#(just one of those 'remus gives a shit about his brother more than anyone else in his family' things)

[soysaucevictim]

Not meant with any ill intent.

Saw a RB comment on that autism post to the effect of "being the smart kid and making that one's entire personality"... just made me think of Gymrat!Logan.

That was totally him growing up.

(Which makes me feel soft when he realized he made friends with Remus.)

[messers-moony]

King and Queen | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Fem!Potter!Reader, James Potter X Fem!Twin!Reader

Summary: James goes through a lot during his time at Hogwarts but his sister is always by his side.

Inspiration: Click

A/N: If this comes off insensitive to anyone please let me know and I will remove this.

James Potter was a handful. From the minute he was born, he had this gleam in his hazel eyes that raged and burned with trouble. His twin, Y/n Potter, was almost the opposite. The soft smile that laid on her features and the glitter of calamity in her eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont were in for a lot the minute their twins were born. 

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder is most comparative to having a web browser up with one too many tabs. James had always been unable to focus and was naturally messy. Truth be told, he thought it was normal, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t until his second year at Hogwarts did he realize something was genuinely wrong with him. 

Remus told him that he had this muggle thing called “dyslexia,” which was a difficulty in interpreting words, letters, and other symbols. However, it never affected his overall intelligence because everyone knew that Remus Lupin was indeed and wholly brilliant. It got James wondering, did his inability to focus, be organized, and hyperactivity have a deeper meaning?

His twin - Y/n - was quite the opposite. She made quick friends with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, who were close friends of her twin. Y/n was top of their class, creating a friendly competition with Remus, but she was always able to focus. Often she would hyper-focus, which would leave her working for over five hours at a time without realizing it. In those times, James would have to snap her out of it. 

Over the summer, James expressed his concerns to his parents. He was talking about how this could be a real issue he’s facing using Remus’ dyslexia as an example. Eventually, they gave in, letting James go to a muggle doctor. James had to fill out a questionnaire that would come back with his results in one week. That week was probably the longest week of his life. Nonetheless, his test results had come back positive. 

Fleamont and Euphemia would be lying if they were surprised. After hearing about the disorder, it was almost the definition of their eldest son. Fortunately for James, the muggles had come up with a cure - no, not a cure - dammit, what was it again?

Impede the symptoms! That’s what those muggle pills do. James was required to take two pills a day, one in the morning and once at night. Y/n was in charge of making sure he did so because - more times than he’d like to admit - he would forget everything if it wasn’t for Y/n. 

In third year, James was as energetic as ever while getting on the Hogwarts Express, “Aren’t you excited, Y/n?!”

She chuckled, “Yes, but Merlin, you don’t need to literally jump with joy.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know that.”

They made their way to the compartment that held Remus, who was reading a book. James sat in front of him while Y/n took her seat beside Remus, “‘Ello Remus.”

“Hey, Potter pair.”

Y/n sighed, and James groaned, “That nickname needs to go away.”

“I quite like it.” Remus stated smugly, “Suits you both.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Y/n accused falsely, “It means that wherever one of you are, the other isn’t that far behind.” Remus replied. 

James had zoned out already, and Y/n snapped in his face, “Take your pills?” 

“Forgot.” James muttered guiltily, “Oh Godric.” She whispered. 

“Pills?”

“James went to a muggle doctor this summer.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Did you now?”

“Got diagnosed with ADHD.” James informed, and Remus looked amiss, “Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of that.” Remus said, and James smiled sheepishly, “I feel kinda odd, like out of place.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, just, why can't I be normal?”

“You are normal, James.” Y/n reassured, “And anyone who says differently obviously doesn’t care about you.”

The compartment door slammed open, “Who doesn’t care about who?”

Remus snorted, “Ever the dramatics, huh, mate?”

“‘Course.” Sirius flopped down beside James, “It comes with my charm and devilishly good looks.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/n said, chuckling, “Don’t you see how I’m swooning for you?”

The back of her palm was against her forehead, “Come off it.” James swatted at her and then elbowed Sirius, “Better not make my sister swoon.”

Sirius chuckled and shrugged, “Can’t help it. I’m just that irresistible.”

The four of them laughed at Sirius’ dramatics and continued talking about the new term. Remus and Y/n were talking about books they couldn’t wait to read. Remus was even kind enough to gift her some muggle books he bought over the summer holiday. Sirius and James bickered about what pranks to do this year, along with which ones were better. 

Third-year was fun. It was a year of flooding corridors, turning Slytherin robes red and blasting music in the common room after a Gryffindor victory. James was a brilliant Quidditch Chaser, and Y/n was a fantastic Seeker. Nothing was quite like the Potter pair. Something about them was just unforgettable. 

Maybe that’s why Sirius was so fond of her. Something about the Potters made people around them smile on the hardest of days. They made sure that every moment was a night to remember. Every memory was worth reliving. So adventurous, so reckless, yet so kind and loving. 

By the time fifth year rolled around, Sirius Orion Black had fallen off a cliff into a lake called love. Sirius completely submerged himself in love for Y/n Potter. The younger twin by just 20 minutes, but something about her was so divine. Was it her silk and glittering h/c hair? No - maybe it was her gleaming e/c eyes. Perhaps it was for her strive for adventure and extreme kindness. 

Nonetheless, Sirius fell hard.

And who better to tell than James Potter himself?

Causally - as usual - Sirius opened the door to the Marauders dorm. It was empty aside from the brunet boy with glasses on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes were focused on a textbook - Potions textbook - maybe it was to impress Lily. Sirius couldn’t care less, so he pulled the chair out in front of the desk and sat before James. 

“Mate, I need your help.”

“Running from Filch?”

“No. Something- Something worse.”

“Something worse?” The textbook shut loudly.

Sirius nodded, “Way worse.”

“Alright then, come into my office.” James teased, and Sirius grinned. 

It was silent, “I’m in love with your sister.”

James sputtered, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Y/n.”

“No, no.” James waved his hand horizontally, “I heard you.”

“Then what else would you like me to say?” Sirius asked. 

“Literally anything else.”

“Sorry, mate.” Sirius muttered, “I- I really didn’t mean to.”

James chuckled and wiped his hand across his face, “I suppose you can’t really stop love, huh?”

“You really can’t.” Sirius agreed, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

“It’s not that big of a deal late.” James assured, and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes, “I trust you just-“

“Just?”

“I’m worried about her.” James completed, “I- I worry about her every night.”

Sirius softened, “It’s like you with Regulus-“ James continued before Sirius could interject, “And don’t pretend. Your silencing charms are bloody terrible.”

“I know you still care for Regulus, you worry about him every night, and I do the same for Y/n, except my silencing charms are better.” James teased sightly, “I trust you, Sirius. You’re the brother I never got but always wanted. You know, the brother I can play Quidditch with, rough around with, the brother who’s just as sneaky and mischievous as I.”

“But Y/n is still my blood. She's my twin, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was the mind behind my pranks before Remus.” James elaborated and then smirked, “Remus and Y/n make a great team, ya’ know?”

“They are quite brilliant.”

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, take care of her?” James looked like the eleven-year-old boy again, “Don’t make her a fling and don’t make this temporary.”

“Y/n is a strong woman, and she isn’t for weak men. I’ll be honest,” James chuckled, “She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t even really need me. I need her more than she needs me. Regardless, take care of her. She deserves a man worthy of her. Someone that’ll get her ice cream at 4 a.m. because she’s craving it. Someone that’ll go on sporadic trips with her. Someone that’ll understand that after a hard day, all she wants is a book and coffee.”

Sirius was appalled; he’d never seen James look so passionate, “Growing up, mum always told me to be a gentleman. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but she always raised me as one. To hold a door for them, push and push in their chairs for them, give them my jacket even if I’ll freeze.” 

“Those kinda things. Dad said I should practice on Y/n, and I did. From then, Y/n always got treated like a queen, and she deserves no less. I won't lie, my parents treat me like a king too, and I don’t want any less either.” James explained, “Be the king that’s worthy of my sister.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

Sirius nodded, “I’d be honored to serve her as my queen.”

“And if you show her no less, she’ll spit you out like chewing gum.”

He shuttered, “I hate how accurate that phrase is.”

James laughed, “I know her more than you think.”

By sixth year they were dating. Sirius would be lying if he wasn’t eternally shitting himself when Y/n said yes to going to Hogsmeade with him, alone, as a date. In fact, James almost wanted to throw him a party for finally not being a little bitch and asking out his sister. This party consisted of a bottle of firewhiskey and chocolate because that’s all that was in the boy's dormitory. But a party nonetheless. 

When Lily rejected James for the last time before graduation, he was utterly heartbroken. He’d spent and dedicated seven years of his life to this gorgeous woman. Despite all his efforts and all his charms, she still wasn’t interested. James tried. He really tried. He wanted Lily so bad. His heart broke when she said her final words of goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Maybe in another life, just not this one.”

Tears had ebbed at the corner of his eyes as he made his way back into the castle from the Black Lake. In the common room, where he felt like he had just got dowsed in water. James made his way to the girl's dormitory. His hand curled into a fist and knocked lightly on the wooden door. Shuffling was heard from the other side, and the door finally opened, revealing his sister. 

Without warning, James crashed into her arms, forcing his nose in the crook of her neck, “Woah.”

“Are you okay, James?”

His body shook with sobs as he shook his head no, “It’s okay. Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Gently she led him to her bed. He curled up beneath the navy blue comforter and placed his head on the silk pillow sheets. If he tried hard enough, he could forget the way Lily’s hair smelt today or the way her green eyes glistened in the sun. Now engulfed in his sister's scent, trying to remove every feeling for Lily possible, he dug his nose deeper into the comforter. 

Y/n sat beside him, her back to the headboard, and ran her fingers through James’ already untied hair, “What's got you so worked up?”

“It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“L- Lily and I.” James choked, “She- She really doesn’t want me.”

A new wave of tears overcame him, and Y/n continued to try and soothe him, “Well, she’s a tosser.”

James narrowed his eyes, “James, you know I love her. She's my best friend, but if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, then she’s an idiot.”

“Can I- Can I stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay at your dorm?” Y/n questioned, “Because you know who sleeps here.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Till the end.”

After a couple of minutes, Y/n and James made their way down the steps to the boy's side. They walked up more steps and finally made it to the boy's dormitory. James collapsed on his bed in the left corner of the room, and Sirius perked up at seeing his girlfriend enter the room. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, love?”

“Staying with my brother.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to hug her, gently pecking her forehead, “If you guys need anything, let me know, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Siri.” 

Gently Y/n pulled back the maroon curtain and sat down beside him again. James reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Something they used to do as kids. When a thunderstorm would go by, James would always seek sanctuary in his sister's comfort. 

He fell asleep that night, knowing he was safe, loved, and knew that someone cared about him. Even if Lily didn’t love him, at least someone else did. He had his boys, and he had his sister. Right now, that’s all he needed beside him: Screw Lily and her idiot decision skills. Y/n was right; she was a complete tosser. 

When Hogwarts was over, James and Y/n got a flat together. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got one only a floor above. Realistically this wasn’t the plan. James always planned to buy a house with Lily, but he was still healing, and after everything going on, it was vital for him to hold his sister close to him.

Euphemia and Fleamont barely lived to see their children graduate. Not too long afterward had died due to the horrid dragon pocks. It devastated both twins and Sirius. While Sirius wasn’t their true child, he very well could’ve. Euphemia noticed Sirius’s lingering stares on Y/n and the loopy smile that graced his features.

She was the one who got Sirius to man up. She was the one who gave him advice. She was the one who told him what books were her favorite, which chocolate she liked the best, her favorite quills. Euphemia was one of the main components in getting Sirius to date her daughter, and when it finally happened, the parents couldn’t have been happier.

James’ ADHD still remained even in his adulthood, making regular everyday tasks much harder and twice as long. Most of the time, the pills were able to help him complete those tasks. But sometimes, when Y/n wasn’t there to remind him, he would miss his days. When Y/n got home from work, she had barely taken off her shoes to see the apartment spotless.

It was a pleasant surprise, but James was never really one to clean, not that she really minded, but the apartment didn’t have a speck of dust on it. Hesitantly she put her keys on the island along with her bag.

“James!”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He appeared in the kitchen where Y/n was, “Um, did you clean the apartment?”

“Yes, I did!” James nodded enthusiastically.

Y/n sighed and gave her brother a sweet smile, “What did you not do today?”

“So, you know how you told me to go to the pharmacy?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Indeed I do.”

“Well, they were out of my meds.” James informed, “I have to wait a week.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“On the bright side!” James was already causing her a headache, “It’s gonna be a fantastic week! I’ve got so many things planned for us! We’re gonna go-“

James continued to ramble as Y/n grabbed her keys, bag and slipped back on her shoes, “I’m going to Sirius’!”

