too many aus

since i’ve finally hit a point where i’ve posted enough of my writing that i can make one of these!! pretty sparse rn, more to follow :)

oneshots:

a midwinter’s tale : roman can’t say he’s ever had a stranger camp out in his yard before. he also can’t say that he’s ever met someone who carries their broken heart in a paper bag, but hey, first time for everything, right? (romantic royality)

what living is for : patton’s health is failing, and he and roman pass a quiet afternoon on the beach. (little women au, with jo!roman and beth!patton; brotherly royality)

beauty in the way of things : logan and patton pass a lazy day together after the end of the world. (romantic logicality)

you’re such a heavenly view : logan loves the night sky, and roman loves to see his fiancé happy. A stargazing date ensues. (romantic logince)

we’ll all be here forever : during the group’s high school grad party, patton and logan have a quiet revelation while looking through their yearbooks. (romatic logicality)

drabbles:

in these small hours : logan comes home from work, and patton is there to greet him. (romantic logicality)

the boy and the ghost : snippet of a longer wip; how medium!virgil first met ghost!patton (fatherly moxiety)

multichapter fics:

content warnings: references to underage drinking, general anxiety about going away to college

pairings: romantic logicality

word count: 1357

surprise, a lil logicality oneshot i wrote a few months ago but never posted. enjoy !!!

~

“I thought I might find you here.”

Patton glanced up from his spot on his attic bedroom floor. He was sitting cross-legged on his shag carpet he’s had since childhood, the dying light from outside pooling around him soft as honey, yearbook open in his lap. The circular window above his head was cracked open, letting the early summer air mingle with the muted sounds of the graduation party in the backyard.

Logan stood in the doorway, wearing a red Harvard t-shirt and looking unsure of himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you—“

“Not at all,” Patton replied, patting the spot beside him. “Come sit.”

After a moment, he did, stooping a bit to fit inside. Logan had had a major growth spurt back in the summer before junior year, and now could no longer stand at his full height in Patton’s bedroom without hitting his head on the slanted ceilings. He folded his limbs in carefully and sat next to him.

Once, Patton might have felt the need to grin at Logan, to wipe every trace of melancholy from his expression and eagerly fill the silence between them. But the silence was comfortable, and Patton was lately finding that around Logan, he had to pretend less and less. And so for a little while, the two flicked through the yearbook together, quietly laughing to themselves when a particularly bad picture of one of their friends came up, and recounting the memories of the past year. Of the past four.

“Aww,” Patton said suddenly, pointing to the two-page spread made for the annual school musical. “Roman was so good in that. He made me cry.”

Logan glanced at him, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. “It was Mamma Mia.”

Patton swatted him on the arm. “Mamma Mia has serious moments! I bet plenty of people teared up during ‘Slipping Through my Fingers’!”

Logan snorted, turning his attention back to the book. “Oh, there’s Janus at the mock trial.”

“He did so good!”

“He did. Though he is going to law school after college, so I doubt that his opponents were thrilled about facing off with him.”

Patton fell silent again, the statement settling over him like a weighted blanket. The pictures on the photo wall above his desk fluttered in the light breeze. He wanted to curl up beneath it and let this moment live forever.

“…Patton,” Logan asked carefully. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you down at the party?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Harvard-man,” Patton replied, but it didn’t come out as playful as he had hoped. The six of them—their tight-knit friend group since freshman year—had been planning the joint graduation party since they had gotten back from winter break. It had been decided that they would hold it at Patton’s house, because his house—which was actually a repurposed barn—had the biggest backyard. The others had come over at the crack of dawn to set up; now, fairy lights adorned the backyard, and streamers the colors of every college they had chosen cascaded around the perimeter.

It looked lovely, and yet as soon as the first guests had trickled in, Patton found that he just wanted to be alone.

Logan looked at him, a little furrow between his brows. Patton had often thought of that little furrow: if Logan knew it was there, what it would be like to press his thumb to it and smooth it out. He pushed those thoughts down, as he had gotten skilled at doing.

At last, he sighed. “I guess it’s just hitting me. That we’re all leaving.”

“…ah.”

“Yeah.”

Another bout of silence, punctuated by the faint sound of Remus beating Roman in a game of cornhole and crowing about his victory.

