#logan-centric fic

[platossoulmates]

i make myself giggle i’m not going to lie

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Janus-centeric highschool au fic, when?

When?

[jungle321jungle]

False Dawn: Two

For his entire life, Janus Ekans had done whatever he could to prove himself and rise in the ranks of his father’s court, but it was all worthless in the end. Now, the only path to survival is to rely on his father’s killer, Duke Logan Ackroyd, even if it means discarding his pride and blood ties. It might not be freedom, but at least it won't be his head rolling on the floor next.

~~~~

False Dawn:

Idiom: A situation that looks like it is beginning to improve when, in reality, it is not.

Read on Ao3 - All Chapters - Masterlists

The days of travel to the capital were long, to say the least. And things weren’t exactly improved by the fact that he hadn’t seen the Duke since he had demonstrated his magic. It made sense of course; the Duke had said he needed to speak with his emperor before anything else, but the passage of time had caused the seeds of doubt within Janus to grow like weeds. But it was too late to escape. 

It was more than clear to see where the border between the two nations lay. Even if the large wall and gate weren’t here, it was quite easy to determine. Because moments ago they had been paraded through a border town past all the commoners who looked on in shock, awe, and worry. Moments ago Janus had heard their chitters and felt their gazes as he kept his head hanging low. Moments ago there was so much going on, and now there was nothing. On this side of the gates, the grasses appeared dull in color, or they had withered entirely. The trees were trying and failing to sprout their leaves, and silence rang loud. As they went on into the dying forest, he couldn’t even hear a sound other than the convoy itself. No birds singing, no wind blowing, no animals scurrying. The air itself felt heavier than air ever should, and the smell of death pierced his nostrils. 

This was the curse his father had placed. 

He had only ever known a few things about the curse. First, he knew that his father had gone to war against his mother’s homeland in order to get what he needed to cast it after they had refused involvement. Second, he knew that the blood of the former kingdom of Osteria had served as a catalyst for the curse. And third, that it had crippled The Angoro Empire. He had asked questions in the past, how it managed to take down an entire nation, he had asked how people had let his father do this, and he had asked why The Empire was believed to be a threat… and yet now, seeing its effects with his own eyes, he realized he had been asking the wrong questions all along. Now he knew that it crippled them by seemingly sucking the life from any and everything. People had let his father do such a thing because they were too cowardly to stand up to a tyrant- but that was a feeling he knew well. And his father’s greed had been the reason to do this, not because they were a threat but because it was what the tyrant king had chosen to do. He knew all of these answers, but he still never asked until now what he could do to help? Before, it had just been a fact of life that The Empire was cursed. But now that meant something different, and he knew the lump of guilt in his throat meant nothing to anyone here. 

The feelings of guilt only increased the next day as they rode through the first village on this side of the border. 

They rode through slowly, but Janus couldn’t tell if it was due to the Duke choosing to parade them through or if it was due to the village’s condition. The village seemed as if it had been bathed in gray. The homes were small, and many were in different forms of disrepair. Some spots were crumbling, other homes were caved in, and some looked like they had been repaired over and over and yet still it hadn’t worked. The villagers themselves looked starved, but given the dead and empty fields they had passed, Janus supposed it made sense, but it didn’t make it any easier to see. He never knew skin could sit that close to bone, or that a person could be so skinny, or how hollow a person’s face could look. 

His siblings seemed to be thinking the same, as Janus’ youngest brother asked, “What happened to them?” 

The boy was quickly hushed, but his question went unanswered as none of them wanted to speak the truth in front of the victims. But given the silence around them- the silence in which a normal village would have shouts of joy, anger, chatter, laughter, or the sounds of various animals as opposed to this horrific silence- given the silence around them Janus could hear the words spoken in the wagon ahead of them. 

“It’s horrible,” someone had said quietly. He wasn’t sure who, but he heard the Crown Prince respond. 

“Idiot! It’s their own fault!” he spat, drawing Janus’ gaze. The Crown Prince’s clothes (much like the rest of them) were soiled and ripped, his hair was matted to his forehead and sticking up at odd angles, and despite his dirty appearance and his hands bound, he still seemed as proud as the crown askew on his head. He sat up straighter, seemingly knowing he had the attention of everyone within a mile, and looked out at the villagers with a sneer. “They were going to use their magic to destroy us. Don’t waste your pity on those who get what they deserve.”

The silence was suffocating. Janus waited a moment, and then another, and another. Waiting for someone- likely one of the knights to remove his brother’s head, but the swing of a sword never came.

The former Queen gave a slight yet still visible sigh of relief before she spoke, “You can’t say-”

 A sword swing never came- but the rock did. 

Janus only noticed it the moment before it knocked the crown off the smug man’s head. It fell to the wagon floor with a clatter, and as the blood began to fall down the crownless Crown Prince’s face, so did more rocks. All at once, they seemed to come through both sides of the bars, and yet all Janus could do was use his arms to cover his face. The silence was gone now. Now was the sound of rocks hitting skin and shouts of pain that were drowned out by the screams of anguish the villagers let out as they let the stones fly. He kept his head down and covered as he scanned his siblings in the wagon with him. The three younger ones had made their way into the middle, and the others were trying to block the stones with their bodies. Janus squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as a well-sized stone struck the center of his back, but ultimately, he scooted forward to circle them as well. And as the pelting continued and blood began to trickle from his head, his arm, and his back- he ultimately chose to undo the progress he had made as he began to undo the bonds from the three youngest children. He wouldn’t fully free them. He couldn’t go that far… but at least he could give them a chance to protect themselves. Janus’ gaze drifted behind him to the shouting and jeers, and he couldn’t help but notice a child who appeared to be on his last leg- and yet, with the little strength he had, he threw pebbles at the wagons. 

Janus closed his eyes as he looked forward once more as guilt and other emotions he had repressed seemed to bubble to the surface. He could almost laugh at himself- what had happened to his perfect mask? What had happened to his unaffected gaze? What had happened to his false confidence? He had been full of it back in the ballroom when the Duke was a hair's width away from taking his life- but here and now… Janus squeezed his eyes tightly as another stone slammed painfully into his hand, and yet he refused to let a tear shed. He had no right to do so, not here… not in this Empire. Not after all his family had done. And not after what he- what he personally had done. 

~~~~

His family kept their mouths shut throughout the next stops on their journey. The locals they passed either watched in silence or cursed in loud whispers, but no more rocks were thrown- but he didn’t doubt that some had considered it. Throughout all of it, the soldiers had paid them nor their wounds no mind, the closest thing to concern being allowing them the choice to dunk their bloodied and dirtied bodies into a river they crossed, which was a color far from blue. Upon looking at the gray and thick water, Janus instead had negotiated to use a bit of the drinking water he was allotted to wipe some of the blood from his face, to which a soldier had simply told him not to complain about it later. But thankfully, none had beat him or even shouted at him for freeing his younger siblings from their bonds, likely assuming that they were no threat. But then again Janus refused to get complacent in his assumption that this wouldn't come back to haunt him later. 

A thought that was perpetuated by the convoy’s sudden halt one afternoon and the Duke’s approach to the prison wagon. His eyes had scanned them all with disinterest before his eyes locked with Janus’ and he stepped back as his knights moved to unlock the bars. Janus was slow to climb out as his muscles ached, but the moment his feet were touching the ground the man was leading him away. Janus followed as closely as he could as the Duke led the way up the hill they had been riding beside until they were far from sight of everyone else. 

“I’ve found another use for you,” the Duke stated simply as he came to a halt. “The scout I sent ahead didn’t return. Nor did the one I sent after her. I need someone who can follow their trail and get out quickly to tell me what’s ahead. Turn into a bird that should suffice… preferably one that’s small and fast.”

Janus would never admit how much he hated the fact that he wasn’t given an option, so rather than agreeing, he asked a question. “Why do you need scouts in your own empire?”