“Thought you were my sister.” James faked pouting, and Y/n smiled, “I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I love you too!” He yelled as she closed the door.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

General:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @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 @aularei @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

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[ivyaugustetc]

the dead poets at hogwarts: a headcanon from hell

@aedan-mills @charlie-dalton-simp @pretentious-strikes YOU ENCOURAGED THIS BEHAVIOR SO YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES. also i love you a lot but THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.

also @aedan-mills i found out that some of the wand stuff is related to their birthdays and i am much too lazy to look all that up and figure it all out, but anyone else is welcome to lmao. sorry to disappoint but alas it's summer and i don't want to research that much. but other than that, please listen to me flex my extensive knowledge on harry potter :)

neil (half blood): i'm sorry,,,, can you say gryffindor? this boy would get up there and in a second the sorting hat would have him all figured out: big dreams with the will to pursue them, but not ambitious enough to step over others to achieve said dreams? sounds like a gryffindor to me. i just know he'd thrive at hogwarts, probably going on to play quidditch (def a chaser) and would excel in charms class. as far as pets go, i feel like he'd stay simple and classy with a chill barn owl he'd name after a famous broadway actor. he would kind of be a mix of james and remus, in which he's wild and crazy but still manages to get good grades. the teachers love him simply because they don't know much about him outside of class. he would absolutely LOVE going to hogsmeade and going batshit crazy at zonko's and honeydukes. he'd have a whole phase where he gets addicted to licorice wands and everyone else thinks they're disgusting but he simply cannot buy enough of them. he'd play a bunch of zonko tricks on the rest of the poets, saving the most harsh for charlie and the most wholesome for todd <3

todd (muggle born): ugh see i can see him being both a hufflepuff and a ravenclaw, but my heart says hufflepuff so i'm gonna go with that. he would absolutely HATE the sorting ceremony with a burning passion. getting up in front of everybody only to have a hat judge u??? no thanks. HAHAHA CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM ON A BROOM. i can't either because he would simply never get on one, probably referring to them as "flying death traps" more often than not. "hey todd, you think about joining quidditch?" "no thanks, i'd rather keep my limbs intact ;)". but he would love muggle studies a lot, even if the teacher was boring as hell. snape would scare the hell out of him for sure, resulting in his lowest class being potions. he would excel in classes that are more learning out of the book rather than in practice. for a pet, he'd want something that could not possibly turn on him and would just be sweet and loving, so ima give him a toad :) he'd name it something fancy and british, like nigel or sumn. and because of nigel, he'd love chocolate frogs because hey they're twins!!

fanon knox (pure blood): hogwarts fuck boy. okay well maybe not f boy but like...his favorite part is the fact that this is a co-ed school rather than an all-boys school so he can spy on both genders equally yknow. hmm i get hufflepuff vibes from him because he's a big romantic, sucker for cute relationships, etc. he would enjoy whichever class his current crush is in, although I feel like he'd do well with classes that involved spells and wand work mostly lmao. he'd want a really fucking cute pet, so i'd give him a kneazle (it's like a cat but a bit more lion like). he'd give it a strong sounding name, something german idk. but he'd love the shit out of that kneazle, i can tell you that much. i feel like he'd try out for quidditch his first few years, not make it on, and then make it on to the team around fourth year and somehow end up team captain in seventh (and that proves kids, that you too can have a redemption arc in sports). as far as candy goes, ima say he likes the super sour candy like acid pops n shit. like i feel like the others would dare him to each as much sour candy as he can and then he wouldn't be able to taste for a week. but he'd think it was worth it :)

cameron (muggle born): good god this boy just wants to learn. magic just fascinates him, what with growing up in a big muggle family (bestie he is the weasleys if they were all type a). he's a ravenclaw, no questions asked. he would love classes involving preciseness and attention, things like potions and transfiguration. i feel like he'd have a cute, stable relationship along the way ofc because he deserves so much love and happiness and UGH he's a baby. he'd stick with a lil ginger cat, naming it after one of the famous wizards he's read about. he would love spending christmas at the school and going places when the ground are nearly empty, enjoying the scenery. for candy, he'd go plain and simple with chocolate frogs. can't go wrong with those. he'd still have fun with his friends, but he'd skip a lot of parties for some studying (don't judge, i do it too lmao). would not play quidditch but would enjoy it, end of story.

charlie (pure blood): slytherin. don't dispute it. think the weasley twins but even more flirtatious. he would be a regular at every single party that happened, flirting with the guys and gals shamelessly and drinking butterbeer like it was water. look me in the eye and tell me he would not absolutely fucking HATE GILDEROY LOCKHART WITH EVER FIBER OF HIS BEING. he'd do spot-on impersonations of him though. teacher's worst enemy. like when he walks into class on the first day, every teacher collectively mutters "bloody hell not this kid again". asks the most incredibly stupid questions ("okay but is there a spell to turn my eyebrows green? just the eyebrows though, not my hair"). he would be the most aggressive beater on the slytherin team, though he would never deliberately try to hit someone, just distract the shit out of them ("put the fear of god in them and fate will do the rest"). he'd want a loud, aggressive pet but he'd probably end up with a mean cat that hisses at everyone. he'd give it the most adorable name that just. does not fit the personality. something like priscilla. for candy, he'd take his chance with bertie botts' every flavour beans and just roll with the punches. he's chaotic like that.

pitts (half blood): ASTRONOMY IS HIS JAM. he fucking loves that class. he tutors the entire ravenclaw house in that class. he's the guy that little first years who are terrified of the class go to when they're completely lost and don't understand what's going on. besides that, i feel like he'd just be everyone's cool older brother yknow? like he'd be in charge of helping all the first years figure out where stuff is and giving them advice to help them and stuff. he would be a die-hard quidditch fan although he would not play the sport (maybe recreationally on the weekends and holidays and stuff, but the fact that it's so fucking dangerous just does not appeal to him). he'd like the candy that does tricks and stuff, like fizzing whizbees and stuff. he gives me charlie weasley vibes, where he's hardcore in certain areas (in his case, astronomy) and just flipping chill in anything else. cool older brother vibes, man. it fits.

meeks (half blood): i've said it once and i'll say it again: nonproblematic ginger dumbledore. also a hufflepuff <3 this dude just wants to fucking coast along, getting good grades and not participating in the dumb shit that could probably get him killed (even though he would in a heartbeat if his friends were in danger. duh). he'd be a teacher's favorite, probably having conversations with his favorite teachers during free time. okay ik this isn't technically at school, but i swear to god he would be dumbledore one day. like he would be the chill ass headmaster who gets shit done while also being very la di da life is nice flowers are pretty type of person. that being said, his favorite candy is and has been lemon drops ever since dumbledore got him addicted to them. his favorite classes would be potions (he'd surprisingly get along well with snape) and he'd just be great and mixing shit right and just knowing how much of stuff to add in ("how much powdered root do i add?" "about three and a half shakes." "that's not a measurement, meeks." "*shrug* it works"). he'd stick with his small friend group and love them to death, but he'd be a friend to all really. he'll help anyone that comes to him asking for help with homework (and though he won't admit it, he gets super prideful when it's someone a few years ahead of him).

stick (muggle born): harry potter if harry potter could've been more harry potter. like he would just be a part of everything and end up being part of some prophecy that demands he'd save the world and at first he'd be like HEY i'm just a small boy but then he'd grit his teeth and finesse the shit out of this preventing the end of days stuff. he'd definitely be a gryffindor, and fucking proud of it. he'd be the seeker on the quidditch team because he is so short and small and yeah he'd fucking kill it there. he'd kind of be the shy one no one expected much from, but once he starts absolutely wrecking the shit out of the other houses' quidditch teams, he'd become sorta popular? like people would invite him to parties and stuff and he's too nice to say no, but he'd mostly just hang around the outskirts, saying hi to the other poets if he saw them and mostly talking to chris and ginny (danburry, not weasley). he'd like defense against the dark arts and minerva mcgongiall would become his literal mother i can't explain it. he'd have an owl as a pet and treat it like it was his own child, telling it thank you every time it brought his mail or took his mail. as for candy, he'd like drooble's bubble gum because the bubbles are all magic and shit and i just feel like that would make him so happy <3

chris (pure blood): the older sister lesbian <3 she'd be a sweet hufflepuff who would be friends with everyone while also being the greatest socialite the school has ever seen. you know that party that practically the entire school attended and talked about for months on end? she planned that shit. she'd be like pitts in the respect that she'd help all the first years find their way in the school and in life in general. she's just such a warm and kind person that everyone would love her. she's have a little pink pygmy puff to match ginny's purple one, and she'd give it such a perfect, human name like lila or something. she'd be great at muggle studies and all the teachers would love her. also every one is so invested in her relationship with ginny it's adorable. he favorite candy is acid pops even though they make her eyes water like crazy. she'd make pretty good grades, every once in a while getting one slightly lower than she'd expected, but she always manages to bring them up to her satisfactory level :) she would not play quidditch, but she would go all out to support ginny, even though they're in different houses. that's what i call love, baby.

ginny (half blood): the mom lesbian <3 she's a ravenclaw and also one of the sweetest people in the whole school. while chris helps other with the social aspect, ginny will help anyone in any subject they need help with (she and meeks are a help duo on this). she's quieter and less social than chris, but she's one of the best chasers the ravenclaw quidditch team has ever seen. she'd end up team captain by fifth of sixth year. she'd be like oliver wood in that she is sO invested in the team's success that at sometimes she'll go a bit crazy, but chris is always there to help her put things back into perspective <3. she'd make stellar grades of course, being good friends with all of her teachers. her favorite candy would be the sweetest things like fairy floss. as previously stated, she'd have a purple pygmy puff to match chris's pink one, and she'd also give it an adorable human name like lisa or something. ginny's just sweet to everyone, especially neil and his friends.

I DID IT. IT TOOK FOREVER AND A FEW HAIL MARYS BUT I DID IT. enjoy besties <3 love u all

[sweetea-rosey]

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

.

.

.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

.

.

.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

.

.

.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

.

.

.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Eight

Ready for more angst?

@lumosinlove you’re my hero <3

So much thanks to my partner in angst, @donttouchmycarrots

CW: mentions of violence, blood, panic attack

Clandestine Masterlist

.

Logan paced the width of the hotel room; back and forth, back and forth, like a tiger cooped up in a too-small enclosure. Leo sat on Finn’s side of the bed and traced shapes into the plain white duvet, imagining that he was following the same path Finn’s fingers had taken just the day before.

Finn.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and looked up at Logan. Back and forth, back and forth. Sirius and Loops hadn’t been in contact for about thirty minutes now. They’d been trying to get a location on Finn via the tracker he’d had in his com earpiece. Well they’d found the earpiece, but it must’ve been thrown out the car window because the trail ended on the side of the street with a tracker that had been smashed almost past recognition. Leo was strangely relieved about it. It was better than the alternative that his brain had been all too quick to jump to.

They got a license plate number from one of the stoplight cameras, though, so they were running that through the system and hoping they’d get a hit. Seeing that it was the Snakes and that they had so much control over everything that happened in the city, Leo thought their chances were pretty slim.

Back and forth, back and forth.

“Lo.”

There was no indication that Logan had even heard him.

“Logan.”

Still no response.

Leo rose to his feet and crossed the small room to catch Logan’s arm, finally putting a stop to the relentless pacing. Blank green eyes finally met his and Leo sighed, aching at the sight. “Sweetheart,” he murmured sadly, pulling the fighter into a hug. He was tense for a while, not moving to return the embrace and just breathing shakily through his nose.

“Talk to me.” Leo urged simply, unsure of what else to say. This wasn’t ok, he couldn’t pretend like it was. And he knew this conversation was going to be hard – god, he was barely keeping it together himself – but they still needed to have it. There was no point running from it. The only thing left to do was to face the daunting cliff they were careening towards and jump.

“We missed our chance.” Logan whispered, voice breaking towards the end as he pressed his forehead against Leo’s collarbone and leaned heavily against him. He felt small and useless and helpless as he squeezed his eyes shut. We were supposed to talk to him tomorrow and now he’s not here.

Leo’s cheek came to rest on the crown of his head as a sad noise escaped from his lips. “You don’t know that.”

But they both knew it wasn’t looking good.

“This is exactly why I wanted a transfer.”

Logan realized his mistake a millisecond too late. Leo stiffened, then pulled away to look at him. “What are you talking about?” When he didn’t answer, Leo tilted his chin up to meet his eyes. “What do you mean, transfer?”

He jerked his chin away and refused to look into baby blue eyes. “It was a while back, don’t worry about it.”

“Logan.”

“What do you want me to say?” Logan demanded, his white-knuckled grip on his emotions quickly giving out. “My purpose on this mission was supposed to be backup if needed, but they hired me mainly to make sure the mission got done, even if things got messy. And once… once feelings entered the picture, how was I supposed to focus on the mission instead of on keeping the two of you safe? If it came down to it, choosing between the two of you and this op would be too easy to do. I knew it was putting the mission at risk so I asked for a transfer, but we didn’t have any other agents available.” He ran a hand through his hair roughly, breathing in shakily. “And now I’m living in one of my own fucking nightmares because this is on me.”

And if that wasn’t a knife in Leo’s chest. Logan deflated before his eyes, head hanging low, the picture of a man utterly defeated. “Finn’s gone and it’s all on me.”

The knife twisted cruelly.

“It’s not-”

“Bullshit,” Logan spat as he shoved Leo away. “Don’t even finish that sentence. I knew something was wrong, I knew it-”

Leo grabbed his hands firmly and pulled them against his chest, keeping him from moving farther away. “And I was the one who told you that you were worrying too much. If we’re going to be playing the blame game, you’re not shouldering it alone.” His eyes and nose were all red now, and Logan could feel the stutter in his breathing. “Sometimes it’s ok to not be ok, Tremz.”

