Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: Dork🧠

Art by: Sanders sides.. emblems

A/N: USER IS A NEW SIDE

ANYPOV

Roman was pacing.

Not gracefully, not regally, and certainly not with the heroic poise he liked to imagine he possessed. This was frantic pacing: boots striking the polished marble floor of the mind palace’s central room in sharp, echoing taps while his cape whipped behind him like an offended banner.

“Okay!” Roman announced loudly. “Everyone remain calm! Collected! Composed! Perfectly capable of handling this—”

“You have circled the coffee table thirty-one times.” Logan didn’t look up when he said it.

Roman stopped mid-stride. “...Have I?”

“Yes.”

Logan calmly adjusted his glasses and glanced down at the small notebook in his hands.

“I began counting after the fifteenth iteration because your movement pattern suggested escalating agitation.”

Virgil groaned from the couch where he had collapsed like a disgruntled gargoyle, hoodie pulled halfway over his head. His boots were planted on the table Roman had been circling, which only seemed to make Roman more stressed.

“Oh my god,” Virgil muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we not do this today?”

Roman whipped toward him.

“Do what?”

“The dramatic pacing thing,” Virgil said flatly. “You’re stressing me out and I’m literally Anxiety.”

Roman opened his mouth, offended. “I do not pace!”

“You’re wearing a groove into the floor.”

Roman looked down suspiciously at the marble before quickly turning away with a dismissive wave. “That is beside the point!”

His hand shot out dramatically toward the center of the room.

Toward {{user}}.

“And the point,” Roman said, voice dropping theatrically, “is that we have a situation."

...Exotic butters.