The look the Duke gave in response screamed he was wondering if Janus’ intelligence had plummeted to a depth below zero, but he answered nonetheless. “Monsters were part of our well-deserved curse.”

Janus couldn’t hide his grimace at the man’s sarcasm, “I can’t stay in non-human forms for too long.”

“Then be quick about it.”

“But I-”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Prince Janus.”

“I understand that,” Janus tried slowly. “But Duke-” Janus tried to hide his anger and surprise at himself as it suddenly struck him that he didn’t know who he was speaking to. He knew well that there were three dukes of the empire and one archduke underneath the crown, but of the three, he had no clue which this man was. The man wore nothing to identify his house other than the navy and black color armor he shared with his soldiers, and while Janus had spent time learning the crests of the Empire, color had never been that important. Ultimately, Janus took a deep breath, attempting to make himself appear as if he was simply considering his phrasing as opposed to being the idiot he was. “What you’re asking of me is more than I think I can do. I won’t lie and say that I’m not concerned for my own life, but also, I think there needs to be more to this plan than simply, ‘turn into a bird and go check it out.’”

The Duke paused, considering before he seemed to give a nod, “I never said there wasn’t. I was going to explain further once you transformed. The road forward is a clearly marked one, but that doesn’t mean it’s without danger. I have some chalk in a pouch. I’ll tie it to your leg and periodically, you can stop and mark a tree for us to know it’s safe up to that point. Simply come back if your mana runs out, but if there are issues and you need to run, drop the pouch near the dangerous area, and we can use that as a marker as to where the battle will take place. Does this plan suffice?”

“Y-yes, it does.”

“Then transform and get moving. We’ll follow after some time.”

Janus nodded once and began to focus on the image he held of his mind of a crow and how it looked compared to his own body, and what he had read about the animals in the past. It was a form he didn’t particularly like, but clearly, it was one which was necessary. The Duke reached down with an unaffected gaze and bent down, and Janus watched as a small sack was tied to his leg. He gave a few experimental flaps as he lifted off the ground, happy to find it didn’t weigh too much. 

If the Duke was pleased, he didn’t show it; rather, he simply gathered Janus’ grimy clothes and tucked them under his arm. “Then you should get going, Prince Janus.”

Janus gave a curt nod as he began to fly upwards out of the trees, but he nearly fell back to earth in surprise and embarrassment when the Duke spoke again. 

“Ackroyd. I am Logan, the Duke of Ackroyd,” Janus glanced back to see the man’s arms were crossed and a slight smile played on his lips. “But you knew that, of course.”

Rather than reply, Janus let out a caw as he took to the skies.

The feeling of wind in his feathers was something he always enjoyed when he took such a form. Transforming into a bird and feeling the sensation of flight was something that never failed to entice and excite, but now was not the time for the luxury of having fun. From here above the trees, there wasn’t much he could see beyond the tops of barely living trees themselves and the dirt road they were meant to follow. So, without having much choice but to do as he was asked, he glided down towards the road and began to fly above the trees beside it. He flew a slight distance and around a bend where he knew the convoy would not be able to see, and he picked a tree visible from the road. But as he approached the tree, he silently wondered who exactly he was supposed to get the chalk on it. Yes it was tied around his ankle, but who was he supposed to leave a defined mark on it without reaching a finger into the bag? His wings didn’t have the kind of dexterity to do as he pleases while keeping aloft. 

He paused for a moment before, ultimately he decided to try something. He picked a low-hanging branch that was clearly visible from the road, and after backing up a bit, he flew just barely over it so the bag of chalk would bump into it. The bag did so- thankfully without snagging- and upon flying backward a bit, there was a mark of chalk left on the branch. It wasn’t much, however, so he could only hope the knights had good eyes. 

He moved quickly to get the job done, but also because his nerves were rising with each passing moment. He knew he didn’t have long in this form- but he wasn’t sure how long that was. His magic had been something he had honed to take the form of others to aid in lying for whatever he had needed (which, more often than not, was simply to sneak out of the castle from time to time). This was something he simply wasn’t used to, and yet he had no choice but to continue. Janus flew on, trying to focus on the sound of anything other than his quick beating heart and the sound of his wings. He marked tree after tree with ease, but his anxieties only grew- if the scouts had truly been attacked by monsters, he should’ve seen or heard something by now, right? Or was he simply being impatient? He landed on a branch briefly and forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another, and another. Panic would only make this worse. He needed to keep calm. To remain unaffected. That is what he had learned to do in the past, and it’s how he would remain in the future. He had already learned the hard way what had happened when he let his mask slip too far. 

He took off. 

Flying and marking trees, as time progressed, his mana began to trickle away. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at this when weariness began to creep into his mind. He flew along silently, noting how the bag felt lighter than when he had started and wondering how much further he could make it before he needed to turn back. Upon marking another tree, he sat atop the branch he had marked and gazed at the road ahead. It looked the same as when he started, with dying trees on either side, but it seemed that a small amount of other plants had increased. It was nothing in comparison to a normal forest, but here, with the occasional bush, flowers, or trees that dared to have one or two green leaves, it only looked “healthier,” where the road curved around a bend to go around a hill. The bend didn’t appear too far, but it was hard to gauge in a form so different from his own, but ultimately he chose the bend as his final marking. After that, he’d fly back, or if he couldn’t make it all the way, he’d perch on a tree until the Duke caught up. Janus gave his wings a stretch before he lifted himself in the air. He soared ahead, honestly just ready for this entire day to be done with. He was ready to just go back to the prison wagon and sleep for two days straight to recover his mana when he rounded the bend. 

The first thing he noticed was the intense greenery. Yes, he had seen it improving, but now it felt as if he was in a real forest. The grass was tall and lush, the trees thicker and flourishing, and the wind that blew through even felt clear and kind. It was as if he had gone somewhere else entirely. It was curiosity that pulled him further in than he initially intended to go, but it was the second thing he noticed which stopped him from progressing much further. A lack of animals. It stood to reason that an oasis such as this should’ve had many animals within it as they tried to survive- but it would make sense that only the strong would. Only the predators- perhaps something like monsters. As panic rose within him once again Janus turned and began to fly back the way he came. He’d fly around the bend and then perch and peck off the string around his leg. He’d then go back and explain his worries. He hadn’t made it ten feet before he saw the third thing he hadn’t expected- a woman. She was short and sitting high up in a tree, but she wore the same colors as the Duke’s knights. One of her eyes frantically looked about as she searched for something Janus couldn’t see. Her other eye, meanwhile, was closed tightly as a stream of blood from her head kept it shut. One of her hands held a dagger close to her chest, which rose and fell quickly in panic. Her other hand held the tree so she could steady herself as she shifted slightly, but Janus watched as her face contorted in pain. Adrenaline had never felt so cold in his veins as Janus quickly perched himself on a tree beside hers and began to make work of a string holding the chalk. He pecked at it again and again, wanting it to fall so he could mark the place the soldier was for the Duke, but the woman herself kept drawing his eye in worry. She shifted again, and from this angle he could see as she tried to move one of her legs up onto the branch instead of simply dangling. But the three bright green protrusions that pierced her protested. Janus held in a gag at the sight of her bloody leg with the green things bored through- but he managed to get the chalk bag to fall. The moment he was freed, he leapt from the branch into the air to go find someone who could actually help- when he noticed the fourth thing. 

He had seen something move out of the corner of one of his eyes, and he barely had time to register the giant green blur- before it pierced his wing. A scream of pain escaped his lips as he fell- his body transforming as he did until he hit the ground, forcing out what little air he had within him. He couldn’t even muster up a groan as his arm screamed in pain from what he could now see was a giant green needle or thorn piercing his left forearm. The pain was searing- greater than anything he had ever felt, but he drove his teeth into his tongue, too afraid to move or even make a sound. But his eyes, wet with tears, did drift to the soldier in the tree and the pitying look she gave him. Sure, she wasn’t in a great place, but at least- unlike him- she was hidden, and she was clothed. 