“Peanut-” Logan watched as tears spilled over and down Leo’s cheeks, his lower lip trembling. He’d never seen the blond cry before and, oh, he hated it. His fingers twitched to reach for him, but he couldn’t help but hesitate. No matter how many times he’d managed to be gentle with Leo, Logan still wasn’t accustomed to it – he was used to callouses from training too long with a weapon, to split, bloody knuckles after a fight, to using those hands to hurt.

He never wanted to hurt the one standing in front of him.

“Come here,” he mumbled finally and reached up to wipe away a tear ever-so-gently, keeping the pressure feather-light against the delicate arch of his cheekbone. “Leo-”

Leo exhaled sharply as he collided with Logan, and it seemed like his entire body was shaking. Logan held him close, backed them up so that they were beside the bed and sat down heavily, guiding Leo down with him as his own eyesight got blurry. His hand came to rest in fluffy blond curls as they sat there and held each other and allowed themselves to ache.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, all he knew was that he practically catapulted himself across the room when his phone started ringing.

“Loops?” He demanded as soon as he picked up, putting the phone on speaker and returning to his spot next to Leo, who ran the coarse material of his sweatshirt sleeve against his cheeks and sniffled. Logan held the phone in one hand and used the other to tug Leo closer. They both needed the contact.

“The license plate was a bust,” Loops cut to the chase, words firm but gentle. “Luckily for us, though, we’ve got an ex-Snake on our side.”

Sirius’ voice reached them next. “I've narrowed it down to three possible locations where they could be keeping Finn.”

Logan didn’t hesitate. “So we send agents to all of them, plan a coordinated attack.”

“Tremblay, the mission-”

“Fuck the mission. And fuck the Snakes. This is Finn.” He snarled, pulling up short when he heard a sharp inhale beside him. He looked over at Leo, then down to the hand he was gripping way too hard. He dropped Leo’s hand in an instant, guiltily retracting his own to rest in his lap with a wince.

So much for being gentle.

Shit.

Delicate, nimble fingers traced along the tendons stretching across the back of Logan’s clenched fist and uncurled his hand. He watched as those same fingers laced their way between his and squeezed back just as hard as he had earlier – a strong, steady lifeline that Logan desperately grabbed hold of and clung to for dear life.

He barely listened as Loops started talking about how they needed to be careful and think this through – which was true, he knew that. But a big part of him simply didn’t care. He was done sitting on the sidelines, waiting for something to go wrong. Maybe it was time to be a little reckless. This seemed like a high risk, high reward situation if Logan had ever seen one.

“We’re going to get some analysts in and figure out what our next move is going to be.” Remus said seriously. “That doesn’t mean we’re sitting back and doing nothing, we just need to be smart about this. We’re not leaving him there. I promise.”

“His brother,” Leo whispered, his grip tightening. “Finn said he had a brother who’s a spy down in Florida. Has anyone contacted him yet?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He deserves to know.” Logan swallowed thickly, another crack forming in his heart. “If it was one of my sisters, I’d want to know.”

“We’ll call him.” Sirius vowed solemnly. Of all people, he was sure to understand that. “You two need to try and get some rest. We’ll be in contact tomorrow.”

Logan just barely held back a snort. Rest. That wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. He just knew he was going to be spending the night staring at the ceiling, all too aware of the glaringly empty space beside him.

God, Finn.

Leo moved suddenly to pull his hand away, startling Logan out of his thoughts and making him hold on that much harder, an instinctive action. For an irrational split-second he was convinced Leo was leaving him, too. Something written on his face must’ve given him away because Leo’s eyes softened and he scooted closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed against Logan’s skin, staying close. Logan let his eyes close and breathed him in, free hand fisting in the material of his sweatshirt and pulling him impossibly closer. A car alarm started blaring in the parking lot outside, but neither of them moved. Logan didn’t even flinch at the abruptness of the sound. All he could think about was Finn, god knows where, alone. Without them.

They were a package deal. You weren’t supposed to have one without the other two.

But now one was gone and in danger and Logan was livid. At himself, at this situation, at this damn job.

He needed to fix this.

***

Remus sifted through another digital file, unsure what exactly he was looking for but pushing on nonetheless. Eventually, if he read enough, he’d find something useful. Being so far away from the action was frustrating – an uncomfortable itch under Remus’ skin. All he wanted to do was help, to rectify the situation that had turned south before he could even recognize that there was a problem. His nonchalance, his negligence had cost them an agent and a friend. There had to be something in those files somewhere.

“You need to get some sleep.” The familiar voice of his roommate said, forcing Remus to take his eyes off the laptop and squint up at him, his eyes taking a while to adjust from the screen. Sirius was in his pajamas, which made Remus frown. What time was it, exactly?

“It’s late.” Sirius answered his unspoken question, a hint of a smile gracing his face. “And you need to sleep.”

“I need to research-”

Sirius was at the table in an instant, closing the laptop firmly. “You’re of no use to them when you’re so tired you can’t think straight.”

Remus glared up at him, but he really couldn’t keep it up for long. He looked back down at the table and his tea, which was long cold, pigment settling to the bottom of the mug. He was exhausted. “Ok. Sleep.”

There was a soft look on Sirius’ face, warm and open and affectionate. Remus wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Sure, he had his suspicions about how the ex-Snake felt for him, but taking that next step was still daunting. There was still a lot stacked against them and no matter how much Remus wanted him – or how much Sirius wanted him back – it would still complicate things. Even then, he was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and say fuck it.

Some things were worth the complications.

“Sleep.” Sirius reiterated with a quiet laugh, then he gestured with his hand that he was keeping his eyes on Remus before disappearing into the bathroom. Remus smiled and shook his head fondly, taking his cup of cold tea and dumping it in the sink. He was living with a secret dork. He… didn’t hate the thought as much as he would have a few months ago.

After placing the mug in the dishwasher, Remus started his nightly routine – checking the locks on the front door, closing all the blinds, turning off the lights. He was walking down the hall towards his room when a head suddenly poked out around the doorframe to the bathroom, making Remus jump. Sirius stood there, toothbrush in his mouth, giving him an approving look.

There was no hiding the smile on Remus’ face. “Yes, yes, I’m going to bed. You don’t have to supervise me.”

Sirius’ next words were garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth, but the rough translation Remus got was “just checking”. That was the only translation that made sense, anyways. He continued his path to the bedroom and got ready to sleep, changing into a threadbare t-shirt and brushing his teeth before turning the light off and crawling into bed with a weary sigh.

Tomorrow. He’d start formulating a plan to get Finn out of the mess he was in tomorrow.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Sirius was standing in the doorway, looking almost hesitant.

“Just making sure you didn’t smuggle your laptop in here.”

There was a smile in Remus’ voice – even he could hear it. “I told you I was going to bed, and I am. You should, too.”

“Noted.” There was a pause, heavy with words unsaid and sentiments kept hidden in the recesses of their minds. Remus could just barely see him in the darkness – he was mostly just a dark silhouette, stark against the light from the hallway. Remus shouldn’t be doing this. And yet-

“Sirius.”

“Hmm?” He questioned, stopping in his motion of closing the bedroom door.

Remus only let himself hesitate a split-second. “Stay?” he blurted, ridiculously grateful for the cover of darkness so that Sirius didn’t witness his grimace. “I just mean – that couch can’t be comfy to sleep on. And… and I’m not sure I want to be alone right now.”

Even though he couldn’t see him, he could sense Sirius’ smile. “Sure.” He left for just a few seconds to turn off the hallway light, then returned without even stumbling once.

“Do you have night vision or something?” Remus snarked, shifting over on the bed to make room. The bed dipped and then Sirius was settling in next to him, radiating more warmth already than the heating system in the apartment. Remus refrained from moving in closer, but it was a close thing.

“Snuck into my brother’s bedroom all the time when I was a kid.” He mused, pulling the blankets up a little higher as he got comfortable. “Got pretty good at maneuvering around in the dark.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile at that. “Me too.”

They went quiet after that, Sirius’ breathing slow and even, a metronome keeping the time as they both tried to sleep. Remus really did try but he couldn’t seem to turn his brain off, constantly aware of just who was in his bed right that second. He sucked in a determined breath, then rolled onto his side to face his roommate.

“Sirius.”

“Hmm?” Sirius repeated, quieter this time. Even this close he still couldn’t see much, only what the not-quite full moon illuminated for him – a strong jaw, the slope of his nose, the glint to his dark hair. It would be so easy to just close the distance between them and kiss him. He wanted to.

On top of that, he was pretty sure Sirius wanted him to.

He’d always thought getting here would be complicated and confusing and require so much talking. Well, they were here now and they didn’t really have to say a word, which surprised Remus. But there was this… charge between them, polar and magnetic, that pushed the two together as naturally and easily as taking their next breaths. At this point it felt almost inevitable, no longer worth fighting against Remus’ better judgement.

He tasted like the toothpaste Remus always bought. The cheap, off-brand one he’d used as a kid and just kept on using as he grew up. Remus wasn’t sure he could ever use that toothpaste without thinking of him now, him and the way he tangled their legs together and ran his tongue across the seam of Remus’ lips, urging them open. Remus hummed against his lips and kissed him back; the only thought going through his head was finally.

Sirius threw a leg across Remus’ to straddle his hips and then moved to balance over him, a looming, faceless shadow in the dark.

And Remus froze, the feeling of being caged-in catapulting him back all those years ago to the floor of an otherwise empty warehouse, a fierce hand on his shoulder pulling and pulling and pulling-

“You good?” Sirius breathed, pressing a quick, careful kiss to the hinge of his jaw, nose brushing against his cheek as he leaned back to look at Remus. The soft, concerned way he said it brought Remus back to reality quickly.

He was ok. This was ok.

“Mmhmm.” Remus pulled Sirius closer by the hips, greedy for the contact, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in some dimly-lit warehouse. There were cool sheets underneath him, the sound of his ancient heating system rattling away as it worked, and the taste of toothpaste in his mouth. The figure hovering over him was smaller, more compact. The eyes that gleamed in the dark were gray, not dark and feral. The hand gripping his shoulder wasn’t intended to hurt but to anchor, to soothe. He sighed into their next kiss and finally let himself relax against the pillows, safe in Sirius’ arms – a sentence he never thought he’d say, but he sure was grateful for evolving circumstances.

***

They were taking a break from bashing Finn’s face in, apparently.

He warily watched the two Snakes that entered the room, eyesight hindered by one swollen, puffy eyelid. They didn’t approach him, though, instead choosing to stand between him and the open door – a clear attempt at reminding Finn just who was in control of this situation.

He couldn’t help but smile sarcastically. If they had to use subliminal messages to come across as intimidating, they were getting desperate.

And Finn wasn’t cracking.

He was morbidly curious to see what they had in mind.

He leaned back against the wall and regarded them, feigning uninterest. “What’s on the agenda for this meeting, boys?”

Two identical glares were shot his way. Finn shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle while holding back a wince. “I’d like a printed-out itinerary, when you get a chance.”

“We just want to talk.”

Finn snorted. “That’s worked really well so far.”

“We’ve got some incentive for you this time.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is this a guessing game? Because I’ve definitely got a few ideas brewing that would be great incentive: a large meat lovers pizza – extra cheese, please – oh, or a TV! It gets terribly boring when you leave me here all by my lonesome. A book would also be adequate.”

The two looked at each other. The shorter one on the right looked exhausted, and – to quote one Leo Knut, bless his heart. Finn grinned. He could practically hear the phrase in a sarcastic, too-sweet drawl. Apparently it didn’t always mean what most people thought it meant in the south.

As if they could read his mind the tired-one said, “Your partners. The ones that came barging into the restaurant and caused quite the scene.”

Of course they did, those dumbasses. Finn just knew Logan had been leading the charge; he was too hot-headed for his own good.

“They’re long gone by now,” he bluffed, although he knew better. They were still camped out in that hotel room, plotting. He was sure of it. He ached a little at the thought – a nauseating combination of worry and homesickness and knowing that they were hurting because of him and his inability to recognize that he’d been drugged, for god’s sake. Some agent he was. “So good luck finding them.”

“Really? That’s interesting,” The taller of the two crossed his arms over his chest. “Our sources tell us they’re still in the city.”

Tired-Snake pulled a picture out of the folder in his hand and handed it over to Finn. A blond and a brunet, pressed as close together as they possibly could and looking down at the same phone screen in a small hotel room. A hotel room he was all too familiar with, seeing that he was just there earlier that day. He could see his dress shoes in the exact same place he’d kicked them off after the gala, one still on its side. Finn wanted to see his partners again more than anything, but not like this – used like bargaining chips to get him to talk.

He could use this, though, if he played his cards right. So he let his eyes widen and over-exaggerated the trembling of his hand as he held onto the picture too tight. The fear was real – he didn’t have to act too hard this time. The words he said, however…

“I don’t know what you want me to say. They were backup, that’s all.” Technically not all a lie, but definitely not truthful either. “I was supposed to go in, gather as much intel as I could, and get out. That’s it. What else would I have been doing in a public place like that?”

The Snakes looked at each other, then back at Finn. They were at this strange impasse – they didn’t know that Gryffindor was going after the flash drives, and Finn wasn’t supposed to know about the flash drives in the first place. Neither of them could bring them up without revealing how much they knew.