“You really don’t need to worry, Lo,” Patton said softly, offering him a wan smile. “I’ll be okay. Go down and enjoy the party.”

“You know that I have never been a party person.”

“You might be next year. I hear Harvard parties get crazy.”

“All the more reason for me not to go.”

“Yeah, well.” Patton sighed. “Who knows what next year will be like. Maybe we’ll all be different by then. We already are.”

A few weeks ago, they had rented a mountain house for a weekend, as per the “senior week” tradition. Roman had managed to smuggle a few boxes of hard seltzers and a bottle of vodka, and they had spent their Saturday night in various stages of drunkenness. It had all felt very grown up.

“Nothing has to change,” Logan started uncertainly.

“Logan,” he replied. “It already is.”

“That doesn’t mean that we won’t all still be close.”

“I know. But sometimes I wish that we could stop time, just for a little while.”

Another silence settled over them like a fresh layer of snow. Patton was thinking of what to say, of how to apologize for ruining the moment, when he felt Logan’s hand over his. He looked up in surprise—Logan was staring straight ahead, a muscle feathering in his jaw, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to speak.

Patton put his other hand on top of Logan’s and squeezed.

For a suspended moment, Patton’s world narrowed: the distant chatter outside, the early summer breeze, Logan’s hand between his, Logan’s breathing. He felt warm from the inside out, and all of his troubles suddenly seemed so very far away.

“Patton,” Logan began haltingly. “I—you know that I would never—that is, I could never—I could never let myself grow apart from you?”

Patton looked at him. Logan looked vaguely frustrated with himself, his cheeks daylily pink. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“I know,” Patton replied softly. “Me neither.”

Logan nodded faintly. “Good,” he said, almost to himself.

For a moment, Patton thought that that was it, and the comfortable silence would return. He turned his gaze back toward the window.

“Patton,” Logan said again, his voice taking on a strange timbre.

Patton looked at him again, and their eyes met. He felt a zing of something go down his spine, thrilling and terrifying. He suddenly had the distinct feeling of standing on the precipice of some great unknown, teetering precariously on the edge.

Logan, for the first time Patton could ever remember, was completely lost for words. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a short, nervous breath escaping him.

And then Patton leaned forward and kissed him.

Logan’s lips were slightly chapped, and he tasted a hint of vanilla frosting from the massive sheet cake downstairs; it was brief yet lingering, and when Patton drew back, Logan’s eyes looked starry behind his glasses.

And before Patton could even open his mouth to speak, Logan took his face in his hands and kissed him again, sweet and awkward and achingly tender. Their glasses clinked together. Patton could feel Logan’s nervous heartbeat through his chest, thumping in tandem with his own.

It felt like a puzzle piece had slid into place.

When Logan pulled away, there was a brief, suspended moment of pure wonder as they stared at each other. And then Patton started giggling. He felt giddy, like he was a can of soda that had been shaken and was now bubbling up everywhere. He was sparkling, fizzy.

Logan cracked a grin, shy and bashful but dazzling, and Patton’s heart felt so full.

“So,” he said, giggling.

“So.” Logan replied.

“Did I ever tell you you look cute in red?” Patton grinned, nodding at Logan’s Harvard shirt. Logan’s flush deepened.

“I don’t believe so.”

“I guess I better tell you more often, then.”

“I suppose you should.”

Later, Roman would burst into the room, reprimands about ditching the party dying on his tongue when he sees their joined hands. Later, they would have to endure endless teasing and scrutiny from their friends, various ‘I called it’-s and ‘I told you so’-s. Later, they would officially call themselves boyfriends, the word thrilling and new.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Patton and Janus broke up months ago. The problem? They still haven’t told their friends, and their annual beach trip is looming. Not wanting to break the news and ruin the vacation, they come to an…unconventional agreement.

Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety

Content Warnings: Drinking/flashback to underage drinking, drunkenness, breakups, lmk if i missed anything!!

Word Count: ~2100

Author’s Note: The second chapter is here!! Writing the flashback in this chapter made me miss freshman year of college so bad actually i need to go back i fear.