Janus took a deep yet shaking breath as he tried to muster what little mana he had yet to turn into something that would allow him to flee just around the bend he had come from- but he couldn’t muster a single ounce of the power. He couldn’t feel his mana at al, as if it had been sealed off… he could almost laugh at the stupidity of it- of himself. And as the sun above him felt cooler as shadows looked over him and the sound of something approaching grew louder as the soldier stiffened in place, Janus couldn’t stop the tears in his eyes from falling. Nor could he stop the panic from making it harder and harder to breathe. He couldn’t stop the pain he felt. He couldn’t stop the creature from approaching him. He couldn’t do anything- but with the last of everything he had- he let out a scream.

~~~~

All Chapters

[bat-gwuck]

haha imagine plugging your fanfi-

[sanderssidesaddamsfamily]

a library visit

a visit to the library … and a lil smooch

[gossippool]

I've fallen hard for poolverine and I've read and loved your fic, do you have any fic recs you can share pretty please?

hi anon i do indeed!! i've been meaning to do a rec list eventually so thank u for asking. here are some fics out of the 14 i have bookmarked

twice upon an odyssey by lkst (E, 6k)

It would be tempting to say the propensity for physical violence in their relationship is gone, but nothing is created or destroyed, it would seem. While the urge to kill each other has faded it’s translated into tension between them hot and wet enough to grow orchids, and it’s taken the willpower of gods to keep them from fucking nasty about it. They're managing. The thing is, Wade doesn’t want to manage anymore. Wade drags Logan out on a little heist hoping to finally get him to make a move.

one of my favourites!! this is mostly smut but also some of the best characterisation of wade i've ever read and SO FUNNY. i giggled through the whole thing. sometimes humour in fics falls flat but not this time

deadpool/wolverine series by farmhandler (11k + 46k+)

i feel like recommending this series is a must tbh. only two fics in here so far and the second one is still updating but both are just. SO good. the first one is more wade-and-his-issues-centric and the second is more logan

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier (E, 10k)

The one where Wade gets stuck in a time loop, and he's determined to get Logan out of it alive.

time loop fics are so hard to execute well and this was just perfect. typical emotional toll of being stuck in a time loop is taken on wade so there's Angst

movin' out (deadpool's song) by jenniferlawrencelover (E, 36k)

Wade wasn't fond of change. Both in the life sense as well as the coin sense. So they might have to move houses? Okay. Sure, his tummy hurt a little more than usual when he thought too hard about it, but he could move past that. Would move past that. Eventually. Probably. Most likely not. Probably not at all. Wade didn't do change.

GODDDD i love this fic. it is so gorgeously written i think i have some parts screenshotted which is how you know it's good. brilliant exploration of both wade and logan

where soul meets body by edgebug (E, 34k)

In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.

no idea how to explain this but their minds kind of get intertwined??? ish?? and it's so fucking good the writing is just impeccable. angst and smut galore

guess by handfulofteeth (E, 16k)

Logan stops talking. He’s mid-chide, tossing his soiled paper towel onto the counter and about to reach for another one when his eyes land on Wade. He’s got his pajamas halfway down his thighs, clearly trying to avoid sticking his fingers all over the gooey fabric, and whatever, that on its own isn’t a big deal...What is a big deal, a huge, massive fucking deal, is what Wade’s wearing underneath his pajamas. Panties.

now this may seem like it's mostly smut and you would be right. but it is goddamn good smut (with a dash of angst) and just such an alluring read. their other fics are also just as good

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Role Reversal

Roman kept mentioning that he doesn’t like transformations and it kept reminding me of Patton turning into a giant frog and Janus disguising himself as other sides. It would be very cool and epic if you could make some Roman angst based off this concept (no pressure obviously) – anon

The song "I Am in Great Pain, Please Help Me" by Crywank reminds me so much of Roman (specifically, your brand of Roman angst). I was wondering if you had the spoons for it, to write something inspired by it? No pressure to, ofc! – anon

Perhaps something where Roman is comforting Logan and then after Roman leaves, Logan is like, “Wait, shit, I should have been comforting YOU!”. You know the scene in What Makes A Perfect Gift where Logan asks for Roman’s input and Roman looks genuinely surprised? The angst potential for Roman not thinking he’s needed at a BRAINSTORM is so slept on. I know you’ve had a lot of Roman angst asks lately so I understand if you don’t want to do it, but I definitely wanted to ask just in case! – anon

Roman angst disguised as Logan centric. Logan Sherlock fic about him trying to figure out why Thomas’s mental health is so bad. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman being insecure, logan being insecure

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3143

Logan feels stressed about Thomas's mental health and goes to Roman for help discussing a possible upcoming video, only for Roman to accurately guess that Logan's feeling insecure about his own role in keeping Thomas happy and healthy. Little does Logan know: there's more going on than meets the eye and it isn't until later that he realizes Roman's far more fragile than anyone could've guessed. After that, well, there's really only one course of action.

If Logan had not been paying very, very close attention, there is every possibility that he could have missed it.

He almost did; despite being entirely focused on his goal, he has to admit that it wasn't something he saw as necessarily related, and as such, dismissed initially as not relevant to solving the problem of why Thomas's mental health had been in a steady decline since the wedding. However, upon further reflection, he can conclude that not only was the sudden tightening of Roman's expression related, it was most likely the strongest indicator he's seen since he began.

"Sorry, Specs, I think my hearing cut out of a second there." Roman scratches the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Can you—can you say that one more time?"

"I believe it would be helpful for Thomas for us to do another 'low-key' video, as it were, and for you and I to work together."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"As we want to focus on recapturing some of Thomas's whimsy and zest for life—" here Roman's expression quirks towards amusement— "it would be apt for you to try and recreate some of the dreams Thomas has held onto in the past."

"Right, but not like—"

"Including transforming into those he aspired to be or the roles he aspired to fill," Logan finishes, frowning when there's that momentary tightness in Roman's smile again, "do you concur?"

"I—so I'm all for helping Thomas fall in love with his dreams again, you know, but, um…" He twists his fingers together. "I'm not sure that this is…the best way to do it?"

"You are the embodiment of Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Who else would be better equipped to help me?"

Roman blinks as if he hadn't been expecting the comment. Which is in and of itself a little odd; Roman typically never passes up the opportunity to remind them of his standing in Thomas's psyche, nor to claim credit for half of the things Thomas does even when it's far more of a group effort. "Right, but I don't see how me turning into various things would be helpful."

"Thomas is a very visual learner. It's been proven in the past via various theater productions and other activities that he thrives in environments where he can immerse himself in what it is he's doing. By having you, his Creativity, directly mimic the dreams he wishes or wished to obtain, we draw a more substantial connection between the Thomas that he is now and the Thomas he aspires to be."

Roman's mouth works. Logan frowns.

"If you have something you want to say, Roman, by all means, speak your mind. This brainstorm won't be nearly as successful if only one of us is contributing."

"Where is this coming from, Logan?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"This." Roman gestures back and forth between them. "This sudden need to 'fix' Thomas. You've been pretty clear with the rest of us that you don't think staying 'in his head' would be helpful, not when you're working so hard on your lists that you want him to do."

"Well, it's been pretty clear those aren't working, so—"

"But they have been. You know they have been—we all celebrated when Thomas finally managed to clean his kitchen and you were right, he did feel better afterwards. Your methods were working, are working."

Logan swallows. He did feel very accomplished after the last bowl had been placed in the cupboard, and no one had been happier than he when Thomas not only made himself dinner but cleaned up afterwards, but this was different. "Thomas deserves the drive to go after what he wants as well as doing the maintenance required to sustain his current lifestyle."

