speaking. “From now on, you do whatever I ask, whenever I ask. And if you give me trouble, I'll bring your friends here and kill them in front of you.”

“W-what?” Logan whimpered quietly.

“What was the pretty one's name again? Roman?” The stranger sneered down at him cruelly as Logan’s heart seized in his chest. “And let's see. He has a brother. A disgusting punk type, if you ask me.”

Logan’s mouth hung open as he felt himself start to shake. “How do you—”

“Though I wonder if you'd even care if I got rid of him. You might even appreciate me keeping him away from your brother.” The stranger looked up from his phone briefly. “He's the one whose squeal could shatter glass. What was his name again?”

Logan trembled. His fingertips suddenly felt numb with panic. “No…”

"Patton!" Logan flinched at the man’s sudden exclamation, curling his knees to his chest. “That's the useless brat's nam—

“Stop.” Logan cut him off harshly, grinding his teeth in frustration. “You won’t get away with this. They’ll catch you and my father will see you rot in prison for the rest of your life. He’s the district attorney, and if you don't let me go immediately, he'll—”

“Don’t lie to me, Logan. Your family cut you off months ago.” The stranger cut him off in an almost bored tone as he returned to tapping away at his phone. “Pretty boy lost his trust fund because he accidentally let slip he was gay to his bastard parents.”

Logan stared at him blankly. “I haven't told anyone about that.”

“Not even your brother. I know. I've been watching you for a long time, Logan.” The unfamiliar man shrugged typing a few last keystrokes before shoving his phone in his pocket. “Sucks that you outted yourself, but that's not my problem. You’re a nobody now, just like the rest of us, and that means no one's coming looking for you.”

“My friends will try and find me.” Logan growled bitterly. “They won’t rest until they do.”

“Maybe, but you really don’t want that to happen.” A sinister smile spread across the man's face. Even in the dim light, Logan could see the man's lips curl into a smile, revealing his sharp canines. “I have no problem killing them if they get too close.”

Logan's jaw dropped as he realized the strange man had backed him into a corner.

“And I'll remind you again, don’t inconvenience me. I don't care enough to be patient with you.” The man shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, glaring at him intently. “Try to escape and I will kill everyone you care about and then finish with you. Got it?”

Dropping his head, Logan felt his throat constrict as he tried to swallow down the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. His tired mind raced at the realization he may never see his friends again. He bit his lip as the fight left his body as his chin dipped to his chest. Numbly, he nodded, distracted as he tried to process what was happening through he haze that still clung to his brain.

“Good.” The man didn't even tip his head up as he turned to leave, calling nonchalantly over his shoulder. “Get comfortable. These four walls are the only thing you’re going to be seeing for a long time.”

---

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #ts virgil #unsympathetic virgil #analogical #I Know What You're Going To Say #villain writes

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tsbikersau · 4 years

Text

Christmas Special

Hi folks! this one is a bit different from the other ones. I feel like you deserve a heads up as to what you’re about to read: the first half is crack-like, if not crack in the best way possible (it was really fun to write and i hope it will be as fun to read). The second half is much, much softer (and shippier), so please, do get through the not-so-serious bit!

This is in the canon world but you may take it as a “what if” or just a parralell universe, or something that can happen in the future. This is NOT connected to what’s happening next in the main storyline at this point.

For everyone who celebrates Christmas, have fun celebrating, don’t eat too much and if you do, don’t feel bad about it, it’s Christmas, if not now then when?

For anyone who doesn’t but still gets to have a break, really do take at least a full one day off to relax and reload batteries. It won’t hurt if you give yourself just that one day, I promise.

For everyone reading, I hope you’ll like it!

Oh, and it’s a slight swearing warning for this one!

Word count: 1810

Craaaaaaash

Okay, that was more than enough, Logan thought as he stood up with enough force to shake the desk if he happened to hit it – which, fortunately for all the papers that were scattered on it, he did not – and walked to the door only to open it equally as abruptly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

He knew that there were people doing things in his garage, of course he did, there always were people doing things in his garage while on the clock, after all, it was their job which they were getting paid for. What they didn’t get paid for was destroying the living shit out of the whole working space.