~

Janus stood in the emptiness of the master bedroom and stared at the space where Patton had been. The late afternoon sun spilled across the polished hardwood floor, painting the room in a hazy gold. Muffled from downstairs, he could hear him telling Virgil that he would cook after all tonight, which didn’t surprise him in the slightest. He knew from six years of being in a relationship with the man that he cooked under stress. Memories of coming home to their apartment to find Patton in the kitchen surrounded by trays upon trays of cookies came flooding back to him, and his heart gave a painful tug.

He blew out a careful, measured breath and sat on the corner of the bed. He hadn’t been lying—Patton really was a terrible actor, which provided two massive problems for Janus: one, because they had to keep the charade up all week, and two, because Janus secretly found Patton’s complete inability to lie one of his most endearing qualities.

Really, this had been a terrible idea to begin with, but when he had come over to the apartment to pick up his things, he couldn’t help but notice the deep circles under Patton’s puffy red eyes, his unkempt hair, his rumpled shirt. No matter how upset with each other they still were, when Patton had turned to look at him, the only thing that he wanted to do was close the space between them, take him into his arms, and smooth down his hair. Even now, he hated seeing him so upset. And so, he did the only thing that he could think to do:

Propose the world’s worst plan.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Patton and Janus broke up months ago. The problem? They still haven’t told their friends, and their annual beach trip is looming. Not wanting to break the news and ruin the vacation, they come to an…unconventional agreement.

Word Count: 2597

Pairings: moceit, background prinxiety

Content Warnings: drinking, breakups, mild innuendo

Author’s Note: I finally wrote the fake-dating-exes “there’s only one bed” moceit fic I’ve been threatening you all with!! I tagged everyone who expressed interest in reading this when I posted about it months ago. This fic is loosely based off of the novel “Happy Place” by Emily Henry :)

~

Not for the first time, the rational part of Patton’s brain was telling him that this was a bad idea. He had known it since they cooked it up, but he guessed that it was one thing to talk about it and another entirely to put it into action. He stood in the driveway, holding a bag of pool noodles and feeling slightly nauseous.

The rush of blood in his ears nearly drowned out the familiar chatter of his friends: Logan reading their checklist aloud in his typical drone, the twins cracking jokes from the backseat, Virgil groaning and telling them to shut it, trying and failing to smother the grin on his face. It was a perfect tableau of the people he loved most in the world, who, under different circumstances, he would have been thrilled to spend the week on vacation with, as he was every year.

As Janus loaded the last of the bags into the trunk, Patton met his eyes, and looked away as quickly as he could, staring at the gravel by his feet. Off to a flying start.

Synopsis: Roman can’t say he’s ever had a stranger camp out in his yard before. He also can’t say that he’s ever met someone who carries their broken heart in a paper bag, but hey, first time for everything, right?

Ship: Royality

Word Count: 2,022

Content Warnings: Divorce mention, death mention, car accident mention

Author’s Note: This is a little wintery oneshot based on the play “Almost, Maine” by John Cariani, which I was in a few years ago! This is magical realism, so just suspend your disbelief :-)

~

There was a man in Roman’s yard.

Roman watched him from his window—he was hard to make out in the dark, but he was fairly sure that he wasn’t from Almost; he’d recognize him if he were.

He stared as the man wrestled with what looked like a tent—is he pitching a tent in my yard?—and set up a telescope, angling his face towards the sky full of stars. There had to be thousands of them—that was one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere, no light pollution—and although he couldn’t clearly make out the finer details of the man’s face, he could see the way he clasped his hands in front of his chest in utter delight.

For a moment, Roman contemplated just leaving him to his own devices and going to bed, but he had to admit that he was intrigued—it wasn’t every day that someone would camp out in your yard, after all, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone from out of town came to visit.

He hastily stuffed his feet into his slippers, slipped his warmest robe over his flannel pajamas, and padded downstairs. He could see the man much better out of the downstairs window, and, for reasons he couldn’t really explain, he spent a moment just watching him stare at the sky.

After a second, though, he realized that he was probably going to look like a total creep if the man saw him, so he decisively opened the door and quietly slipped out into the freezing winter air.

He shivered—growing up in northern Maine had instilled a high tolerance for cold weather in him, but a small part of him still wished that he had worn a coat—and stood on his doorstep. The man didn’t seem to notice him.