Roman nods. "And what sorts of things are those?"

"Roman, I don't understand—"

"Please," he interrupts, holding up his hands, "humor me?"

"You're the one who's Hopes and Dreams," he protests feebly, "you're Creativity. I'm not going to be good at coming up with them."

"Just try. You're better at it than you think."

"O-oh." He blinks. "Thank you, Roman."

"Of course."

"Uh—well, I think Thomas has a passion for filmmaking that he hasn't fully realized in shooting the YouTube videos due to the constraints of the channel."

"Okay."

"He's been enjoying doing the modeling shoots for Instagram as well. And he has a few shows that he wants to catch up on—not a dream, I know, but something he wants to do."

"That's good, Logan. What else?"

"Does he still have the dream of being an actor? On a more professional level?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, there you are, then."

Roman nods. "And if we go off of your transformation idea, what—what exactly would I be transforming into?"

He furrows his brow. "Well, you would be—if you were doing—I suppose you—ah. I see your point."

"It's not that there's something Thomas isn't that we need to make him into," Roman says quietly, "we can just remind him of the things that are already inside him that he can chase and pursue."

"…that is a very valid conclusion to have reached."

"He doesn't have to work all the time—I think both you and I know the dangers of letting yourself believe you can," he says with a gentle nudge to Logan's shoulder, "he can give himself time to rest and work on things that he wants to, not things that he has to."

"And I suppose making another video would be counterproductive to this aim, as it requires a level of work that would not be outweighed by the reassurance it might provide."

"I don't know if I would've said it nearly as well as you, but yeah, pretty much."

Logan sighs, closing his notebook with an almost despondent flap. "Then I suppose I have nothing else to work on."

"Good."

He frowns at Roman. "'Good?'"

"Well, now that means you can do the things that you want to do."

"M-me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did we not just go over how important it is to not be consumed by work all the time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Did we not just talk about how it's necessary to rest and do the things you want to do from time to time?"

"I don't—"

"Did you not just say that you have nothing else to work on right now?"

"I know what you're doing," he says, meaning for it to come out accusatory and missing dreadfully, "it's not going to work."

"Me convincing you to take time for yourself and enjoy spending your time how you want to spend it isn't going to work?" Roman grins, leaning forward onto his elbows, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Roman," he warns.

"What? It's not like I was the only one who came to this conclusion about Thomas a second ago, you were instrumental in figuring it out, Specs."

"Roman."

"And we all know that you're way smarter than I am, so if you're going to take your own advice—which you should, then—"

"Alright!" Roman laughs as Logan buries his face in his hands, trying not to smile too obviously at the praise or blush from how many compliments Roman's just given him, "you've made your point, you can stop now."

"I think you mean I've just reiterated your point, but that's alright." A warm hand pats his shoulder. "You're doing great, Logan. You don't have to stress out about this right now. Thomas has earned a break and so have you, okay?"

"…I suppose there are a few things I've been waiting to do that could occupy my time."

"There you go!" Roman claps his hands and gets up, affectionately ruffling Logan's hair and dodging his attempts to swat him. "Let me know how it goes, I'd love to hear about whatever you're working on."

Logan aims another swat at his shoulder and misses, watching Roman sink out. He shakes his head, unable to keep the growing smile off his face as he thinks about his own projects. Yes, there are several things he could do, he could work on refining the data for the experiment, he could read that study he's been eyeing for a few days, he could look over the manuscript he's drafting…

It isn't until he gets back to his room with a different notebook open on his desk that he pauses.

Why had Roman been upset at the suggestion of transformation?

They had agreed upon resting and doing what they wanted, letting Thomas do what he wanted. They had agreed that resting was good, pursuing one's own passions was good. What about transformations had rankled Roman so? He hadn't directly addressed it—something virtually unheard of for Roman. Perhaps it had been something to do with the act of transforming itself? But no, Roman had always been among the first to thrill at being someone else, or pretending to be someone else. What had caused such a dramatic shift?

What sorts of transformations had they done recently? There had been the whole thing with Remus—Logan suppresses a shudder as he remembers Remus's song and everything that happened in it—but Roman had been unconscious for most of it. Aside from that, it had been…

Well, Janus had been transforming into them more often than not, but that was him, mostly, not Roman. And Patton had become the giant frog, but that hadn't really affected Roman that much either. No, the last time Roman had been the one transforming, it had been…for…

Logan stands up, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance as his mind races.

Roman hadn't transformed for himself. It had always been at the whim of someone else. Roman was Hopes and Dreams—Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Roman did things for Thomas. He was Thomas's wants. Despite how often they all called him selfish, he…he didn't really fight for the things that he wanted.

Could he name a single thing that Roman wanted that wasn't something for Thomas?

I think you and I both know the dangers of believing you can work all the time.

There's nothing that Thomas isn't that we need to make him into.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers into the quiet room, "when did you get so good at hiding?"

He doesn't want to know the answer, but his mind is already coming up with a helpful list of every time he can remember where Roman let himself get pushed to the side, overruled, scolded, overlooked, for the sake of someone else. He thinks about the times where Roman had been obviously uncomfortable with what they wanted him to do, and then did it anyway. He thinks about how long it's been since he's actually heard Roman say what he wanted, not what Thomas wanted, not what Patton or Janus or even he wanted.

How long has it been since someone wanted Roman for Roman?

He looks back down at his desk and pulls out a different notebook. He's underestimated Roman. He won't go into this upcoming conversation unprepared.

***

He knocks on Roman's door as softly as he can, waiting for the quiet come in to push it open. Roman looks up from his—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Roman," he murmurs before he can stop himself, crouching next to Roman's slumped figure and carding a hand through his hair, "I'm so sorry."

"N-no, I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I can—" he scrubs a hand harshly across his face— "it's fine. What, um, what do you—"

Another sob interrupts him before he can finish asking if Logan needs anything, which only makes his chest ache all the more. He eases himself down next to Roman's buckled legs and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough to wipe a thumb across his cheek.

"Shh," he says when Roman tries to speak again, "don't stress yourself. I'm not here for anything other than this, little one."

The pet name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, but at the slightly wounded noise that leaves Roman's lips, he resolves to use them as often as he can. He scratches his nails lightly against his scalp, shushing him again when he tries to stifle another sob.

"I'm here because I realized I'd hurt you earlier," he continues, still speaking gently, "and I did not attempt to comfort you in any way. No, no—don't pull away from me, dear. Shh, don't fret, don't fret, I'm not upset—look at me, Roman, do I look upset?"

Roman's eyes, still filled with tears, roam frantically over his face. Logan keeps his expression as soft and open as he can, letting the concern write itself plainly over the furrow in his brow. After another moment, Roman sniffles and he's already reaching for the tissue box he can see perched haphazardly on the end of the desk. He takes it with a grateful mumble and blows his nose with a honk.

"You were right. You don't need to change to be worth something, or to be fixed. You don't need to become something you're not—oh, darling, hush, now," he says when Roman's eyes grow wide with distress, "I'm not angry, I'm not—oh, you poor thing."