Logan didn’t know what to focus on first. Patton was standing over a pile of spare parts that was probably the source of the loud noise, Logan deduced, as Patton was looking extremely guilty upon seeing his boss in the door, and started smiling apologetically.

Looking a bit further away, Remus was cackling because whatever he was trying to help Patton built just came undone and for some reason he found that hilarious – Logan grew concerned at the sound of said cackling, to the point of wondering if the noise that finally alarmed him wasn’t by change the man itself.

At the other corned there was Virgil crouching on a table, with his phone in his hand. Why did he have to be up there to record whatever was happening, Logan had no idea, and frankly, he was so used to the oddities of his fellow mechanics that he might have as well let this one slide.

As soon as he noticed that the phone is not directed at the pair opposite to him but slightly to the side, his eyes followed suit and he saw Roman on a stool, trying to put a star on top of a tree that was way too big for the small space it got crammed into (when did he even manage to bring this thing to the garage?), the racer just barely keeping his balance. So the question why Virgil was even recording got answered.

“What the HELL is going on here”, Logan finally found his voice and yes, that was the question that was the most important. He threw a look that clearly transferred the message of ‘clean this up’ at Patton and the pile, which finally made the man move, maybe a bit too quickly because he stumbled on one of the parts and had to be caught by Remus in order not to fall and slice his face open, to which Virgil’s instinct turned on the “action mode”, and he was right beside the pair in no more than two seconds.

The fact that he, too, in his haze stumbled on his own feet didn’t go unnoticed, but he caught himself without help and was soon asking Patton if he was alright.

Seeing all of that unfold in just a few seconds, Logan started moving from the doorway to stand beside Roman in case he was the next one to stumble. He didn’t think about that too much, acting on instinct for once in his life.

Lo and behold, Roman got startled when he glanced over to check if everyone’s still alive and saw Logan right there, causing him to wobble on the unsteady stool and fall right into Logan’s arms.

The impact came unexpectedly and made them both tumble to the ground after a quick second when both of them thought Logan would be able to keep them upright (which he certainly could have, he just wasn’t ready for the momentum to be this strong).

(Roman would be very impressed and very flustered, so while a part of him was wailing because of the embarrassing situation and the fact that his ego got bruises too, a small part of him was glad that at least he wasn’t blushing like crazy staring up at the nerd from his arms).

They both got up from the ground, groaning, accompanied by the very same inhumane cackle from before, to which Roman answered with a middle finger as soon as he finished dusting himself off.

“Can somebody, please, explain to me what is happening?” Logan asked once again, scanning the room once more as well, noticing more Christmas decorations on the walls and stopping to give each of the men in the room a few seconds of his unfiltered stern look.

“Christmas is coming!”, came the answer from Patton, though he soon regretted bringing the attention to himself as Logan focused his eyes on him. “So… We thought… We could decorate a bit?”. He moved his hand to adjust his collar and glasses, realising that it might not have been the greatest idea.

“In the garage?”. Logan raised his brow, voice steady.

A nod.

“With all of the materials scattered everywhere?”

Another nod, more unsure. The rest of their little group starting to grow concerned of how calmly Logan was taking it.

He just took a deep breath and sighed, pinching his nose.

“Just clean this mess up”, he motioned to whatever was meant to be done from all those metal that still laid on the floor, “and you can focus on that tree since it’s already there”, he added, knowing that if they had a star, they must have had other decorations as well.

Patton squealed and jumped to give Logan a quick hug before he could really change his mind.

Virgil was smiling slightly as he bent down to start cleaning up, seeing as Patton got immediately pulled to the tree, forgetting of the first request Logan made. He didn’t really mind that.

“Thanks, Lo”, he heard right next to him, looking at the racer for a second before asking him to not let Patton try and get the highest branches and leaving for his office once more, this time hoping for no such disruptions.

***

It was after a few hours, when Logan had heard them say goodbye and the space behind his door grow more and more quiet with each bout of time when he finally finished all that his position required him to do. He was finally free to close up and rest.

He stretched before standing up, fingers rubbing at his eye under his glasses as he made sure everything was turned off and got ready to leave. Long hours in front of the computer were never the softest on his eyes, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage.