“Um…hello,” Roman started, venturing closer, and the man startled a bit, turning to look at him.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, both mittened hands springing to his heart, possessively clutching a brown paper bag. In the back of his mind, Roman registered that the man was very pretty—he had what he’d describe as “puppy dog eyes”, big and wide and brown, partially obscured behind a pair of round glasses, and a generous amount of freckles scattered across his rosy cheeks and nose. He had both a knit pom-pom hat and earmuffs on, but Roman could still make out a curl of brown hair sticking out from underneath it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s okay,” Roman responded, looking quizzically at him. “Can I…help you?”

“Oh! No, that’s okay, thanks!” He said cheerily. “I’m just here to see the northern lights.”

“…Okay,” Roman said slowly, cocking his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just—you’re in my yard—?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind!” He chirped. “I just needed somewhere to camp for the night, and this is just such a great stargazing location because of how open it is, so I’ll only be here for tonight and then I’ll be gone!” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said again emphatically. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” Roman said, smiling a bit. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh! Good!” The man sighed with relief. “Y’know, it said in your brochure that you wouldn’t mind—see, I’m a hiker, and it said in this brochure—“ he produced a thick pamphlet from the inside pocket of his winter coat, “that Maine people generally won’t mind, because you’re all about exploration and adventure and all that, so!” He let out a happy huff of breath. “I’m glad that you’re so kind and that you’re letting me stay here, because I really need to!”

Roman tilted his head, amused. The man was all smiles, and the way he spoke was endearing, as if he couldn’t talk as quickly as he thought of new things to say. “Why do you need to?”

“Because I need to see the Northern Lights tonight! And this is the perfect spot! It’s so open,” he repeated.

“It used to be a potato farm,” Roman explained. The man nodded.

“Makes sense. No trees! Are you a farmer?”

“Oh, no. I’m a waiter,” Roman paused. “I’m really a writer, though.”

The man gasped and clasped his hands together. “A writer? What do you write?”

“Oh, mostly just romances. I’d like to get more into fantasy, though.”

“Wow,” the man breathed, looking genuinely amazed. Roman was oddly flattered. “That’s incredible! Wow. A real writer! Are you published? Wait, no—that’s a stupid question, it doesn’t make you any less of a writer if you’re not published, of course, and I know that there are some people who just write for themselves! Are you one of those?”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the word-vomit. The man was looking at him, those big brown eyes wide and unfathomably earnest, and Roman’s heart felt a little melty all of a sudden.

“Don’t worry! I’m technically published, in the Almost town paper, so I have an audience of about twenty.” The man laughed, a light, bell-like sound, and Roman’s smile only grew wider. “But I’ve been trying to sell my creative work to actual publishers. You’re right, though—I do mainly write for myself, and what I’d want to read.”

“That’s such a great talent to have,” he sighed wistfully. “I’ve never been much of a writer—I’m more of a traveller, meet all the people I can, y’know? Gosh, don’t you think it’s crazy how every person you’ve ever passed on the street have their own lives that are just as complex as yours? That’s so much life!”

“So many stories,” Roman agreed, and the man nodded, the tuft of curly hair bouncing against his forehead. “That feeling’s called ‘sonder’, by the way.”

The man’s face lit up. “Really? I had no idea there was a word for it!”

Roman grinned. “Yeah, well…it’s funny, because when you live in a town as small as this, you never really get that feeling, because you already know who everyone is.”

“That’s true! I hadn’t thought of that!” The man paused for a moment, thinking. “What town is this, by the way? It’s not on my map.”

“Well, we call ourselves ‘Almost’, but it wouldn’t be on your map, because we’re not technically a town. To be a town, you’ve gotta be organized, and, well, we almost got around to doing that, but never did, so now we’re just ‘Almost’.”

That bell-like laugh again. “Well, it’s lovely up here. So much sky.” He gasped. “Oh! Where are my manners? Set up a tent on someone’s lawn and don’t even tell them your name! I’m Patton.”

“Patton,” Roman repeated, trying it out. It was a soft-sounding name, the kind of name that sounds familiar even when you’ve never met anyone else with it. It suited him. “I’m Roman.”

Patton smiled, and it was dazzling. “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

And for a moment, they stood in companionable silence, staring up at the sky and listening to the sounds of the midwinter night all around them, when suddenly Patton gasped, a ragged, shuddery breath that made Roman jump.