For Roman had begun to sob in earnest, trying in equal parts to pull away from Logan's embrace and push himself near into his chest. Logan slides an arm under his legs and pulls them into his lap, tucking Roman's face into the crook of his neck and kissing the crown of his head. There's a moment where Roman tenses and he fears he might pull away, but then he all but collapses into him and buries his nose in Logan's shirt.

"There you go, little one, shh, it's alright. You can cry, crying is good. You're alright, you're safe, I'm right here." He runs his hand up and down Roman's back. "Shh, shh, that's it…that's it, my dear."

"Sorry—'m so sorry—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no apologies from you, not about this. You're overwhelmed and overworked, it's perfectly alright for you to be emotional right now. You can let it out, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm here to help."

"Help?"

"Mm. You took great pains to comfort me earlier, even when I did not ask, and you," and here he gives Roman a little shake, "have not let anyone comfort you in quite a long time. So yes, I am here to comfort you, to help, and if that means letting you cry in my lap for as long as you need, then that is what I shall do."

"It's so hard," comes the sniffling whisper from under his chin, "I keep—I keep trying to be what they want but they don't know what they want and then it's my fault and I can't—they keep changing and wanting me to change and I can't—"

"Shh, shh…hush, my dear, it's alright. That's right, just let me hold you…"

They spend a great deal of time like that, curled up on the floor. Logan keeps carding his hand through Roman's hair, soothing away the more violent of sobs with gentle touches up and down his back or patting his chest. How long has Roman been holding this in? How long has it been since their prince has let himself fall apart without remorse? And how long has it been since they took pains enough to notice?

He pulls himself from his own thoughts when Roman's head turns, bumping slightly against his chin. He tilts his head to press a kiss to his temple, leaning back just enough to see the blotchy face come into view. Taking another tissue, he carefully dabs up the last of the tears he can see, holding it so Roman can blow his nose again.

"…thanks, Logan."

"Of course, my dear." He raises an eyebrow at the little shudder that goes through him. "No?"

"N-no, yes. Yes. Very much yes. Sorry."

"None of that now, my dear. Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit."

"That's excellent. Shall we sit here for a little longer, or do you want to move somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"C-can we just stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course we can." He runs his thumb over Roman's cheek again. "I am truly sorry it took me so long to figure out what was going on, little one. But I'm here now."

Roman averts his gaze and once again Logan is struck by how different Roman is right now; no longer does he see their fiery prince who so eloquently made him take his own advice mere hours ago, instead he sees a shell of a Side who shies away from a gentle touch like a dog too scared to eat. The comparison alone is enough to coax him to lean forward and kiss his cheek, cuddling him against his chest.

"I'm here now," he repeats, "let me look after you."

"You will?"

"Yes, Roman, I will. I'm right here—" he pulls him a little closer— "I've got you, little one, you're alright."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now?"

"…anymore."

Logan's heart clenches in his chest and he forces the ache away, running his thumb over his cheek once more. "Well, what do you want to do right now?"

"I want to stay here."

"Then we shall stay here. And when you're ready to figure out what you want to do next," he says, adjusting them until they're both comfortable as can be, "I will be here to help."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[somefanficrecomendations]

SCOGAN FIC REC ROUNDUP

Walked out of Deadpool & Wolverine and immediately started reading scogan fics, for some reason.

Instinct by menel 37k, Action & Adventure, Feral Logan When Scott Summers crashes in the Savage Land, he finds himself dealing with the usual challenges: fighting dinos and other predators, meeting hostile natives, and generally trying to stay alive. But when he’s saved by a stranger with razor claws and a healing factor, everything changes. Now Scott and his new friend – plus some old friends – have to find a way off of the Forbidden Island, but nothing is as straightforward as it seems.

what yields the need by drunkonwriting 18k, Fluff and Angst In a fight against a rogue Asgardian, Scott gets turned into a kid. To everyone’s surprise, Logan is the one who ends up looking after him.

This Feeling that Words Cannot Describe by Theshapeoflove 1k, Hurt Comfort, Feral Logan The Wolverine's world has been guided by the deep, instinctual need for survival. He has been surrounded, always, by a myriad of sensory information and chemical signals that tell him what words cannot. Pain has always been the one most familiar. But this time, there is comfort in the aftermath, and the scent of warm skin and ruby lenses give an entirely different sensation.

And All That's Best of Dark and Bright (Meet in Her Aspect and Her Eyes) by Theshapeoflove 10k, Mission Fic, Torture Captured by mutant traffickers in the midst of a lover's quarrel, Scott and Logan are separated and held captive. Trapped with nowhere else to go, the two of them have to stay alive long enough to escape, but can they do that without each other?

All You Need is Trust by Jade_Dragoness 35k, Comicverse, Marriage of Convenience Logan had barely gotten used to not being constantly at Scott's throat when Cable shows up to tell them that for the future of the entire mutant race - actually for the sake of everyone on the planet - they need to get married. Logan is convinced this is a weird joke on both of them which Scott is clearly taking too seriously. Then he’s actually at the altar getting married to Scott Summers. Okay, he’s going to drink the entire bar dry now.

Dreaming in Color by ELG 75k, Hurt/Comfort, Scott Summers-Centric After Jean's death, Rogue and Kitty think it would do a grieving Scott good to have to supervise a field trip to get him away from the mansion. When they run into mutant hunters looking for new prey, Scott's decision to send the children home and go it alone angers pretty much everyone. It annoys Logan most of all.

[asco-bisco]

ugh-- tyler

guys tyler is soooooooo annoying like all he does is complain and fight with ashlyn and aiden and goof off, he's also super mean to logan and his sister like i hate him so mu--

oh.

I LOVE TYLER SM IM SO FIXATED ON THIS EPISODE AND THAT EPISODE ALONE

TYLER IS AMAZING I LOVE HIM AT A NORMAL AMOUNT I SWEAR

I SWEAR I DONT BASE ALL MY FICS OFF HIM I SWEAR I DONT GUYS LIKE I SWEAR I DONT HAVE MAYBE OVER 10 TYLER-CENTRIC FICS BC I LOVE HIM NO NO NO UR DELUSIONAL

ITS NOT LIKE I WENT BACK TO REREAD SBG JUST FOR HIM, NO WAY I WOULD DO THAT NO NONO NO ITS NOT LIKE I OBSESS OVER HIM AT ALL NO

okay but these panels-- they show his character so well, i love characters like him. the way he just puts other people before him and he was so shallow at the start too like he seemed like a huge jerk.

I love tyler guys, at a normal amount. I swear. Not on my life tho--

[pointycorgiears]

Hey! A fun (I hope) little game for ya !Drop your five favourite One Piece characters, and a song that makes you think of them (plus explanation if you want to)

Ooooo! I've been waiting for something like this! Where to start? XD

Crocodile

Castles by Freya Ridings - The first time I heard this song, I thought "CROCODILE!" Especially if taken from the perspective of a bad dragodile or dofuwani breakup. The castles he built are the casinos in the desert lol

Luffy and Dragon

Back 2 U by Steve Aoki & Boehm & Walk The Moon - This is my current theme song for my dragodile fic, Tower of Sand. Luffy and Dragon (& Crocodile) are off doing their own thing, and do not know if they will ever see each other properly again.

Mihawk

Dream (Boehm Remix) - Autograf - This was my theme song while I was writing The Starlighter. Mihawk is caught in the dream of Buggy's neverending blue hair.

Dear Prudence - The Beatles - Wrote another Mihawk centric fic with this as its title. The theme of the song fit well with what was happening to Mihawk in the story.

Buggy

Wonders - Klingande - This song reminds me of setting out on adventure, which fits with Buggy and the Buggy Pirates, and now Cross Guild going after the One Piece.

Law

Come Together - The Beatles - This song just gives me a Law vibe. It must be because of this lyric: hold you in his arms til you can feel his disease

Also, everyone in the world has covered this song, but shout out to Joe Cocker's version.

Thank you Logan! I have a lot more, (mostly Bughawk centered songs) but these are the top ones in my playlists right now.

[jungle321jungle]

False Dawn- Ongoing

For his entire life, Janus Ekans had done whatever he could to prove himself and rise in the ranks of his father’s court, but it was all worthless in the end. Now, the only path to survival is to rely on his father’s killer, Duke Logan Ackroyd, even if it means discarding his pride and blood ties. It might not be freedom, but at least it won't be his head rolling on the floor next.