The main lights in the garage were off, but the strings of Christmas lights his mechanics used to line the walls were strong enough to cast everything in a moderately strong glow, while also making the place look quite cosy.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the tree, somehow organised in its disarray.

“Oh, you’re still here?”, a voice said suddenly, startling Logan a bit before the figure of the star racer came into view. “You shouldn’t work so late”.

“There is nothing I can do about that”, he answered simply, watching the other walk towards him before stopping at his side, turned so that he could look in the same direction.

Roman hummed a short sound before changing the subject. “The lights really set the mood, huh? Wonderous how just a few strings of colourful lights make everything look so different.”

Logan didn’t say anything to that, letting himself drink in the quiet and peace of the place that’s usually full of chatter and different machine sounds, from the roar of the engines to the clattering of accidentally dropped tools.

He let himself close his eyes just for a second, fully enveloped in the pleasant surroundings, forgetting about Roman being there in the first place. This was his safe heaven, owned by him, giving him the means to support himself and to be himself with the company of his own choosing.

He was brought back to the reality when he heard a small laugh from the side, immediately frowning at the conclusion that it must be directed at him, but when he looked at his companion his eyes were cast upon the ceiling, confusing him for a second.

“Roman”, he spoke up, tone level, when he followed his fellow’s line of sight. “Did you put mistletoe in my garage?”.

This question made Roman laugh out loud, the sound tinted with surprise and humour.

“I didn’t! I would have remembered if I did, Mr. Big Boss”. Roman looked at him, smiling, and that’s when the situation fully set in and Logan’s heart started to beat a little faster.

The fairly lights and the dimness of the rest of the garage, just how close they were, the smile shining all the way to Roman’s eyes that moved away from Logan , leaving him staring at Roman’s profile – there was something that made the whole situation feel like a dream.

The silence, though, was getting prolonged. Not tense, not asking for one of them to break it, but prolonged.

“I do think traditions should be celebrated, but I don’t demand it”, Roman said after a while, casual, keeping his voice vague enough so that his words may be easily converted into a topic for conversation rather than hinting at the sole action.

Somehow, that was the thing that made Logan feel the warmth of the season even more, or maybe it was just the warmth of Roman as a person? He was sure there was no other who could make their consent clear without any pressure on the other person to act on it in any way, and to do it in such gentle and clear way without being explicit…

Well, Logan was always partial to poetry.

And there is was, a kiss on the cheek, nothing more than the slightest brush of lips, to fulfil the tradition Logan would never predict he’d want to fulfil.

"Thank you" Logan said quietly after moving back just a tad, lingering close for a short second longer, looking at Roman's face with consideration before moving back to stand in their previous position, side by side, looking at the decorated interior. He wasn’t entirely sure how Roman would interpret that gratitude, but it didn’t matter at the time.

As soon as he moved, Roman's eyes glanced at him, the smallest bit of the smile he was desperately trying to hold back showing through, making Logan smile the slightest bit as well.

Roman stepped to the side, closing the distance once again, making their hands brush but not making any moves to do anything else. It was nice, Logan more felt than thought. The contact was relaxed and unobtrusive, open but not demanding. They both felt like this was enough, at least for now.

It was quite an eventful day and that peaceful moment was its ideal conclusion.

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

Masterpost

Tag list: @mxxangel @mariita-2006 @compactdiscdraws

#sanders sides #logince #tsbikersau #sanders sides fic #logince fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #crackfic (a bit)#swearing tw

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a-ghostlight-for-roman · 4 years

Text

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least.

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin.

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!”

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention.

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream.

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

Text

Sisterly Hug

Note: Started writing this when I couldn’t fall asleep one night, and I ended up thinking of you, friend. Just you, @partialdignity.

Since it’s not June 30th by the time I post this, eh. I’ll say it anyway.

Happy Birthday, Carim. Just remember, even in the anxiety-filled moments, that I appreciate you and love you platonically, okay? Besides, it’s hard for Be Vy to lie these days. :)

I did my best to write Rem based on your Bonds {Redux} and this image Pan shared a while back. Otherwise, here’s the song I was listening to while writing. Please listen to it while reading, friend. :)

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

It wasn’t the first time Vy found herself quiet. It wouldn’t be the last either, where her voice would be the first thing to leave her from exhaustion. As much as things were slightly easier now that Chaldea had a home again in the Wandering Sea, it didn’t change the main situation at hand.