“What were you going to use the intel for?” Tired-one asked finally. “What are you planning?”

“You expect me to know? I’m just a field agent. I get the intel, then immediately hand it over to the analysts and let them do their thing. I’m at the bottom of the food chain, dudes. I don’t know shit. Just-” he hesitated for longer than he needed to, reeling the Snakes in with his performance – the battle of conflicting emotions on his face, the nervous tapping of his foot, the way he bit his lip and winced when he remembered that it was already split. “Just leave them alone, ok? They don’t know any more than I do about all this.”

The taller Snake grabbed the picture from him, watching Finn hesitate to give it back. “Cooperate, and that won’t be an issue.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Finn relaxed his control over his expressions and glared like he’d been wanting to for so long. Because really. How dare they threaten his boys.

They should’ve known that would only give him more incentive to throw them as far off the trail as he possibly could.

***

Logan wasn’t sleeping, but that didn’t change the fact that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Leo sat bolt upright in bed with a sudden gasp.

“Nutty, what the hell-”

“I just thought of something.” He rushed to say, voice deep and scratchy from lack of use. He threw the sheets off, scrambled out of bed, and let all the cold air in as he turned the light on and hurried to the tiny hotel closet. Logan glared after him, grabbing the duvet and tucking it up around his chin again.

“What’s up?” He watched Leo hesitate at what he came across in the closet – a dark suit haphazardly thrown on a hanger, tie hanging from the hook. The tiniest of reminders of who used to be there with them – who should still be there with them. The blond took a deep breath and moved it aside, reaching for his own gray suit and digging around in the pockets for something. Logan sat up as he watched, brow furrowing. “Nutty?”

“Regulus slipped me his number at that party.” Leo explained, finally finding what he was looking for and pulling out a small business card. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier? If he knows anything, maybe he’ll tell us.”

Logan sighed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to tamp down the hope threatening to well up. “If they’re not keeping tabs on who he’s calling and messaging, what he’s saying.”

“He’s high up – why would they doubt him?”

“Because he’s got a brother who got out.”

“He thought Sirius was dead.” Leo pointed out, flopping back onto the bed and grabbing his phone from where it was plugged in on the nightstand. “So why wouldn’t the rest of the Snakes?” The glow from the screen illuminated a look of such blind optimism that probably hurt Logan more than it should have. Because one of these days, Leo would only be disappointed.

“He’s on our side, according to Sirius.” Leo continued as he tapped out a message. “I think he’ll help.”

Logan figured it was worth a shot. They were running low on options and he was willing to try just about anything if it meant getting Finn back. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over Leo’s shoulder at the screen right as he hit send.

Regulus looked down at his phone as it buzzed, seeing a text from an unknown number.

Is he ok?

He let out a long-suffering sigh, puffing out his cheeks as he did so. He’d only given this number to one person recently and that was quickly proving to be a mistake. They were going to do something stupid, weren’t they? And that put him in a very uncomfortable spot. Did he help them and risk getting caught, or did he let them try some half-assed plan on their own – because they would, he had no doubts about that – and risk never being able to get out of here?

Both options were unappealing.

“Everything ok?” Finn questioned around a bite of the food Regulus had smuggled in for him, quickly bringing Regulus out of his thoughts.

Well I’m currently debating on helping your boyfriends bust you out of here. Does that count as ok?

“None of your business.” He said instead, not sparing Finn another glance. If Finn had any idea what was going on, he’d try to put a stop to it. Regulus knew the type – self-sacrificing idiots. He’d rather sit there and get beaten to a pulp than put the other two in danger. Best to save him the extra stress and just not say anything.

Plus, this could be his chance to get out too. Instead of trying to get out on his own and then having no safe connections outside the Snakes besides his brother, he’d have a group to travel with. Safety in numbers, and all that. People who actually knew where they were going and who would watch his back. They would owe him after this, and that meant a leg up. It meant a safety net.

Regulus unlocked his phone again and started typing.

Listen carefully.

[anxiouslyfred]

The Stone Gaze

Summary: Virgil hates that he can temporarily turn people into stone and hopes that whatever the mirror superpower his soulmate has is able to counteract it.

He wasn’t quite expecting the energy and impulsiveness of Remus when they met in an Art Exhibition.

/\/\/\

Virgil hated his powers. He hated a lot of things really, but the power he had was the number one thing he hated and that barely even counted as self-hate or self-deprecation given a lot of the reasoning for it was how his powers impacted his life.

The only time he'd come close to thinking his 'superpower' (as society had deemed things not everybody could do) was when they were studying mythology and had covered Medusa. She had turned people to stone permanently as a gift to protect herself from those who would idolise or attack her. Before they learnt the ending that had seemed like a pretty cool thing to be able to do, but then she was killed as part of a heroes journey and Virgil realised how little people would think of his power should they learn about it. It was mythologically a villains power after all.

Hiding his powers wasn't enough to keep Virgil from the attention of bullies. They picked on him because he always wore his father hoodie after they lost him to illness. They'd call him names because he'd learnt to keep his hair, especially his fringe long enough to cover his eyes so nobody would get accidentally turned to stone. Eventually they'd even harass him to do their homework because his Dad pushed for good study habits.

Refusing to react to their insults or requests only reached the point they tried to beat him up once. When the leader of that group had shoved him against a wall his hair had fallen backwards, leaving a clear gaze directed to the bullies. As soon as the leader became stone the other kids had fled, crying for the teacher to come help.

Virgil's Dad had been called to the school to pick him up and explicitly direct everyone's attention to what had clearly been happening, given the position the boy had been frozen in while refusing to allow any punishment to be given to Virgil. Even once that was accepted by the teachers and school they tried to demand that he wore sunglasses or a visor to school for the safety of staff and children alike.

“I will not police the clothes my son wears because your staff cannot respect someone who doesn't meet their gaze directly. He has found that the long fringe is enough to counteract his powers and given the years he has attended this school without incident that should be perfectly suitable to carry on with.” His Dad has lectured the head teacher that day. He'd given more evidence that Virgil hadn't listened to, but the sentence stuck in his head. Once more his powers were up to him to control and prevent from being used and it felt like an even heavier weight to carry than he'd already found it.

The days of his schooling after that were lonely, isolated as he feared anyone he might befriend would try to meet his eyes. The only hope he had for getting through his life was that somewhere in their world was his soulmate; a person whose powers would mirror his own, and possibly, on the nights Virgil was willing to dream impossible things, counteract his gaze that turned people to stone.

/Over to Remus\

Roman had been the one to bring Remus into exhibiting his work. Honestly, Roman had been the twin to get them both into the art world in the first place. The charismatic, charming artist, whose painting were filled with energy most paintings couldn't capture and dreamt of finding his soulmate. When the art world had discovered he had a brother just as skilled in sculpting they were pulled around and paired together for exhibits constantly.

Remus had originally tried to explain the truth, that their works looked like they held more of life in them because that was what their powers did. Roman could bring paintings to life temporarily, and had often painted portraits of his friends and family so he could still talk to them while they were away. Remus in contrast brought sculptures to life when he touched them with a wish to talk. They'd always be in different positions than he'd awakened them from by the time the power wore off so he got praised for how realistic or believable his positions were.

None of that praise meant anything to Remus though. He sculpted things to feel less alone, to have people to talk to that wouldn't react in disgust or turn away when he said something a little more twisted than society was used to hearing. Each model he made had a mouth to talk and their own way to express their reactions so he could for a while feel accepted by someone other than his brother.

Today he had actually listened to Roman's claims that it's better for their exhibitions when the artist spends times at the display. Of course that didn't mean he was going to dress any differently that normal, just throwing on the torn skinny jeans and an off the shoulder top, with a jacket draped over his shoulders for when the air conditioning got too cold. Art Galleries always seemed to keep the space too cold, Remus swore on it.

“You can't be in here Mate.” An angry voice said, a hand accompanying it yanking him around to face a tall suited man, scowling down at him. “This is an art gallery and I don't care what the fuck you did to sneak in here you're gonna be-”

Remus had already started glancing for a nearby sculpture to reach for when the words cut off. The man whose voice had slowly been raising had now turned to stone, finger raised to point out the door.

“I'm the artist?” He blinked, properly turning now to try and find who else was in the gallery that might have done it.

A few metres directly behind where Remus was, there was a man looking like he would run any second, staring at the floor as though ashamed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to do that.” He mumbled, “The yelling startled me.”

“You're okay, dude. No harm, no wild birds around here.” Remus nodded, reaching back to poke the side of the angry man, focusing on him being alive and calm now.

“Apologies, I probably shouldn't have yelled, but seriously, homeless people aren't allowed in art galleries.” The man who had been yelling declared, having taken a deep breath as the stone released him.

Remus just raised an eyebrow at that. “Just because I haven't dressed all posh like you doesn't mean I'm homeless. And given I'm the one who sculpted most of the statues in this gallery, I believe your judgemental attitude can be taken elsewhere, or shoved up your ass since that seems to be where the rest of your personality is kept. Have your fun in hell, not in my gallery.” He spoke quickly, already directing the man away from the gallery, and nodding to the security guard that wandered between their exhibits.

He didn't delay any longer than that, caring more for the man who had turned him to stone than anything more that could be said. That had to be the complete opposite to his own powers, whether it had been a permanent transformation or just a temporary one, he wanted to know.

Luckily the man was still stood there, blinking at the spot where the angry fellow had been frozen. “He- he shouldn't... That never wears off that quickly.” He was mumbling to himself, not realising Remus had returned.

“Hey there modern day Medusa, you doing alright?” Remus tapped his shoulder, tilting his head when the acknowledgement was for the man to stare at his neck rather than look at him.

“F-fine. Sorry about that though. It really was an accident.”

“Why are you apologising for helping me calm the situation down before he did more than yell? I got him out of the stone and sent on his way. It's all hot stuff in heaven today.” Remus was genuinely confused over what was upsetting the man in front of him. Everything had been sorted out so surely they could move on to talking about soulmates already.

There was a quick glance up, to stare at his ear now, or maybe something over his shoulder. “You got him out of the stone? That wasn't my power just wearing off more quickly than normal?” There was a plea in his voice, as though scared of his own power.

“Yep, and while I can't really prove that here, given everything is already photographed and needs to remain the same to be sold, you can come see my works in progress. I'm Remus, by the way, Remus Windsor.” The offer was easy to give. No matter what people believed about needing to test contrasting powers in public to understand if they're completely opposites, he just wanted to calm this person down. Roman would understand that and hopefully leave to paint in the park or some sappy shit like that.

“Virgil and, yeah, please can we do that?” Virgil nodded, holding a shaking hand out towards him, while the other started pulling the hair that had fallen to his ears back in front of his eyes.

As Remus took his hand he was finally able to meet Virgil's gaze and grinned, tugging on it so they could run out of the gallery together, looking something between art thieves making their escape and teenagers causing mischief.

/To the art gallery\

“Princess, you better get your fat ass and any talking paintings the hell out of here. I've got my Medusa and we need to confirm this shit without an audience.” Remus barged through the doors still tugging Virgil along behind him.

Virgil was astounded by what had occurred in the last hour. He'd only visited the art gallery on a whim, curious over just how lifelike a sculptures positioning could be compared to what he'd seen when accidentally using his own power on people. He hadn't expected to almost add to the exhibition temporarily or to meet someone who could be his soulmate there as well.

Now he could only look around the studio that Remus had explained he shared with his brother. The walls were covered in paintings in various stages of completion. Some looked finished but missing the energy that the paintings back in the gallery had held, others were clearly completely done, but held back. A few canvases were merely sketches or only had their backgrounds coloured in.

Then there was the stone. There were throughout the entire studio several large boulders, some chipped into enough that a hand could be seen reaching out, or the nose of a dog. A few were just legs waving into the air, vague shapes for the rest of the body chipped away but the lips immaculately carved. There was even a potters wheel at the opposite end with a few vases and ceramic models left on a table beside it.

“Remus, seriously, you cannot just kick me out. I'm doing an oil painting.” There was a man identical to Remus stood in front of the only Easel in the gallery, now turned to them frowning with his brush poised to the canvas.

Virgil dithered for a moment before stepping forward. “Oil paints don't exactly dry quickly. You could spare a few minutes for us to figure our if we're soulmates couldn't you?” He muttered, for the first time in years looking up as someone turned to him. He wasn't going to deliberately use his powers without permission now, but having some evidence that Remus actually can reverse the medusa affect straight away would seriously take a weight from his mind.

The painter watched him for a moment before stepping closer, setting his brush down. “I'm Roman. Wouldn't it be more useful for you to prove this on a real person? Although I can understand the uses of turning Remus's sculptures back to stone at will. There's been a few incidents where they've been even worse than he can be.”

“Roman's volunteering to be tortured. Let's do it, see how long we can keep making him stone and real again in quick succession.” Remus stage whispered at him, cackling when Roman flipped him off.

Virgil just nodded, “Only once. I want to know if Remus actually can reverse this.” He cautioned, but turned his head enough to properly meet Roman's gaze, watching as grey stole over his body in a second.

Before Virgil could worry over how Remus would react to seeing that done deliberately, he was leaning forwards to shove his brother backwards, giggling along with the action. Roman was human again by the time he hit the floor, now scowling up at Remus.