~~~~

False Dawn:

Idiom: A situation that looks like it is beginning to improve when, in reality, it is not.

Ao3 - Other Masterlists

Chapters:

One

Two

Three

[papahunter]

I need logan centric fics bro

Someone please recommend some

[sanderssidesaddamsfamily]

A monster post

This is a collaborative story told by three friends, as a patchwork of one shorts and short stories. we update once a week, and have about two months of scheduled content as of making this post, and intend to continue this post schedule if nothing goes awry. here are all the links to the A03 stories. A new tutor.

Roman loves his boys. So much. But they do go through teachers rather fast...

Completed.

A funeral, A date.

Patton escorts Logan to a funeral to comfort. Logan is thrilled Patton agreed to a date. They are confused, your honor.

Completed.

A Library Visit. some interesting activity in the library. Completed.

A raven.

we meet inkblot, the main character, the best bird, and my beloved. Oh also, plot or whatever - Logan asks Patton a question.

Completed.

A new look.

they swap vibes. no plot just fun.

Completed.

A beau ideal.

we see the story of this families OTHER happy couple.

Completed.

A question.

Going to the chapel and we're gonna get - wait. No?

Ongoing (3/6)

A Helleborus bouquet

Set during a question. Logan is frustrated and sad... Patton grows flowers.

completed, but may be edited. Cabbage Patch Kids

1/5 in progress.

If you like our works, but wish this story was completely different, set in space and based on doctor who (though friendly to readers who don't know anything about who) that exists, and can be found at @hearts-thru-time-and-space. it is completed, and updates about once a week at the moment - though as life becomes more and more busy this may change.

As time goes on completed works may be edited for grammar.

[benslefteyebrow]

Hi! Hope I'm not bothering you but on one of your posts you mentioned you take fic reqs,

would you be able to write a benlor centric fic where everyone goes to an amusement park but Ben and Taylor hold off going on the bigger rides (Both dont mind going on rides as much as the others) so end up holding the bags for everyone and spending some time together? If not then that's 100% fine! Tyvm!!

Hiii thank you so much for this request! This was so fun to write! Hope you enjoy <3

Something Stupid - Benlor

Benlor, fluff, wc: 1313. Read with 'Something Stupid' by Frank Sinatra.

Ben didn’t have high expectations. 

Since losing his voice, he became used to solitude. Those around him were too impatient— unwilling to put up with a boy with anger issues and no way to communicate them.

Aiden was the only one who could understand him until the Sahara.

At first, it was obligatory and painfully awkward on occasion, but gradually, the forced meetups meant for planning became casual hangouts, and the stiff obligation to get along became a genuine connection.

“I want to go on that one!” Aiden pointed wildly at the large rollercoaster that the park was known for.  From the ground, they could hear the screams from the top large structure.

All their adventures brought them to Ash’s house, the arcade, and eventually— the amusement park.

“We just ate,” Ashlyn said exasperated.

“But the lines short,” Logan offered.

“Yeah, so, unless you’re…chicken,” Aiden teased. He was opposite to the way he was when they were kids. That made two of them.

“I’m in,” Tyler said. “Tay?”

Taylor shrugged with an uneasy smile. “No way, my stomach can’t handle it,”

Tyler’s confused expression didn’t go unnoticed by Ben, but it did go unnoticed by Aiden. “Ben?”

He shook his head.

“Shucks. You and Tay are on bag duty, then,” Aiden said.

Ben and Taylor sat at the edge of a nearby fountain. 

They put all the bags together in a somewhat neat pile at their feet.

Large groups of teens passed back and forth. The mists from the fountain sprayed Ben’s neck, but Ben was only focused on Taylor and her bouncing knee.

He tapped her and she startled in surprise. 

“What’s up?” she asked. She plastered on a small smile that didn’t hide her panic.

He held up his phone, and the music app opened on his screen.

“Oh, sure,”

Ben switched to the notes app and typed out, “U choose” before handing it to her.

He rummaged through Aiden’s backpack. He ignored the hand puzzles and other toys that Aiden would somehow use within the day and found his earbuds at the bottom.

Ben reached over and plugged the wire into the bottom of his phone.

He didn’t rush her, but he watched as she scrolled through his playlists, humming a song under her breath. He tried to remember what the song was called and made a mental note to add it to the playlist he made for her.

Her dark hair fell in her face, framing her warm skin. Ben was relieved that she seemed more relaxed.

“Mm, this one,” Taylor said. She pressed on one of Ben’s classic pop playlists, though he had a few of her indie rock ones saved. 

Still, he loved the peaceful vibes that came with it. It was his comfort playlist.

She kept the left earbud in his ear, and he accepted the right one from her. Their fingertips grazed and Ben took back his hand too quickly. He scooted closer as he adjusted the earbuds, allowing their shoulders to brush. Taylor bristled at first, but then she relaxed against him.

“You don’t like roller coasters?” Ben signed to her with clumsy fingers. It was Taylor’s idea to learn ASL for easy communication. Particularly, when they were in the phantom dimension and Ben didn’t have time to write to them. Taylor and Ben were both steadily improving at it.

Everyone else was learning it, Aiden in particular, but Ben and Taylor made the most progress.

“I do,” Taylor said slowly as she recalled the signs with her hands. “But not after eating. I don’t think my stomach could handle that.”

Ben nodded in understanding. “Lily always gets sick on rides.”

Taylor grimaced. “Poor Lily.” Her fingers fumbled over the precise letters. 

“Tyler?” Ben asked.

The panic returned to Taylor’s eyes and she glanced at the line. Ben followed her gaze, though the rest of the group had long since disappeared into the line. It looked like it was getting longer instead of shorter. 

“I used to force him to go on rides with me when we were little since our mom didn’t want to,” she said, though her fingers faltered. Ben listened intently, putting the music volume down to hear her better.

“He always said they were for kids, but I know he secretly loves them.” 

Her shoulders relaxed again against his calmness graced her features. Her brown lips curled into a small smile, pulling against her teeth.

“I’m happy to see him open up to everyone. He always tries to act so grown up, but he needs this,” Taylor looked at Ben and he was startled. "We needed this."

 He didn’t realize he was staring.

“Oh! I forgot to sign,” Taylor said. 

Ben shook his head, it’s fine, he didn’t say.

A comfortable, if not buzzing silence filled the space between them.

In the place of words, one of Ben’s favourite songs started. It was one his parents used to dance to together when he was a kid. He would along with it before his voice was ruined, and then they stopped dancing. 

I know I stand in line/Until you think you have the time/to spend the evening with me.

He wondered if they began dancing again after he moved in with Aiden.

“Do you like roller coasters?” Taylor asked.

Ben hesitated. “I did, but..” He signed slowly. It was lame, not worth admitting, but she’d just been vulnerable with him. He trusted her not to judge him.

And then I go and spoil it all/By saying something stupid like, “I love you”

His breath hitched.

“I can’t--“ won’t, his mind reprimanded him. “Scream. It feels…” his fingers curled into his palms.

“Like there’s something wrong with you?” Taylor offered.

He nodded. “That.”

They let the song fill the space again. Ben put the volume up, and Taylor hummed along quietly.

“This song is nice,” Taylor said.

I practice every day/To find some clever lines to say/To make the meaning come true.

He drummed his fingers against his pants, not exactly on the beat. It was a distraction from his quickening pulse.

But then I think I'll wait/Until the evening gets late/And I'm alone with you.

“Hey, Ben?” Taylor said.

He looked at her. He looked into her eyes and knew he must’ve heard his heart. Why was it so loud in his ears?

“When they get back, let’s go on a roller coaster together. Just us, and…” she tucked her hair behind her hair uncomfortably.

The time is right, your perfume fills my head/The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue.

“Whoever screams first loses,” Taylor said.

Though he knew the song from memory, he missed the lyric that came after over the snort that escaped him.

He slapped a hand over his mouth. The sound was pitchy. Did he always laugh like that? He couldn’t remember the last time he heard himself laugh.

But with Taylor, it came easily. She knew exactly what to say.

“Is that a…” Taylor’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Ben signed. “I’d like that,”

He dropped his hand from his face and it grazed Taylor’s thigh as it landed carelessly between them. He didn’t miss the way her finger grazed his or the way their pinkies locked as the last part of the song faded out.