The Crypters were still at large, the Foreign God was a threat that couldn’t be ignored, and the Lostbelts couldn’t be left alone forever.

It didn’t stop Vy from feeling like someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. Maybe she should’ve taken Robin’s suggestion of napping earlier, just to have more energy for later things, such as cooking practice with Arturia. It would’ve prevented the current situation where she felt like a zombie stumbling throughout Novum Chaldea in an attempt to find somewhere comfy to be. Magic energy drain wasn’t fun, especially when she was starting to get used to it on a daily basis. Mom and Dad would probably be having a heart attack, not to mention Mash and Goredolf.

But instead of resting in bed, Vy found herself barely hanging onto a whiteboard and a dry erase marker, gaze lingering on the only other Master in the Wandering Sea.

Rem didn’t flinch once Vy slowly flopped down to sit next to her on the only bench in the hallway, sparing a small glance from her Chaldea-brand tablet before going back to her screen of what looked like team compositions. “Vy,” Rem started softly, brushing a stray strand of curly blue hair behind her ear, “shouldn’t you be napping?”

Vy weakly raised her left hand to gently poke Rem’s shoulder through the sleeve of her mystic code, making sure Rem had her attention on Vy’s whiteboard before uncapping her dry erase marker to scribble.

Can’t sleep yet, she eventually wrote, showing the words to Rem before taking her whiteboard back to write more. Saw you around and wanted to see how you were doing.

Even without raising her head, Vy could vaguely make out Rem’s fond exasperation through the shade of her long brown hair as a hand proceeded to nudge her shoulder in return. “I’m just planning for the next Lostbelt, Vy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” A quiet chuckle echoed in the hallway and it took Vy a few seconds too long to realize it was Rem who did it. “Too tired to use your voice?”

Vy took the cap of her dry erase marker, exposing the fuzzy eraser tip to wipe away at her whiteboard before pressing the marker to the surface again. Always get like this when there’s been too much prana use, Vy eventually “said,” weakly shrugging her shoulders. Hard to talk. Original Da Vinci gave me the board and marker. Something about it running without worry on ink refills. Vy stopped, considered, then erased her surface to finish her point with a shakier, Magic? Dr. Roman always smiled whenever I talked to him like this.

“Ah,” Rem said. A small pause followed, then the hand on her shoulder gently pushed again (almost as if saying, hey, no nodding off here, amiga) as Rem added, “What were you farming this time, mija?”

Embers and Blue Skill Gems, Vy wrote, doing her best to fight a particularly heavy blink of her eyes as warmth started to settle into her chest. Rem called her mija again. Maou-san and Nagetora-san needed a lot of them. And then there’s the two Nero-sans…

Writing the actual “dot dot dot” on the whiteboard seemed to have taken Rem out of whatever she was looking at because her shoulders were shaking and Vy could hear laughter even through the blank haze of her brain. “U-Understandable,” Rem said, snickering. “Mija, you seem to have a knack for getting all the Knight classes.”

Maybe? Vy wrote, slowly tilting her head up to look at her friend, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose enough to make Rem’s form appear blurry. From habit, Vy pushed them up to readjust her eyes before writing the next thought to come to mind. Dunno why Maou-san decided to visit and I can’t exactly speak for the Neros when Big Robin wasn’t happy about it, but it happened, so…

“The two Roman Kings could use a few lessons in humility and singing,” Rem agreed with another hastily hidden chuckle, her fingers proceeding to smooth out a wrinkle on the shoulder of Vy’s white dress. “But don’t let them know I said that.”

I won’t, Vy responded, raising her head to give Rem a small smile. I prefer hearing your voice, Daddy’s, or Mash’s instead. Vy did her best not to flush red as she carefully wrote after a second of thought, Maybe Big Robin’s voice too.

Rem paused, flushing a little at Vy’s whiteboard message before glancing at her with a curious look in her eyes. “Your dad sang?”