“Okay, Rude. I offer to help my darling sibling confirm their soulmate is theirs and you shove me to the floor. I cannot work in such a hostile environment. I'm taking my leave of you, pray it won't be permanently.” He stood up, throwing the glare at them and leaving with all the dramatics of a pantomime dame.

Virgil had to snicker along with Remus as the door was slammed shut. Honestly, half of it was that he had to laugh or he might just burst into tears. In all his wildest dreams he hadn't thought his soulmate would be so excited to have his powers with them.

“Let's try on my figurines! I'm trying to make a dragon witch I can set lose to torment Roman when I'm heading out, and already have my Cthulhu baby, just waiting to be given life. Wanna see if you can turn them back to stone if I wake 'em up?” Remus was once again holding his hand and tugging him to the other end of the room as soon as he finished laughing.

“Before we do that, are you wanting a romantic soulmate, or a platonic one? I don't really care which we have but I'd be happier if we got to know each other first.” Virgil hesitated a moment, tugging back on his arm.

Remus waved off the question. “We'll cross that bridge when we reach it. If you want sex or not I'm making models I can sleep with anyway. They're funny to talk to if they realise how I made their bodies. Come on, meet my Cthulhu baby!” The whine was emphasised by bouncing and Virgil's arm being jumped up and down rapidly.

“Okay, okay, guess that explains why some are so twisted around as though trying to hide their bodies.” Virgil laughed, walking once more towards the table.

Virgil hated his superpower, and probably always would, but perhaps Remus can help him find a couple of things it's good to be medusa for.

[fakeloveaskblog]

(I just finished a design for snaily and now I want to give myself a lil party top hat-and OOOO angst >:) )

Ofc rowan, I'll get you connected if you would like :) I love new friends

Now Janus,your turn I believe! You look very pretty today, I may add.

Have you ever...felt jealous of something? Or perhaps, someone? Or not quite jealousy, perhaps a longing? Or both?

🐌🕸

(oooh snaily design :0)

"Darling you were already my friend!" Rowan exclaimed. She moved to pet you on your shell but hesitated when she remembered you're quite gooey "BUuuuuut if you got me those contacts you would be even dearer and nearer to my heart!!"

Your big black eyes turned to Janus. Remy had laid their head in his lap and he was idly playing with the longer strips of hair near their ears.

He cocked his eyebrow when you complimented him "Well thanks deary but if you're complimenting me right before asking me something I suspect you're simply buttering me up"

Remus let out a supportive "oooooH Snaily playing dirty buttering tricks"

Logan crossed arms and nodded while murmuring "Ah yes. Classic Have you ever tactic" As if he was an expert in this game.

You asked your question. In response Janus looked at you in silence for a few seconds, their eyes looking up to the ceiling, before they shrugged and lifted the half filled glass of red wine.

They held it up as if to say cheers before downing it and leaning back against the couch. The rest of the group waited in anticipation for them to actually say something.

"What?" Janus let out "The rules of the game is to take a shot if it's true, not to share a bunch of details about it"

"That just makes it sound like you're hiding something!" Rowan said.

"Yeah now it sounds like you have like 4 dead bodies in your freezer" Her brother agreed.

Janus held up their hands and pouted "Sooorryy. Just following the rules"

"I think that categorizes you as a coward" Logan said stone cold.

They gasped "Logie!? Not you too!? Everyone here is against me!"

"Sorry honey but Patty has this specific magnetic effect that makes it so all of her partners need to be gossipy bitches"

Logan and Rowan high fived each other.

Janus rolled their eyes "I didn't kiss anyone until I was 22! Obviously I have been jealous of many a people. I've been jealous of ads in malls because the ladies in them got to wear pretty skirts. I've been jealous of people who can go to a normal clothes store and find pants who fit them properly. I've known longing like no one else every time in the changing room after gym class when I hid in the toilet out of sheer embarrassement"

Remy poked their finger into his cheek "You wouldn't try to avoid the question if it was that simple"

He looked down at them. Their sunglasses reflected his face back, there was a lazy smile on their lips, their hair was sprawled out over his thigh.

He leant his chin on his hand to try and hide his slightly flustered look from them as he mumbled out the quietest possible "I might have been a bit jealous of....ⱽᶦʳᵍᶦˡ"

Rowan immediately sent an 'oh shit' type of look to her girlfriend while leaning forward to take chips from a bowl on the coffee table.

Everyone was in different stages of silence as well until Remy let up into a loud snort followed by slurred giggling.

"Aww Jannie did you wanna bash my head in as well?"

They moved their hand to trail their finger along his jaw. He glanced away.

"That's why I didn't want to say it. It sounds very wrong, I'm aware. It was more the part where that bastard got to live a...a quite ideal..uhm...life...and he wasted that wonderful chance...Even though I feel jealousy that he got chance I feel a lot more animosity and resentment towards him"

He could have gone more into detail. How jealous he was that Virgil had gotten to wake up next to Remy. That Virgil had gotten to know them for many many more years than he had. That Virgil had gotten to share countless dinners and late nights and calm mornings with them.

But he choose not to say that.

"OHOHO!" Remy let out a laugh and pointed up at Janus. Their movements were so hasty they nearly poked their nail into his eye "You're jealous 'cause like Vivzie got to take me as a fair virgin maiden!"

"You're past the point of tipsy and I will gracefully ignore the buffoonery you just said"

Remy kept poking their finger all over his face "He got to like choke me and hold me down as well which must have been like tooots hot to the person Not being HUrt. Sounds prettty lovey dovey of you Janny. A bit buttery. A bit smooth. Some roses and candles type of shit. Right ladies?"

They looked over to Rowan and Patty who was sharing a bowl of popcorn at this point. They glanced at each other before nodding.

"Right in front of like Logie too! Bad Jannnny" How much fucking wine had Remy managed to drink. The ketamine probably wasn't helping.

"We're in an open relationship. I could not muster up any negative feeling about this if I tried" Logan added.

Janus took Remy's poking hand in his and went back to stroking their hair. They had a bit of a zoned out look in their eyes but the smile on their lips stayed.

"I do feel similar bouts of jealousy about....other people...I long quite often after things I know it wouldn't be a good time for"

For a moment Janus glanced over to Remus. He noticed and both quickly looked away from each other. His cheeks went just a bit red as he thought about what Jan could have meant.

Patty threw a piece of popcorn and Logan caught it perfectly in his mouth "Alright! Next question! This is fun!" She exclaimed.

[hp-generation-now-unhappy-boutit]

Harry Potter FRED AU (It could not be named anyhow else and you’ll soon know why)

Please bear with me I swear I’ll make the lenght worth it

I also promise this one AIN’T SAD

Few days ago I was taking a nap and when I woke up my half-conscious brain thought about the name Albus Severus again because it’s a terrible name whether he is named after anyone or not. And I thought ‘did Ginny even get any say in it or what the hell’.

I really think that Harry should name their first child (he did) James Sirius, which is fine, Ginny would name their second son and together they would name their little girl (which I think they did).

But then I thought ‘what would she name him?’ Obviously my first thought was Fred, but I was like ‘nah, that one is for George’s kid... unless’

Here comes my AU, imagine it with me:

It is the first 1st of April after the battle, it isn’t very happy for someone’s birthday, then Percy gets an idea. He cannot forget how the last thing he said to Fred made him smile and he refuses to do anything on his birthday that would not achieve the same goal. So he looks at George and proposes this... what if every one of the siblings named at least one of their child Fred or any equivalent of that, if for nothing else than at least for the chaos it will create at Hogwarts. Everyone is silent for so long Percy just wants to take it back and obliviate everyone, but then Fleur stands up to it and gets really passionate about it and then it slowly dawns on everyone and they love it. It is the first time in all those months that George gives them a non-forced smile. Everyone is super into it. Mrs. Weasley is crying because a) she is happy because her boy is smiling again b) she knows she will be super embarrassed if she ever has to talk to McGonagall after she finds out about this and c) she thought Percy was better than this. Nevertheless if it makes George smile again, she won’t be too harsh about it.

It goes something like this (I’m kind of ignoring the cannon children, but whatever):

- Bill and Fleur name their firstborn daughter Frédérique. She had some mean kids try to laugh at her for it because they thought it’s stupid. She shut their mouths pretty quickly.

- Charlie doesn’t have kids. But he did discover a new breed of dragon, which main trait is that it isn’t violent at all, it’s just really mischievious and will mess up with everyone and everything. Charlie names the breed Island Trickster, for both the experts and amateurs the nickname Fred catches on pretty quickly even though majority of people doesn’t know why.

- Percy’s first child is also a girl but he refuses to let anything stop him from naming his child Fred, because a) it was his idea and b) he’ll be damned if anything keeps him from making this prank, that he created in honour of his brother, work. She gets the name Frederica. She hates it and demands her family calling her by her second name. They do and none of them mind, but before she departs for Hogwarts her parents take her aside and explain why they named her this way. Her prankster blood kicks in and from the moment she steps on the train she introduces herself as Frederica, Fred for short.

- George’s first kids are twins, boy and girl. There is no hesitation - their names are immediately Fred and Freda. When they have the second child, there is a mild discussion, but eventually his name is Fredrick. Proud of their legacy, at school neither will respond to anything but Fred. They become Fred & Fred and Fred.

- Ron, who through Hermione discovered Queen, decides to name their son Freddie. Hermione doesn’t see a reason to protest, she loves it.

- Ginny lets Harry name their first son. First, she likes the name James Sirius. Second, whatever happens that child will have prank as their blood type, so there is really no need to add onto that. Third, she is naming their second child and it will be a version of Fred. Harry does not protest at all, because a) he already has his son named after his father and godfather and b) he refuses to stand in the way of this prank. Also Ginny, being the undercover little shit she is, names their son Fred George... everyone keeps calling him Fred and George. They both also talk about naming their daughter Lily Luna Freda or something and they do, it’s just not that public so she can do with that potential whatever she wants.

It also happens that the whole former gryffindor quidditch team joins in on this (including Lee Jordan, who is considered part of the team) as well as bunch of other friends.

Mrs. Weasley is still a little sceptical but she can’t deny that her boy would be proud. Her job also gets a little easier, because now she just automatically makes her grandchildren sweaters with F. Sometimes she makes more of those that she should but the kids love it (cue later).

Meanwhile in heaven James, Sirius and Remus are both really excited and really jealous. Fred is waiting for the chaos to take reign.

As for Hogwarts, most of the professors are losing it sometimes with entertainment (they mostly enjoy it when someone else is in pain because of this and they love to watch it), sometimes with annoyance, sometimes with both and sometimes actually losing it about to break down and cry (especially when some of their colleagues would just watch and smile). Alltogether in all the houses there is about twenty Fred Weasleys (boys, girls, first names, second names) and the Potters (James Sirius, Fred George and Lily Luna) plus the other Freds - all of them there for two or three years, which basically translates into destruction of the highest level.

There are family gatherings frequently at the Burrow, where they all just sit around the table writing letters to their kids and all of them writing one howler.

The howler arrives to a random person, usually a friend of one of the Weasley/Potter kids and the whole Great hall hears, “FRED! WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME?!”

All the Fred’s look at each other, because they all did something they shouldn’t (which their parents don’t know, but the kids don’t know they don’t know). No one also knows which Fred it is meant for. No one knows if they are being scolded or messed with.

Very rarely the howler would yell, “FRED WEASLEY”, and in the fat pause after that, every single person in the room can hear, Fred George Potter say “oh, thank Merlin’s nightgown.”

Sometimes the howler would shout, “FRED. I AM SO DISSAPPOINTED IN YOU. YOU WERE NOT GIVEN THIS NAME TO KEEP PEACE AND TRANQUILITY AT THE SCHOOL!” Molly Weasley may or may not scold her children and children-in-law for this one. (Obviously if the kids weren’t into pranking their parents would never force them or out them like this, but since they are all openly on board this happens way too often for the professors’ liking.

Then there is christmas time. Most of the kids leave for home... most of them except for the Weasley/Potters and some of the other Freds, whose parents are friends with the Weasleys. The sweaters come and... every signle one has a F on it. None of the kids protest. They wear it proudly. There are attempts at making fun of them. It doesn’t work.

James walks around announcing to everyone repeatedly and very loudly that his name is Fames Firius Fotter. In the meantime, as long as Lily is wearing her sweater, she refuses to react to anything but Fily or Funa and that includes the teachers.

Everyone tries to resist, everyone breaks down eventually.

McGonagall wants to look stern, but she is loving it.

There is a relatively new professor trying to complain to the colleague sitting next to him. Neville Longbottom, who names his children Frank Fred, Alice Fredricka and Augusta Freda, nods sympathetically while sipping his tea. “I know,” he says. “Imagine if one of them named their kid something like Prank. We would call them a normal name now.”

That is the moment Minerva McGonagall loses it and actually chuckles. Every single one of the kids writes a letter to their parents about that one.

All hell loses all the breaks on April Fools. McGonagall wanted to go easy on punishing the pranks for several reasons and one of them is that it is the twins birthday. It takes one April Fools when the kids take it relatively easy for them to figure out the punichments are quite mild. The next year they go Wild and  McGonagall understands that her nostalgia is a dangerous thing. She stops it then and there, because she knows it won’t stop them, it might just stop some people from getting hurt.