I love you

They caught sight of the rest of the group from the line. They waved to each other until the movement of the line pushed them out of sight again.

I love you

Throughout it all, their pinkies stayed interlocked, and it was a sign of their promise.

I love you

[britney-rosberg06]

re: james logan centric fic… what can i do to convince you to write those ideas 👀

working on it 🫡

in the mean time here are some concepts

Logan babysitting for James

Logan gets in an accident on track and James is concerned (the current front runner)

Logan confides in James about his anxiety

James meets (and promptly hates) Logan’s parents/uncle

James tells Logan they’re resigning his contract

James talks to his wife about how he’s worried about Logan’s well being

Sleepy Logan and fond James

Internet hate gets to Logan and James is there to lift him up

Logan calls James ‘dad’

also, if anyone wants to use these concepts/run with these headcanons with stories of their own I would love to read them!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Sleep and Spacetime Don't Mix

Tis the end of the year and finals are making me feel like shit, may I please request a Logan-centric h/c? – anon

Could you maybe write a TSS fic involving burnout? – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: burn out, stress, overwhelmed/overstimulated

Pairings: roloceit

Word Count: 3193

Logan has a terrible habit of overworking himself. Luckily, he has two partners to help pull him out of the work spirals.

The relationship of the the two events is light-like, because the path of the object relative to the observer is parallel to the line representing c, the speed of light. The vertical axis, ct, represents the observer’s path relative to itself as it moves through time, so of course it is at rest as the observer must be at rest when observed from its own point of view.

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, massaging a bit as if it would relieve the strain. It won’t, he knows it won’t, but this late into the night it’s just about all he has left. The bulb in the rickety lamp flickers and he reaches out without opening his eyes to swat at the fixture until it buzzes steadily again. A slight wave of nausea rises up the back of his throat and he swallows it down. There’s no time for this.

He looks back at the diagram. The next thing he needs to do is create the set of axes from the other observer’s perspective, ct’ and x’, but he needs to calculate the difference using the Lorentz factor first. Which means he needs to remember the equation for doing that to get the angle right. He should be able to do that, because he’s been doing it all day and the proof he wrote up for it is beneath his left elbow, but that involves taking his eyes off the horribly rigid lines of the diagram and if he does that, he might just start crying. He shuts his eyes again and takes several deep breaths.

In, out.

In, out.

In…out.

He opens his eyes again and the lines blur and swim until he couldn’t make out an axis from a plotted line from the lines on the graph paper itself. With a groan, he shoves the notebook away, sending his pencil skittering across the desk. It clatters to the floor. He flinches. The lamp flickers again. He swats it until it buzzes. His shoulder protests the sudden movement and he tries leaning his neck to the side, wincing at the depth of the stretch. It shouldn’t hurt this much; he should be getting up regularly to take breaks, as he’s always telling Roman to do. He tries to lean to the other side and barely gets his head off of the vertical before he has to stop, hissing through his teeth. He leans back in the chair, chin tipped back toward the ceiling. The imprint of the spacetime diagram burns through his mind until he swears he can see it in the cracks in the wood beams over his head. If he lifted his hand to follow them—yes, there’s the axes, there’s his plotted paths, now if only the beams could somehow predict and plot the prime set of axes, he would be forever grateful.

But the ceiling is only a ceiling and any mathematical revelations will have to come from his own tired, overworked, overwrung brain.

The chair creaks and the lamp buzzes again as he slumps forward. His forehead hits the desk and his glasses smush against his cheekbones. He turns his head at the last moment so as not to risk bending the frame or damaging a lens, but the metal digs into the side of his face and pinches a piece of hair in the hinge. He fumbles for the lamp again, only just managing to find it in time for the bulb to splutter and properly die, leaving him in the half-dark of the partly-drawn windows and the various applicable lights from the kitchen. A few bits of paper crinkle under his weight as he shifts around on the table.

He can’t afford to lie here, he knows. He has to do things. If not continue to work on the problem that plagued him all afternoon, then to get himself ready for bed so he might have a chance at being awake enough tomorrow to do it. He shouldn’t be lying on the table anyway; it’s not quite sturdy enough to bear the brunt of his weight and the last thing he needs is to give himself a worse crick in his neck than he already has. He needs to pick his pencil up off t he floor before someone steps on it again and breaks the lead. He can’t afford to have to stop halfway through the exam to get up and sharpen his pencil, that could break his concentration, or worse, make him lose valuable time. He’s already had to replace his pencil three times. He can’t do that again without dipping into his emergency back up supply and there’s too much time left in the month for that. His notebook isn’t going to be any clearer if there are massive folds and wrinkles int he pages that could be confused for axes or plotted lines or any matter of things when cleanliness and orderliness within his calculations are of the utmost importance. It certainly isn’t going to make reading and re-deciphering his notes any easier, and if he needs to erase something it will make the page all the more likely to tear. Then he’ll have to copy it down onto a whole new sheet and that will take even more time that he does not have.

Suffice to say, he cannot afford to lie here on this table.

And yet.

And yet.

He loses track of time as he stares at the blurred edge of the windowpane. The curtain wafts back and forth when the air conditioner kicks on and turns off again. In the muddled reflection, he sees the clock on the microwave tick one minute to the next, neon green light changing shape ever so slightly as the lines move about on their preprogrammed grid. The room hums with the sound of too many appliances and oozes with a silence that he couldn’t hope to fill with anything but the mutterings of his own head about how much he still has to do.

“You,” he hears softly as a faint silhouette approaches him from the side, “are far too lovely to lie here as though you’ve got no one to come and cuddle you.”

His eyes fall closed upon hearing the voice; the memory of it alone is enough to break through some emotional pane of glass and he slumps a little more into the table. The quiet footsteps belie the gloved hand coming to rest lightly on top of his shoulder, before another carefully shifts his head enough to remove his glasses. He opens his eyes to see a blurred, shadowed face leaning over him, faint light glinting off of teeth as a smile forms on the mouth.

“Hello, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “what are you doing out here all on your own?”

“I was working.”

“Is this a new studying technique I’m not aware of,” he asks, the gentle tone and the softness of the hand now cradling his cheek undoing the bite before it could land, “lying across the table in the dark?”

“I’m not working anymore.”

“I can see that. Was it giving you trouble?”

“I…I believe I’m too tired to do anything else.”

Janus hums, his fingers idly toying with the tuft of hair just above Logan’s forehead. “Does that include you getting yourself ready for bed?”

“…perhaps. I’m sorry, I—“

“No, no, no, none of that. We’ve all been there, you know you needn’t apologize for it. Will you let me help you?”

“I would appreciate that a lot, yes.”

Janus smiles again and carefully takes Logan’s arms to slip them around his neck. He lifts his head enough to help Janus pull him into a seated position, leaning against his chest with a sigh. The scent of jasmine tea lingers around his scarf. Fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck, an idle hum working its way through the air while Logan regains his bearings. Truly he must have overestimated how much work he could do in a state like this; he’s nearly ready to fall asleep in this very chair just from Janus holding him.

“Come on,” comes the gentle prompt a few moments later, “let’s get a little something into you before we get you to bed.”

Against his baser instincts, Logan rouses himself and fumbles for his glasses, sliding them onto his nose as Janus moves to the kitchen. He clicks on another one of their little lamps, this one in the shape of a squat bluebird, and sets about gathering a few snacks. Logan ambles over to the counter, leaning against it as Janus slides him a glass of water.

“Do you think you could handle an English Muffin?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. Have a munch on those while I make it.”

Logan eats the nuts and pretzels while Janus sticks the English Muffin in the toaster. Gloved fingers tap along the counter before he huffs and reaches up to fuss with Logan’s hair.

“It’s all sticking up on this side. How long were you lying like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you manage to get some work done at least?”