Enough to make all the girls at his community college like him, Vy “said”, a weak giggle echoing in her throat. English, Vietnamese, he was good at both. Japanese could be here-there, but it didn’t matter. He sang for Mommy at their wedding. “Lady in Red,” I think, from the 80s. Everyone in the family loved it.

“He must’ve been really good, then, if he did that much on their special day,” Rem said softly, a curious smile tugging at her lips. Her attention was nowhere along the tablet’s electronic display now. “But what about you, mija?”

Vy quietly tilted her head at her fellow Master, lowering her dry erase marker.

Rem could thankfully read the question in her eyes and shrugged, the smile widening enough to stretch her cheeks. “Don’t you sing too?”

…Kinda? Vy wrote, raising her free hand to wave it back and forth in the air once the message was fully written on her board. Practiced on my own. Watched Daddy sing a lot, but I'm not gonna do it now, though. For extra emphasis, Vy opened her mouth, and Rem watched as a very hoarse yet quiet “See?” left Vy’s throat. As soon as Vy said her part, she closed her mouth just as quickly, going back to her whiteboard with a faint pout. Talking takes energy, Vy eventually scribbled to Rem. So no singing.

“But you’re talking to me right now, mija,” Rem said teasingly.

Vy allowed herself a single vocalized “Muu” while choosing to scoot over and bump Rem’s shoulder with hers. You’re different, Vy eventually wrote after the tinge of “Ow” subsided from her upper arm. You’re cozy. You’re Chị Rem.

“Vy…” Rem trailed off for a moment, enough time to make Vy duck her head and wonder in a brief period of anxiety if she said something wrong, before a hand rested on top of her hair. “You never did explain what Chị meant in Vietnamese.”

It took almost the rest of Vy’s battery to catch herself from unintentionally dropping her marker. That’s…

Vy looked up at Rem past her hair, and Rem smiled at her. “Hm?”

Vy felt her cheeks flush with heat before she realized it, and in a bit of a flustered panic, she turned back to her whiteboard and willed all of her remaining energy into her marker-holding hand. Her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose from the resulting sweat didn’t even matter anymore.

A moment was all it took. Maybe even a minute or two if estimating.

Chị is a pronoun of sorts in Vietnamese, Vy eventually wrote in small lettering, sliding the whiteboard to Rem once she was done. It’s usually used for a young adult woman and/or someone you consider a sister. And you’ve been with me like a big sister, especially through the Lostbelts and everything else since, so…

Rem didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time, having put her tablet down to instead hold Vy’s whiteboard in her hands. Vy noticed how Rem’s brown eyes had stopped at the “sister” part of the message, lingering on the scrawled letters, and something in her chest tightened.

With the last free corner on the board not covered by Rem’s thumb, Vy gently tugged at it to scribble one last time to her fellow Master.

Could I hug you, Chị Rem?

Rem raised her head from her place having previously ducked her mouth into the dark collar of her Winter Chaldean Mystic Code, brown eyes wide. “Vy?”

With no space on the whiteboard left, Vy carefully opened her mouth again, ignoring the scratchiness of her throat. “P-Please?”

You look like you need one.

Rem closed her eyes, ducking her head to face the bench beneath the two of them in what appeared to be conflicted thought and/or consideration, and Vy tilted her head patiently.

“Chị Rem?” Vy tried faintly, ignoring the urge to blink.

Lines formed between Rem’s eyebrows as she proceeded to raise her head and give Vy an expression caught between what looked like tears and a bright, bright smile. “…A-As long as you get a nap afterwards,” Rem said finally, a tiny crick in her voice too as she reached out with her other arm, draping it over Vy’s shoulders. “Else Robin might have my head.”

Vy reached over with her arms too, wrapping them around Rem’s waist and feeling a sigh leave her lips once her forehead found a resting place in the collar of Rem’s Mystic Code. Warm. “H-He… won’t,” left her weakly as she squeezed. “Wanted to… be here…” It was getting harder to keep her eyes open by each passing second.

Wanted to be with you…

Still, above her head, Vy could feel Rem start to laugh, and she politely chose to ignore the wet droplets starting to soak the top of her hair. “You’re too nice, mija,” Rem murmured, a hand rubbing Vy’s back through her dress. Even in a sleepy haze, it was hard to miss Rem’s warm, “Thank you.”