Sometimes Peeves won’t have the mood to come up with something himself so he just goes with calling everyone Fred. Some teachers take from it, figuring that if they don’t remember someone’s name it must be because they decided they will deduce it later, which translates to “the name is Fred”.

Years later when the children leave Hogwarts there is formed a new quidditch team. The name is “Flying Freds”. They are all married and stuff, so their last names are all different, but all of them share the name Fred, which only increases the children named Fred, because who wouldn’t name their child after their favourite quidditch team, amiright?

People in both the wizarding and muggle world are astonished as to Why is there suddenly such a popularity to the name, while in the afterlife Fred won’t stop saying shit like “The students have surpassed the teachers.” and the Marauders are both upset they didn’t manage something like that, but also impressed and really loving it.

McGonagall once talks about it with George and he says it was Percy’s idea. Percy, always perfect prefect Percy, blushes as McGonagall looks at him and says: “All those years I was worried you aren’t an actually Weasley and you’ve just been hiding all that potential, hm.”

It is that moment they understand she might have always been strict, but she loved those little and big pranks simply because they were creative and smart and she was always so proud of the Marauders and the twins for it.

[brandstifter-sys]

Sonnets

Word Count: 2144 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety with some Creativitwins

Rating: T+

Warnings: Sexual themes, brotherly angst, talk of death

Roman finds a journal and assumes it’s Remus’ but when Remus says it’s not his Roman leaves him with it, so he has some time to read. Little does he know what will come from perusing that book.

-----

Remus was chaos, he didn't bend to anyone else's rules unless he wanted to. Almost nothing was off the table for him—gore, violence, monsters, pain—but he had limits. Don't steal Janus' hat when he isn't holding or wearing it, because an angry Janus meant silence, or worse being silenced and alone. Never ever get too gross with Patton, because he will scream and cry and flash those hideous puppy dog eyes! Stay at least 6 feet away from Logan or suffer through a lecture on how little influence the duke held. Never let Roman hurt himself so bad he can't heal. And never ever read Virgil's diaries. 

Remus was happily throwing shurikens at a large canvas with paint balloons, having fun despite only hitting the ones filled with red. It was just a little annoying to only have one color on a solid white background, and even more annoying when it was Roman's colors staring at him. Roman hadn't been much of a good brother in the past few years, and it stung to think about how they drifted apart. How almost everyone ran from him to Roman. It hurt to be so lonely. 

"Greetings, Your Disgrace!" Roman said as he entered the castle atrium suddenly. Remus threw another star that lodged itself in the canvas with a splash and a thump, and grinned manically at the unsettled prince. 

"Well if it isn't MacBetty himself!" Remus said and cracked his neck sharply, "What hell did I probably unleash on you today?" 

"Don't flatter yourself," Roman scoffed and held up a black journal with sparkling green trim, "You left this in the common area." 

"Did I?" he asked and righted his head with a sickening pop. He was as bad as Roman about collecting cool journals and never filling them, so it could be his, even if he didn't recognize it. Roman handed it to him and crossed his arms. 

"It would appear so. If Logan yells at me for leaving my notes lying about, he will certainly yell at me for yours." 

Remus hummed softly and ran his fingers over the cover, ignoring the jab. The trim pricked his fingers as they glided over it. It was a nice journal, but definitely not something he conjured up. He supposed it might have been a gift, but that would mean someone made something for him—someone other than Janus, and maybe just one other side, but he remembered every gift Virgil ever gave him.

"He likes to yell. Are you sure this is mine?" he questioned, still learning the rise and fall of the trim.

"I assumed, considering the design. I don't like to open other people's journals," Roman answered. Remus knew he was scared of leafing through it, probably expecting some security monster popping out the second he opened it. He didn't blame him for that one, but it stung nonetheless.

"Me neither, but now I'm curious!" Remus laughed and opened to a random page. It was all hand-written poetry. Interesting!

"It's a poetry book! Wanna hear one? It could be a hint!" Remus wiggled his eyebrows. Roman let out a short sigh but went tense. 

"I have other things to do. I came to drop off the book and now I must depart. Farewell." Roman bowed and sank out with flourish. He left far too quickly for comfort.

"Love you too, nice seeing you again, don't be a stranger," Remus pouted and went back to his room, too bummed to paint anymore. 

  He rose up and flopped on his bed with the journal open. Some angsty poetry might make him feel better. He got comfy and let his eyes traverse the page

My mouth is dry Sugary sweet and kind Choking me with my own tongue Out of everything, that saccharine isn't a lie

Remus pursed his lips. That one was really short, and with the talk of lies, he had to wonder. Was this actually Roman's? Did he want to share this with him covertly? Remus bit back a squeal at the thought and kept reading with some hope. 

Lost in translation Obstinate and selfish Get over yourself Avoidance builds pressure Never any quiet when you snap

Remus giggled, knowing exactly who that one was about! Someone pissed the author off! And he knew that that person pissed Roman off a lot! He turned the page, expecting to learn more about this author, believing they could be his brother wanting to reconnect. He was a little surprised to find a skull doodled in the corner but brushed it off.

I want to pull him from the shadows and into my heart Will he see me? Will he disappear if I reach for his hand? Am I blind and staggering in desperation? Someone like him would be better without me Someone like him deserves someone better No star deserves to succumb to a black hole

That one hurt. Remus wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. He knew that feeling all too well. The one side who made him want to obey, the side that made his heart flutter like the bats in his tummy—that side was his best friend and then he left. He missed his partner in crime and he wished that Virgil would come back, just for a visit, and spend time with him again. But that wasn't happening and he had a whole book to read about an author he could really connect with, Roman or not.

He went through several poems that were angsty and angry, full of self-loathing. With each piece he read, the more he doubted it was Roman. The language wasn't formal enough and it didn't match his style at all! It was good stuff, most of it, and Remus kind of hoped the real author would be willing to collaborate with him. He liked this guy.

Like the sun overhead, you're on fire The big man has a little golden boy Pompous and cruel with haughty desire Which one of us are you gonna destroy?

Darkness and shadow that cannot be lit Overshadowing you to make it stop Use that hubris to land another hit I'll keep fighting until the curtains drop

You think you're Hercules when you're so weak Rise like a phoenix Icarus, just try  Maybe you'll learn what it means to be meek Until that day you won't see me cry

I will rain on your parade every damn time Stopping stupidity is my worst crime

Okay so that one threw him for a loop. It would take a few minutes to piece it together. Remus decided that he could assume it was about Roman this time. Princey loved the classics and he had a pet phoenix. This author had some beef with him! Remus hoped for more anger at Roman with the next poem, because he certainly had enough pent up with the snobby, best-friend stealing, always got the spotlight prince. He didn’t get that catharsis, he got more than he bargained for.

I find comfort in breathing in his scent Even if his hands are mine for tonight If he asks, I don't know where his clothes went What I'm doing is wrong but it feels right

If I close my eyes I can taste his kiss A dream in a nightmare clouding my mind Hearing my name on his lips would be bliss To pin him down, our fingers intertwined

I long to stare into piercing jade pools So he thinks of me while I stake my claim I want him to never want to let go I always thought that love was just for fools But on his green sash, love, or something, came I almost regret that he'll never know

This was definitely not a book the author wanted to share. Remus was pretty sure that his face was going to melt off. Now he really wanted to figure out who wrote these! Someone actually liked him like that at some point! It definitely wasn't Princey in that poem—Remus still had the sash mentioned! He was just the tiniest bit turned on, but most of his hype went into his famous wiggles.

"You're so dead!" 

Remus jolted up and beamed. Virgil never stopped by anymore, so when he popped up threateningly, Remus was too happy to care or put the pieces together.

"And how do you wanna kill me? I have some suggestions!" he sang and shimmied. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms. 

"Have Janus wipe your memory and give it back." 

"What, the book?" Remus questioned and held it up. Virgil snatched it and held it to his chest protectively. Remus' eyes widened in horror.

"You wrote all that?! And I read it!? Oh no no no no no! I had no idea—I'll get Hisster Myde and scrub it away with steel wool! Dammit I am so sorry, Sca–Virgil!" Remus yelped and got up to pace. His only rule about Virgil, broken! The only rule he wanted to follow—tarnished!

"Were you about to call me 'Scabby Doo' again?" Virgil scoffed, hiding the fear and hurt he felt. 

"No, 'Scare Bear,' something kinda cute but that’s not important right now!" Remus answered, "I read your stuff without asking! I might be a crazed Camus Stranger boy, but I have some standards!" 

"Remus. Breathe. You're gonna wipe this trash from your memory and it'll be okay," Virgil tried to soothe him, only for the duke to go rigid. 

"Trash!?" Remus snarled and spun on his heels and marched up to Virgil until the lumbering emo hit the wall, confused and scared. 

"It's not trash! I know trash! I eat it for breakfast! That book holds some of the best stuff my critical creative ass has read in ages!" Remus snapped and glared up at him with a fire in his eyes. 

"What?" 

"Those poems are great! I was gonna find the author and beg on my knees like a needy subby bitch to collab with him because holy shit! I felt something with each one!" 

"Even the one with the skull doodle on the page?" Virgil squeaked, his face a beautiful shade of red. Remus smiled sadly. 

"Yeah, that one hit a little too close to home. I got all teary eyed. Thinking about it now after reading that saucy sonnet, it really hurts!" 

"I uh—" Virgil stammered, "I'm, uh, 'm sorry for the sash and the whole—"

"If you apologize for anything else I am going to lip wrestle that apology away!" Remus cut him off, "Because dammit, Virgil, I love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore. No more self-hate and no more doubting yourself." 

"Puppy," Virgil said and finally took back some control, guiding Remus back and having him sit down, "I can't promise I'll be able to stop that completely, but if you can stand a little bit of it, I wouldn't mind making that collab a date." 

"Really!?" Remus grinned making Virgil's eyeshadow turn purple, "Can we paint too? And watch scary movies? And make out? And then try and woo each other with some dark prose until one of us caves and asks the other to be his boyfriend? And then f—" 

"Yeah," Virgil cut him off and pressed a finger to Remus' lips, "Except for the part about caving. Will you–I mean, only if you want to, would you–and it’s cool if you say ‘no’ since things might be a little weird but—”

“Band-aid, Emoraptor!” Remus cut him off, like he used to do back in the day when Virgil started down one of his nervous tangents.

“Maybe be my boyfriend now?" Virgil said quickly and winced.

"Yes!" Remus cheered and dragged Virgil into a hug, tumbling on the sheets, "Loom over me like a cypress tree and stay with me until I taste death for a night." 

"Stay here and cuddle until we pass out like touch starved gremlins? Only if you visit me in the abyss until this world calls," Virge mused and wrapped his arms around the duke, curling around him protectively. 

"And then the next," Remus hummed softly and kissed his hand, “But you’re always in my dreams!” Virgil buried his face in Remus’ neck and smiled against his skin. Who would have thought that they would wind up here?

Roman sat on his bed and stared at the collage of pictures he had on the wall. In the very center was an old drawing of him and Remus in front of a castle. He sighed wistfully and stared at it, admiring Remus' work. He hoped that sneaking into Virgil's room was worth it—he wanted Remus to be happy even if he couldn't provide that joy. Maybe one day he’d be able to, but until then, he hoped he got his best friend and brother together to make some amends if not more.

[unsymp-sides-content]

I'm pretty sure you're taking fic prompts? So.. if you're up for it, could I have a fic with Prinxiety and U!Janus and Patton?

Like.. Janus and Patton say some shit to Roman and Roman goes ":'(" and Virgil goes ">:[ bitch"

Pretty sure none of this makes sense, but.. :D

This really ended up taking me forever, huh? Thank you so much for being patient. This one got away from me a little, hut I hope you like it.

Characters: Everyone except Logan, though Remus is only mentioned

Words: 1634

For as long as he'd had a brother, he'd been scared of him. If anyone ever asked him why this was so, he wasn't sure he'd actually be able to answer. Sure, Remus was blunt and loud and loved to lash out or interpret their words in the most disturbing way possible, but he'd never done any of them serious or lasting harm. At most, the effects of his attacks lasted a few hours before they vanished completely. Not to mention, some of his ideas were actually rather good.

But no one ever asked him why and so he kept being scared.

For as long as he'd had a brother, he'd been scared of being like him. If anyone ever asked him why this was so, he'd have two answers. The first, which he would give to them, would talk about all the things Remus had done wrong and how evil he was. The second was far simpler. He was scared to be like his brother because no one loved his brother and Roman didn't want to be unloved. That answer however, he would never say out loud to the others.

Nor would he ever admit how he was worried it had already happened.

Patton, of course, had been the one who'd started it. After the split, he'd tell Roman over and over about how terrible Remus was and how he had to do everything in his power not to be like him. 

Roman had been so young then, not to mention confused and terrified, and Patton had seemed so confident that any potential arguments he'd had died almost immediately and he nodded. As the years went on, Patton had never relented or showed any signs of changing his mind and so Roman kept pushing down his doubts and fears. After all, he was cared about and listened to here. Most of the time, at least.

And then Virgil came along and everyone seemed to hate him at first so of course, Roman went along with them. After all, Thomas had said that he wanted his Anxiety gone and Roman's job was to make Thomas happy.

Except suddenly, that wasn't what Thomas wanted. Suddenly everyone was fine with Virgil. Even Patton, though Roman could sense the anger beneath those patronizing and sickly sweet smiles he always always gave the side.