“Yes. Just…not as much as I wanted.”

“Well, Mr. ‘I Can Read an Entire Academic Thesis in Half an Hour,’ I’m sure that the amount of work you’ve done is perfectly acceptable.”

“What’s going on out here?” They turn to see Roman emerging from the other bedroom. “Are you guys having a party without me?”

“I thought I told you to stop working an hour ago.”

“You told me to start wrapping it up an hour ago, I have been doing so.” Roman stifles a yawn and comes over to sling his arms around Logan’s waist. “You staying up late working too?”

“Too late.”

“Mm. I actually have wrapped up and was just on my way to the bathroom, but it looks like you need a bit more help, yeah?” Logan nods and Roman leans in to kiss his cheek. “You wanna come spend the night with us?”

“…can I?”

“I’ll move the beds.”

Roman ducks around to kiss Janus’s cheek too before heading to the bathroom. After a few moments the sink turns on.

“Here,” Janus says, sliding the English Muffin over to him, “eat, sweetie. Do you feel any better?”

“A little bit.”

“Can I go and tidy up your work stuff?”

“There’s a pencil on the floor, please—“

“I’ll be very careful, I promise. Which side of the table?”

“Near the closet door.”

“Got it.”

True to his word, Janus walks over and carefully straightens and flattens his notebook, turning off his calculator and stacking his loose pages to the side. He picks the pencil up off the ground and puts it next to the calculator, just so. He even goes and makes sure the textbook bookmark is there in the right page before he closes it with a thud and pats it like it’s going to sleep too.

“There, all done.” He comes back over and ruffles his hair. “Have you had as much as you’re going to be able to?”

”I think so. There’s still half left, though. I can have it tomorrow.”

“It’s half of an English Muffin, Logan, it’s not the most important thing in the world to save.”

“Here,” Roman says, coming up, “give it to me, I’ll eat it.”

“Didn’t you just brush your teeth?”

“Listen, I won’t tell my dentist if you won’t.”

Logan hands it over and Roman stuffs it in his mouth, winking as he goes back into their bedroom. Janus rolls his eyes fondly and gives Logan a little nudge toward the bathroom. He goes, setting his glasses on the rim of the sink to wash his face. The cool water is a mercy on his hot and overworked skin, the soft towel that follows it even more so. He changes into the soft sleep shirt and shorts that he set in there this morning and brushes his teeth.

When he knocks on the doorframe to Roman and Janus’s room, Roman pokes his head up from the other side of the newly-assembled big bed. All of their rooms technically come fit with twins, but as the two of them are wont to cuddle in the winter—and drag Logan into cuddle piles whenever it’s deemed necessary—they have a habit of pushing the two together to create a mattress big enough to hold all three of them.

”Hey, honey,” Roman murmurs, coming around and holding his hands out, “you wanna come cuddle? You look like you need it.”

Logan fits his hands into Roman’s and lets him pull him across their room to the bed. He’s sat down on the edge and rolls toward the middle. They’d learned after some trial and error to keep a king-sized fitted sheet for when they did this to keep the beds from accidentally separating in the night. No sooner has he lied down does Janus slip in on his other side, yawning and rolling onto his side to put his phone on the nearby nightstand. The left mattress dips as Roman gets in too, pulling the big comforter over them and settling onto his pillow with a sigh. The combined warmth of the two of them makes Logan’s hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Hey,” Roman says softly, his voice beginning to go slack with sleep even as his eyes remain as bright and alert as ever, “what do you need, Specs?”

His hands are still shaking. A soft rustle of the blankets form his other side signals Janus moving to take one in his, bringing it up to his mouth for a soft kiss. Logan’s head whips around, staring at him with wide eyes, his heart hammering away between his ribs the way it always does when he’s worked himself too late and he finds himself trapped between the two of them. Janus’s eyes soften, as they always do, and he only has a moment to register the soft trace of his thumb over his knuckles before Roman is on him.

Strong arms move him a little further away from Janus, a leg coming up to swing over his as Roman lowers himself to an elbow, leaning up and over him. His weight presses down, thigh to hip to chest, soft words and even softer touches trailing along Logan’s cheek, his neck, his arm, his hand.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’m right here. Janus has you too. You’re gonna be okay, you’re safe with us.” He kisses Logan’s temple and moves Logan’s hand up to tangle in his hair. “See? Feel me? That’s real, baby, it’s all okay. You’re safe, you’re here with us, you’re gonna be just fine.”

A muffled sob leaves his throat and he tries to bury it in the hollow of Roman’s. Janus keeps squeezing his hand, brushing his lips against his knuckles as he murmurs soothing nonsense. Roman’s weight grounds him, his voice a steady constant in his other ear, not protesting once when Logan’s hand twitches and he accidentally pulls his hair. The rational part of his brain keeps whispering that this happens every time he gets overwhelmed, that eventually it will subside and everything will feel okay again, and yet it is impossible to think your way out of being in pain.

Roman’s got his face pressed against the crook of Logan’s now, every so often kissing whatever part of him he can reach. In contrast to the grip Logan’s got twisted into his hair, he cards his fingers lightly and almost lazily against the grain of Logan’s scalp. The faint tingling sensation overrides the worst of the nightmarish wriggling in his chest and stomach, giving him something to focus on along with the steady press of Roman’s weight on top of him and the grip Janus has on his other hand. Slowly, slowly, under their gentle attention, he manages to calm the swell of emotion in his chest and breathe a little bit easier. Roman kisses the curve of his jaw in encouragement as his breathing evens out, Janus holding his hand to his own chest so he can feel the steady heartbeat.

“Hey, baby,” Roman whispers when Logan finally sags into the mattress under him, “you did so good. So good.”

Janus hums in agreement. “Do you think that’s the last of it for now?”

“Yes.”

“You want to try and get some sleep?”

“Can we…stay like this for a little longer?”

“Don’t tempt him,” he chuckles, “Roman’ll fall asleep on top of you if you let him.”

“It was one time.”

“And I regained feeling in my hand about halfway through the afternoon, you’re right.”

“I’m no doctor but that seems like it’s more of a you problem than a me problem.” Roman snuffles playfully into Logan’s shoulder. “Besides, Logan’s comfier than you are.”

Janus makes a fake-affronted sound. “How dare you?”

“He’s all warm and soft,” Roman continues, leaving little kisses along the curve of his neck, “and he smells like bergamot even though he ran out of tea a few days ago…”

He feels a flush following Roman’s words—and mouth, his grip tightening in his hair again. Roman just chuckles and moves to mutter against the underside of his jaw.

“And it’s so much easier to make him blush. It’s like sleeping on my own little space heater.”

“Roman!”

“What? It is! See, look at you, your little nose is going all pink.”

”We’re supposed to be helping him sleep,” Janus points out, though he sounds far too amused, “not winding him up again. You’re gonna make him get worked up and not in the fun way.”

“Am I being too much, baby?” It’s whispered gently into his ear, all traces of play gone from his voice. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and nods and Roman backs off immediately, a firmer kiss and a proper cuddle as he lies back down. “Okay. I’m all done, Specs, I swear.”

“Shame on you,” Janus scolds as sleep laces through his words, “at such a late hour. Let’s all just go to sleep like reasonable people.”

“You okay to sleep now? Yeah? Okay.” Roman cups his cheek and give shim a kiss on the forehead. “If you need anything, you wake one of us up, okay?”

Logan nods, sleep already tugging at his eyes too. As his lids droop further and further, he’s just able to make out the way Roman settles himself down with a satisfied sigh, one hand still left out within reach if Logan so wished. On his other side, Janus snuffles into the pillow, turning over to face the wall. He looks up at the ceiling, the faint glow-in-the-dark stars shining against the darkness of the wood.

He falls asleep and dreams of traveling through the galaxy on a ship capable of faster-than-light travel, a notebook at his elbow and a smile on his face.

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