In spite of all that, Vy wasn’t sure if she said “Aye” or not back.

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

The next thing Vy was vaguely aware of when opening her eyes again was the white ceilings of a Chaldean hallway. Her legs were limp, her arms felt heavy, and there was something vaguely blue and green in front of her…

Wait, was someone carrying her?

“You’re awake, Princess?”

The lack of any prana proved Vy’s voice was still not back in commission yet, and even opening her mouth seemed like a bad idea because a green-gloved hand was then reaching over to gently shush her with one pointer finger. “You pushed yourself too hard, Vy. What did Dr. Roman tell you about daily naps?”

Helps… Rejuvenate energy, Vy mustered with her mental voice.

Even without her glasses (did someone take them off?), it was obvious through the blurriness that Robin was smiling. “Good,” he said, lowering his hand to instead tug at the two mantles sitting atop Vy’s chest, and if not for the lack of prana, Vy felt tempted to squirm a little. When did the Servants get the chance to make a mantle burrito? “At least you remember that.”

Guilt dug into Vy’s heart before she found her voice again. I… missed my naptime, huh?

Nearby, Vy could vaguely hear Achilles start to whistle as a strand of blonde hair tickled her cheek. “You very much did, Princess,” Arturia said in a firm yet gentle voice, making herself known through the words and the steady hands holding Vy up underneath Vy’s shoulders and knees as they all continued to walk… well, wherever. “Rem was the one to alert us.”

Darn… I thought I could stay up a bit longer…

“Please don’t jinx it, little sparrow,” Robin Hood mused lightly, but Vy could sense the concern through their bond as his gloved hand proceeded to tuck Vy further into the blanket/mantle burrito of No Face May King and King Arthur’s cape. “The last thing we need is that red Archer having another aneurysm over you eating Saint Quartz instead of lunch just to keep grinding materials that are hard enough to find as is.”

It… saves Apples, eating Quartz, Vy thought, almost childishly too, as she rested her ear against Arturia’s shoulder. Got all the Embers at least. So Shirou shouldn’t complain… that much.

Vy didn’t even need her glasses to know all three of her Grailed Servant companions were rolling their eyes. “Doesn’t help,” Achilles quipped dryly for all of them. “You’re our Master and Princess, Vy. Start cherishing yourself better. Melted glass isn’t a good meal for anyone, even if it's magic and not going to give you a stomachache anytime soon.”

Muu.

Robin’s gloved hand was then there in her face, and Vy barely moved once a pointer finger was gently poking her forehead. “No cute noises of protest from you.”

Muu, Vy thought anyway.

Once Arturia was giving Vy a look past Robin’s hand, though, Vy amended it with a softer, Gonna try to do better. A second later, Vy turned her head to look up at the King of Knights and opened her mouth again. “Art… san?” left her throat in a weak kind of squeak, but in spite of the volume, it was enough to get the Saber’s attention since Arturia’s stern look had dropped for one of concern and fond wonder, green irises warm in Vy’s direction.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where’s…” Vy coughed a little, shutting her eyes once her body finally decided to let all the fatigue from the day’s efforts come crashing down. Chị Rem? Still need to bake her another cake… bled through their mental connection instead.

Above her head, Vy could vaguely make out Robin and Achilles sharing some kind of look, but instead of an immediate reply, Arturia simply smiled, a chuckle rumbling through her chest armor as the hands on Vy’s figure shifted, lifting her up enough for a forehead to touch hers.

“You’re too kind for all of us, Princess,” Arturia whispered softly. “And your Chị Rem will be fine. Bake today or another day, I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”

All Vy could do at that moment was smile back. “Aye,” finally left her mouth in her best attempt to reassure the Saber carrying her. Gonna do my best, she eventually thought to herself, holding onto the sentiments so that the other Servants wouldn’t get worried. Need to… make big sis happy.

It was another promise.

#short story #mastersona vy #rem #birthday gift #writing #passing days #fate grand order #based on real life experiences #long post #arturia pendragon #achilles #robin hood

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