“I need that!” He yelped, pointing at his brown paper bag that had somehow found itself into Roman’s hands. Roman stared at it quizzically. He didn’t remember taking it.

“Oh, I’m sorry—“ he started, handing it back to Patton. He snatched it back and held it close to his chest, relaxing a little.

“No problem,” Patton replied, infinitely calmer than he was a second ago. Roman stared, bewildered. When Patton made no move to explain what had just happened, Roman cleared his throat again.

“So,” he started. “Where are you from?”

“Oh,” Patton started, and waved his hand around vaguely. “I wander a lot, you know, travel around, but my husband and I had an apartment in Colorado.”

“Oh, you’re married?” Roman felt the tiniest twinge of disappointment.

“Well, not anymore,” he responded. “We had been separated for about a year, but since he died recently, I’m here to pay my respects.”

“Oh,” Roman said dumbly, unsure of what to say at such a revelation. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Patton shrugged, but his eyes stayed trained carefully on the sky. “My mom used to tell me stories when I was little about how when you die, the northern lights are the pathway leading you to the afterlife. Like, the lights are the souls of the recently departed and all that. So I have to see the Northern lights, because that’s him.”

“Oh,” Roman repeated.

Patton glanced over at him sheepishly. “I know it’s silly.”

“No,” Roman blurted. “It’s not silly at all.”

Patton smiled then, a sweet, sad thing that made Roman feel warm from the inside out, like drinking a mug of hot chocolate or a bowl of his favorite soup on a cold day.

And then Patton gasped again.

“I need that!” he wheezed, clutching his chest and grasping at the brown paper bag that had, once again, inexplicably found itself in Roman’s grasp. “It’s—my heart, I need it, give it back—“

Roman practically threw the bag at him, and, once more, Patton’s expression settled immediately. He looked completely normal, if not a little embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he said, catching his breath. “Sorry.”

“Um…no problem,” Roman said belatedly. A thousand questions were firing in his head, and he grasped at them desperately, willing his voice to work. “Your heart?” he managed finally. “I’m sorry, is that what you—?”

“Oh,” Patton looked down bashfully, the embarrassed smile on his face contradicting the ever so slight waver in his voice. “Yeah. Uh…well, last year, I came home early from work, and found my husband in bed with someone else, and, well, when I saw, my heart just broke. Shattered. Into nineteen pieces.” He held up the paper bag and shook it. “Put it in here, and I’ve had to carry it around ever since.”

“Oh,” Roman began, unsure of how to respond. “I’m so sorry.”

“A few months later, he came back—knocked on my door, begging me to take him back, and—well, I’ve never had the easiest time saying ‘no’ to people, so telling him to leave was the hardest thing I’ve ever done…he was so upset that when he left, he didn’t notice the car headed right for him.” His voice broke off, and he lapsed into silence. “I can’t help but feel like I killed him.”

“No,” Roman said, with a conviction that surprised both himself and Patton. “Patton, I—I’ve only known you for ten minutes, and even I can see that you’re one of the most goodhearted people out there. It isn’t your fault.”

Patton hastily wiped a tear from his cheek. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…you must think I’m crazy, a strange man with a broken heart in a paper bag crying about killing his ex-husband on your lawn.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” And just like that, the bag somehow found itself in Roman’s hands again. He held it out to Patton. Patton hesitated.

“It’s never done that before.”

“Does it hurt?” Roman asked, suddenly curious.

“Sometimes. But in an empty way, like how your stomach hurts when you’re really hungry. Mostly, it just feels hollow.”

“Have you ever tried to…piece it back together?”

“Yes, but it’s never worked. Glue, tape…they don’t stick.”

Roman clutched the bag tighter. “…May I?”

Patton’s eyes grew impossibly wide, and he nodded haltingly. Carefully, Roman opened the bag, and peered into it. It looked like shattered red glass. He took out two pieces. He could hear Patton’s breath catch.

They sealed back together seamlessly.

They looked at each other in stunned silence. Patton held his chest, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain.

The Northern Lights exploded overhead. Patton gasped, and tilted his head back in awe. “Goodbye,” he whispered into the night.

He looked back down at Roman, who had found himself on one knee. He normally would have been mortified, but instead, all he could do was hold out the delicate glass heart, whole and lovely, to Patton.