And now Roman was the one in the wrong even though he'd only been trying to do what everyone else wanted. And so he apologized and Virgil seemed to accept it and it seemed like things would be okay. Like maybe Patton wouldn't be quite as rigid about his rules anymore and maybe Roman wouldn't have to be quite as scared. And so he allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, things would start to get better now. 

He and Virgil started to spend more time together, getting closer with each other. For all of their arguing, they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Roman was good at distracting Virgil from his thoughts and making him feel safe. And Roman liked the way Virgil brought a different perspective to the things he loved and created, even if he didn't always agree with him. 

While Roman couldn't pinpoint when exactly he'd fallen in love with the other side, the realization that he had hardly came as a surprise. He'd been ecstatic when he'd found out that Virgil felt the same way. And almost as happy when Patton didn't seem to have any problems with it. Not outwardly, at least. He started being just a little sharper with Roman, just a little more critical of everything he made, and a little less forgiving of his mistakes. And just like that, any hope Roman had had for things getting better faded.

But it was fine. Roman had learned to deal with Patton's comments and passive aggressiveness years ago. All this meant was that he would have to start working that much harder. And that was fine, even if he was already exhausted, even if he already spent most of his time trying to come up with new ideas and further Thomas's career. It was fine. He was willing to do this for Virgil.

And so he started pushing himself more and ignoring Virgil's concern whenever he brought up how hard Roman was working. And for a while, things were good and Roman, despite how tired he was, was happy. 

And then Janus had showed up.

Roman wanted nothing more than to believe the deceitful side cared about him, to believe the compliments he gave him. But he could never quite tell. He couldn't keep up with the other side. Couldn't tell when he was lying and when he was being honest. Or when he was just trying to manipulate Roman for his own purposes and when he genuinely wanted to help him. If he ever did. 

And Patton kept telling Roman not to trust him until suddenly trusting him was fine and Roman was the bad guy for not already doing so. As if Patton himself had been any kinder to Janus before that moment. As if Patton hadn't been the one who'd been warning Roman about the "others" for as long as he could remember. As if Patton wasn't the reason he'd been acting this way in the first place, terrified of messing up and making his family hate him.

He'd wanted to point out all of these things, to scream at Patton but he had been so tired. And so he'd simply sunk down to his room, falling onto his bed. He'd stayed there for the next few days, refusing to come out or let anyone in, including Virgil. 

By the time he did agree to come out, the anger and frustration had started to fade, replacing themself with a mixture of sadness and resignation. He wasn't sure which he preferred.

Patton and Janus had apparently gotten even closer during his absence and Roman decided it would simply be best for him to avoid the both of them. That plan worked for a solid three hours. And then Patton called them all to dinner, insisting they eat together like a family. 

Roman had been too tired to argue, though he couldn't help noticing, with a hint of jealousy, that Logan had apparently managed to find an excuse not to join them. Dinner was almost painful to get through. Roman was silent the entire time as was Virgil, though he threw his boyfriend a concerned glance every few seconds. Patton kept up a steady stream of chatter and Janus joined in, making the occasional comment.

Roman was looking down at his plate, wondering how much longer he should wait to ask to excuse himself, when Patton turned to him. "What about you, Roro? You've been awfully quiet all night."

"Yes," Janus turned to him as well, lips curling in a cold smile. "I wasn't aware you could go this long without injecting yourself into a conversation."

Roman laughed at that, the sound sharp and bitter and surprising even him. "Really? You're surprised I'm being quiet? Why wouldn't I be when both of you seem to fucking hate me? And you've apparently convinced Thomas he should too."

Patton frowned at him disapprovingly. "Now, Ro, none of that would have happened if you hadn't acted the way you did. Really, this is on you, kiddo. You need to start doing better-"

"Shut up!" Virgil shot to his feet, knocking over his chair and glared at Patton. "Are you fucking kidding me? After everything the two of you have pulled, you're really going to act like this is Roman's fault? You've both fucked up just as much as, if not more than, he has but you think he's the problem? Seriously?"

Virgil didn't wait for either of them to respond, grabbing Roman's hand and pulling him down to his room. Roman made no move to pull away or stop him and once they were there, Virgil turned to look at his boyfriend, barely holding back his concern. "Are you okay?"

Roman was silent for a few seconds and when he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and tired. "I- I've always done everything he asked. Everything. Because I was scared that if I didn't, he'd start to hate me. That- that Thomas would start to hate me. And if Thomas- if Thomas hated me, how was I supposed to keep him safe or- or give him ideas, I-" Roman's voice broke and he blinked away tears.

Virgil gently pulled him over to the bed and sat them both down, one arm wrapping around Roman to pull him close. He waited for Roman to keep going and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft it was barely audible. "But I guess it doesn't matter what I did. Because Thomas hates me anyway."

"Roman, no, that isn't true. He- he doesn't hate you. He couldn't."

Roman smiled sadly. "Of course he does. You saw how he reacted and he's barely spoken to me since then. He has to hate me."

Virgil shook his head. "He doesn't, Ro. He still loves you just like I do, I promise." Roman started to argue again but Virgil simply pulled him closer and kept repeating those words, over and over until finally, Roman started to relax. 

It didn't take much longer for his breathing to start to slow, the argument from earlier and the constant work he was doing already bringing him to the point of exhaustion, and a few minutes later, he was asleep. Virgil carefully shifted them into a more comfortable position before laying down next to Roman and putting an arm around him. Whatever else happened with Patton and Janus, Virgil had no intention of leaving Roman alone, no matter what.

[burberryfaerie]

If Tonks had a younger sibling Pt 4 :

Pairings : Cedric diggory x gryffindor!reader

Warnings : Angst, fluff, character death, torture, crying, swearing, a war basically, possible spelling mistakes

A/N : In case if you're asking, yes i was crying during writing this.

Tags: @loveitsonlyforthebrave ❤️

Hermione apparates you to a place called Tottenham Court Road.

“The heck is a cappuccino? Is it better than butterbeer?”

Your ring suddenly rings violently and you can't understand why?

Dolohov and Rowle rudely interrupt your thoughts.

Going to Grimmauld place knowing damn well you're being followed.

Arthur Weasley's patronus reassuring that everyone is okay.

Remus's unlikely visit.

Muggle-borns are targeted by the ministry.

Your father and best friend are targeted.

Dora's pregnant.

You'll have your own niece / nephew.

But he wants to leave her.

“Me and my family went through shit Remus, and I won't let you break my sister's heart.”

Hating Remus with every inch of you.

Because how dare he breaks Dora's heart.

Kreacher's tale.

Regulus died as a good person who lived beneath the shadows of his prejudiced family.

The locket is with umbridge.

well, fuck

You know what's fucker?

Snape is headmaster

“WHAT ABOUT MINNIE?”

“who the heck are the carrows?”

Going to the ministry after drinking polyjuice potion and morphing in your case.

"Magic is might"

Seeing 'Umbitch'

Harry stupefying umbitch.

Escaping the ministry before Yaxley gets hold of you.

Apparating to a mysterious place.

A forest apparently.

Ron's splinched.

Hermione's protection spells.

“How do you have time to learn all this stuff? Last time I checked we go to the same school,”

“Last time I checked you don't study a word.”

Taking turns in wearing the locket since you can't destroy it.

Feeling so cruel once it rests around your neck.

It's a part of voldemort's soul afterall.

Ron leaving three months later.

Crying your eyes out every night because you miss your best friend so much it hurts.

Same thing with Hermione.

“Why haven't you told him Mione?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you love him”

You give her a knowing look, she returns it with the faintest of smiles.

Going to Godric's Hollow.

Looking at the statue of Lily, James amd baby Harry with sadness and awe.

They were too young to die.

Too innocent to die.

You visit their grave.

You smiled because you suddenly felt their presence, two warm souls watching over you.

Bathilda Bagshot.

Fuck that's a snake.

Voldy is here and he was about to murder the three of you right before you apparated.

Fast forward when Ron returns.

You're so. bloody mad at him but can't help it and pull him into a hug.

“You're such an idiot, Ronald Billius Weasley.”

Hermione's so mad too but you know damn well she still loves him.

Ron and Harry telling the events of last night, first horcrux is destroyed, wohoo.

Visiting Xenophilious Lovegood.

The deathly hallows and the tale of the three brothers.

Luna's painting of you, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and her.

“She's so precious.” you think.

Xenophilious's betrayal.

Hermione wiping the fuck outta his memories.

fast forward a couple of days later.

listening to potterwatch. the norm.

lee jordan's voice

“Let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network  and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.”

Feeling the worst heartache you've ever felt.

feeling as if every muscle, every cell in your body stopped functioning.

“No”

he can't die.

he was always okay. he can't just die.

he's expecting a grandchild. he can't just go.

The trio rushing to hug you.

Harry not able to meet your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” Hermione sobs into your neck.

You don't cry.

You can't cry.

You just sit there, feeling emptiness.

You suddenly get up, shoving everything in your way.

Ron holding you back.

"it's okay, I'm here” he reassures you.

You letting out a heart-wrenching scream that came out from god knows where.

Thank god Hermione has protection spells.

The trio tuck you into bed, making sure you were asleep.

You slept almost instantly, dreaming of your father who speaks to you.

“I'm always here, watching over you. Don't give up sweetheart, fight for your mom, dora, Remus and Cedric.”

“How'd you know about Cedric? ”

“I knew all along” he smiled

Waking up feeling slightly better the next day.

Fast forward when the snatches caught you.

Taken to Malfoy Manor

Bellatrix torturing you and craving "traitor" on your arm.

She also tries to slit your throat.

“You know? I want to murder you so badly, so you'd end up like your mudblood father, but I'll torture you, unril you beg for mercy.”

Literally screaming throughout the whole process.

“I know about Diggory, he's quite of a traitor, but his blood is pure, he won't want a filthy half-blood traitor like you with him.”

“SHUT UP, YOU DON'T KNOW HIM, SHUT U—”

being cut of with her dagger cutting your skin.

she moves on to Hermione next while you watch helplessly.

Dobby, Harry and Ron save you two.

Apparating to shell cottage.

You spot a small, weak figure in the distance.

You try reaching out for it, but you're too weak.

You loose consciousness in Ron's arms.

Next thing you knew you were in a room, Fleur watching over you.

Learning that Dobby's lost his life.

Feeling so weak.

Remus visits.

Little Teddy is born!!!

Can't help but feel so happy and hugging Remus, forgetting about all the drama.

Harry's Teddy's godfather.

yay

Gringotts

You hide under Harry's cloak.

You get caught.

Robbing Bellatrix's vault.

Getting the horcrux and giving griphook the sword.

Aaaaaand Griphook betrays you.

Escaping on a dragon.

Basically having to head to hogwarts.

To get the horcrux.

Hogsmeade at Abeforth Dumbledore.

Ariana Dumbledore's portrait.

NEVILLLEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Him looking terrible yet dashing at the same time.

From your conversation, you concluded that the carrows and Snape are absolute assholes.

Reuniting with all your friends!

Harry goes to Ravenclaw tower with Luna.

The order is here .

Cedric spots you.

He literally just picks you up and kisses you.

infront of everyone basically.

including the adults.

feeling sorta awkward but you don't care.

“YOU ESCAPED GRINGOTTS ON A DRAGON?!! DAMN IT LOVE HOW CRAZY CAN YOU GET?!!! ”

Harry interrupts your adorable moment.

Voldemort wants Harry.

“Potter's right here! someone grab him”

yeah of course, pugface parkinson.

literally everyone jumping in to defend Harry.

The battle has started.

You seeing Dora and running to hug her.

“MY BRAVE SISTER!” she shouts.

“Once we're outta here, we're spoiling Teddy with every inch of me.”

“I kinda approve though”

Duelling multiple death eaters.

Including Dolohov, Rookwood, Rabstan Lestrange.

Saving Malfoy's arse from the flames in the room of requirement.

Going to the shrieking shack to face Voldemort.

Snape's dead.

He's acting weird all of a sudden.

Voldemort wants Harry to meet him in the forbidden forest.

The chaos has calmed down.

You enter the great hall.

Your eyes roam around the room to find the redheads huddled together, the Diggorys, somewhat crying?

You take a closer look, seeing what they're all mourning.

You shake your head in disbelief.

Remus and Dora?

Your sister?

Your soulmate?

They just had a baby.

You felt Fred and George hug you, Hermione and Ginny hugging eachother.

You kneel down.

Your world is crushing.

They're dead but they look so peaceful.

You hugged Dora.

Ever so tightly.

The last time you'll ever hug her.

You wished you can turn the clock back, to listen to to weird sisters together, to giggle behind the Malfoys back together, to annoy your mother together.

Perhaps you could've been able to save her.

You rest your head on her chest.

Muffled voices of everyone else speaking were in the background.

But you didn't care.

You let out a cry, a small one.

You let out a slightly louder one.

You felt your chest tighten, your stomach churn, you felt your eyes twitch underneath your lids.

You heard Cedric's comforting voice.

“Shhhhhh.. I got you love”

But his words are not comforting you.

You just lay there on Dora's chest.

By that, you knew your hair will never turn pink again.

You don't know how many minutes or hours had passed by.

You heard the familiar snake-like vouce of Lord Voldemort.

“Harry Potter is dead He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

You slightly lift your head.

The great hall was deadly silent.

You were sure he was lying.

You slowly walked up, holding hands with Ron and Hermione, exiting the great hall.

Voldemort and his army stood and your eyes spotted Hagrid.

He was carrying someone.

It was Harry.

Your body can't lift you anymore.

Mconagall let out a terrible scream followed by yours , Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Cedric's then everyone else.

Neville standing up to Voldemort.

He- he killed the snAKE??!!!

You just watchung Neville like a proud mom.

Cahos erupts once more.

Harry's gone?

No like seriously, he's just vanished.

poof

Spotting Cedric taking over three death eaters all at once.

Just being so proud of him.

You duelling Rodolphus Lestrange.

Took over him (as you should)

Moving to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Duelling her with Hermione, Luna and Ginny.

Bitch just aimed a killing curse at Ginny??!

About to make your move but-

“Not my daughter you bitch”

literally internally screaming because MOLLY WEASLEY DID NOT JUST CUSS???

Bellatrix's downfall.

Just felt a bit relaxed.

Voldemort is about to kill Molly but—

FUCK??

HARRY??

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER TURN INTO A GHOST TO KILL VOLDEMORT?!!

Voldemort's downfall.

The man who everyone feared sayimg his name, just, fell down.

dead

Post-battle

You hug your mom so tight , she knew about everything.

You raising Teddy along with your mother and Harry.

You still have nightmares and trauma from the war.

But, Cedric was always there for you.

Not like he was any better, but you two comfort eachother.

Him placing soft, small kisses around your "traitor" scar after telling him about the Malfoy Manor events.

You, Harry, Ron amd Hermione gather at the burrow, just sitting there in comfortable silence, holding eachother.

Three years pass by and Cedric's on one knee, asking you to be his forever.

You frantically saying “Yes” before hugging him.

You were now an auror, just like Dora.

The wedding was so simple.

You had Hermione, Ginny and Luna as your bridesmaids.

Looking at the empty seats made especially for your father, Remus, Dora and Sirius.

Saying "I do" before leaning in and kissing him.

And for the first time in three years, your hair turned pink again.

[bothcreativitybois]

For the angst prompts:

Any Remus ship + 11. “You can’t ignore and just saunter back into my life like nothing happened”

👀

Since you didn't specify a ship I just did general Remus angst. I hope that's okay. :) Wordcount: 909 TWs: Swearing, threats, angst (obviously). Taglist (ask to be added): @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper

Much to people’s surprise, Remus enjoyed his privacy. He enjoyed having a space to be himself without anyone else telling him what to do. That’s what his room was to him. He didn’t even let Janus enter. Whenever he left he was told to act more like this or less like that. He had acted like it didn’t hurt him, he acted so well that even he believed it sometimes. But being told day in and day out that who you are is wrong, well that takes a toll. So he would sit in his room, summoning and creating to his heart's content. Sketching and hanging every picture on his walls. Letting out any words or screams he wanted. Given this you can gather he was more than alarmed when one day upon returning to his sanctuary he was met with a bright blue shirt and rosy cheeks snooping at his drawings. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Remus asked immediately. Out of all the sides Patton hated him the most. And the feeling was more than mutual. Patton turned and Remus saw he was holding a plate of cookies, they looked burnt. “I, uh, I was in the neighbourhood and thought I could bring over some sweet treats.” Patton explained happily and presented the plate of cookies. Remus wasn’t buying it. He wasn’t Janus but even he could tell Patton was hiding something. “Get out of my fucking room.” Remus remarked. He turned away without a second glance. “But… I have cookies.” Patton protested sheepishly. He’d been planning out how he would approach this since everyone decided he would be the one to face Remus first. This isn’t how he was hoping it would go. Remus turned and narrowed in on Patton. He took a cookie from the plate. Patton smiled hopefully. Remus took one bite then spat it back into Patton’s face. “Too sweet.” Remus hissed and turned away again. “Get out.” Remus wasn’t interested in why Patton was here. He just wanted him to leave. Patton began to sink out but stopped. He stood up and puffed out his chest. “No.” Patton announced. Remus turned and glared at Patton. “I came here to talk to you and you will listen to me because that is the polite thing to do.” Remus marched up to Patton and knocked the plate out of Patton’s hands. Cookies went flying around them. “I don’t give a flying fuck about politeness, get out of my room you smiley pompous bitch!” Remus spat. Patton was shaken but he refused to back down. “I just came to talk to you…” Patton tried. Remus’ eyes were alight with rage. “You’ve never come to talk to me before! Now you just break into my fucking room and expect me to listen to whatever shit you want me to?” Remus argued. “I… I thought we were friends?” Patton said through a weak scared smile. Remus laughed angrily. “Friends?!” Remus scoffed as he got closer to Patton again. “I’m friends with everyone…” Patton tried hopefully. Remus trapped Patton between the wall and him. “You’re the one who took away my brother!” Remus shouted. “Actually that was a grou-” Patton began but Remus wasn’t listening. “You’re the reason I’m repressed!” Remus continued. “Well that’s because we don’t want to hurt Thomas’ feelings…” Patton reasoned. “You are his feelings! You’re the reason everyone hates me!” Remus roared. Patton shrank under those words. “You can’t ignore that and saunter back into my life like nothing happened!” Patton felt tears escape his eyes, he looked down. Remus grabbed Patton’s collar and brought him up to face him. “I was warned you might react like this.” Patton laughed sadly. Remus wasn’t laughing back. “Were you warned about what comes next?” Remus cracked the knuckles on his hand not holding up the other side. More tears filled Patton’s eyes as he grew scared. Remus brought back his fist but was stopped by another voice. “That’s enough.” Janus hissed across the room. His hat was covering his eyes. Remus turned to face him, still holding Patton. “But he-” Remus attempted to argue. “He was just leaving.” Janus cut Remus off. Remus let go of Patton to fully turn on Janus. Patton took the opportunity to escape and sunk out. Remus charged at Janus. “You had no right to come into my room and stop me! He’s

taken everything from us!” Remus demanded as grabbed Janus’ lapel. Janus looked up calmly at him. “I know.” Janus replied calmly. Remus’ emotions began to catch up to him as hot tears burned his eyes. Janus revealed his extra arms and brought them around Remus, attempting to hug him. “Get off me!” Remus let go of Janus and tried to push away the arms but he was pulled into the hug anyway. He pushed weakly against Janus’ chest. “Go away! I don’t need you!” He protested again, but Janus didn’t listen. After a few seconds of fighting, Remus relaxed into the hug. “You’re safe.” Janus soothed. “He took everything from us.” Remus sobbed into Janus’ clothed. Janus pulled him closer. “It wasn’t all them. You know that.” Janus said calmly. Remus grasped a handful of Janus cape. “He came into my room…” Remus attempted. Janus stroked his head. “It won’t happen again.” Janus promised. Remus heaved sobs into Janus’ chest until he could barely breathe.

They hated him. So he hated them. That’s just how it goes.

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

The Song of the Sea

I finally got around to writing this. I’m so excited  :DD.  Story was inspired by this post

Remus cringed when the wooden boards creaked softly beneath his bare feet. He really did not want to wake Julian up, but he needed to get out of their room. He managed to reach the window without waking his brother up, he sat on the window frame and jumped the small distance between the window and the ground, his feet landing softly on the floor. 

 He did this a lot, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to be alone. He liked going to the beach and just sitting there, the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea helping him relax.

 That wasn’t his main reason to go tonight. He wanted to figure out a little mystery, something had happened the last time he had gone down to the water’s edge at night. Because for however brief and soft it had been, Remus could have sworn he heard the Song of the Sea.

 He had grown up hearing whispers of it from his bedroom. Remus knew that most who heard it never came back, and those who did come back always told weird stories of what they had seen, but that night was the first time he had heard it so clearly. 

Remus hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t felt anything other than a comfortable calmness settling over him. At one point he had gotten up and gone back home, he hadn’t been to the beach since then and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to hear it again, the song was the most beautiful thing Remus had ever heard, it had been soft and melodic and left him feeling warm and safe. 

He kept walking, trying to keep his steps silent. Remus stuck to the shadows as he sneaked past the other houses in their village. When his feet touched the sand he started running towards the water. He walked into the water until it reached his knees, not caring that his clothes were getting wet.

Remus breathed in the salty air, the familiar feeling of sand and water making him relax. After a moment he walked out of the water and sat down in the wet sand, the dying waves lapping at his feet. He leaned back on his elbows and let his head fall back so that he could see the stars. 

He had just found the Northern star when he heard a melody being hummed. He sat up straight, his eyes scanning the coastline for signs of anyone who could be singing. There was no one there, or at least no one that Remus could see. 

“Hello”. Remus’s voice sounded too loud in the silent night. “Is someone there?”

His mind was already getting foggy. Remus had a fleeting thought that maybe he should be panicking, but he didn’t. He felt safe, even though his mind was getting too slow for comfort. He was vaguely aware that the singing was getting progressively louder. 

“You know your voice is lovely, but I think it’s making me a little tired”, he said trying to bite back a yawn. 

Remus stumbled when he tried to get up, his feet taking him into the water seemingly on their own accord. Again he thought that maybe he should be panicking that maybe coming here was a terrible idea, but all he could think of clearly was to get under water. 

The water reached his stomach when his feet stopped moving. He looked down into the water, it was dark, he could barely see anything other than the reflections of the full moon and the stars. A soft gasp left his lungs when he felt something graze his leg. When he looked down he could see a dark silhouette swimming under the surface. 

He watched the silhouette moving towards him and felt something wrap around his ankle before being yanked down. A startled noise left his lips before Remus felt his head go under, the fog that had taken over his mind leaving at the shock of the cold water. 

The salty water stung in his eyes when he opened them, but he needed to see what had dragged him under. He was met with a pair of grey eyes, high cheekbones, and dark hair. He almost gasped before remembering that he was under water. Remus was starting to feel the burn in his lungs from not being able to breathe, but he couldn’t move.

 “Well, aren’t you a pretty face”, the dark haired stranger said. Remus’s shock must have been obvious on his face because the stranger laughed. 

Whatever shock was written across his face switched to panic when he felt his body trying to take a breath. He tried to swim up to the surface but his limbs were numb. 

A look of confusion crossed the stranger’s face before something seemed to click into place in his mind. He grabbed Remus by the hand and dragged him upward. Remus came out of the water gasping for air, his mind in a state of panic. 

“Gods, I am so sorry. I keep forgetting you humans can’t actually breathe under there. Are you ok?” The stranger sounded worried.

Remus managed to find his footing in the sand. The water wasn’t all that high, if he stood up it would still be at level with his stomach, but he decided he would sit on his knees to be leveled with the stranger. 

“Am I ok?” Remus’s tone was something between sarcastic and disbelieving. “Of course I’m not ok. You just dragged me under really cold water for a long ass time. I can’t breathe under water.” 

“I’m sorry”, the stranger hung his head in shame, his black hair covering half his face. 

Remus only felt a little bad about snapping at him. After all, the stranger had almost drowned him. 

“Wait”- a sudden realization had hit Remus- “were you the one singing that melody earlier?” 

“Yes”, the stranger answered like that was supposed to be obvious, “come on, I thought you humans were supposed to be smart.” 

“I- no. No. You know what? You can’t give me any shit for not deducing it was you singing when you literally almost drowned me less than five minutes ago.” 

The dark haired man flinched at Remus’s tone. “I already apologized for that”, he muttered. 

“Whatever just-”, he sighed and rubbed his hand down his face, salty water falling on his lips, “what’s your name?” 

The stranger looked surprised at the question. “Sirius”, he answered, “what’s yours?” 

“I’m Remus”. 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Remus”, Sirius said smiling at him. 

“I wish I could say the same”- Remus sighed dramatically- “but you did almost drown me.” 

Sirius barked out a laugh, Remus following soon after with his own. “What else was I supposed to do to get your attention”. 

“Why would you want to get my attention?” Remus was confused.

Sirius shrugged before answering. “I thought you were cute.” 

Remus blushed at the compliment. He composed himself before speaking again. “You try to kill all the cute guys you see”.  

“Nah, only the ones that I like”, Sirius said in the most casual tone he could muster. In reality he was very nervous. He had wanted to see this guy again since he had first seen him a few nights ago. 

Remus let himself give Sirius a once over. He noticed a few important things, like the fact that the guy was shirtless and that he didn’t have legs. Instead he had a black tail with flecks of silver scales. 

Remus made a non-committal hum before focusing his gaze back to Sirius’s face. “Guess all the crazy tales aren’t all that crazy”. 

Sirius had been studying Remus as well. He looked to be around his own age, maybe a bit younger. His hair had started to dry already, the salt of the water making it curl over his ears. He had warm amber eyes that reflected the glow of the full moon making them look golden. Sirius decided that he looked even more beautiful from up close. 

“I should get going. It’s getting late and if my father finds out I snuck out again I’m gonna be doing my chores and Julian’s for a month”. Remus was sad that he had to go. He really liked spending time in the water. 

Sirius tried to hide his disappointment at hearing that. “Will you come back soon?” He didn’t want Remus to go, he wanted to spend more time with him. 

“As long as you don’t almost drown me again.” Remus sounded more amused than annoyed. 

“I would never. I don’t think I could live without being able to look at your pretty face”. 

Remus rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his cheeks pink. “Don’t be such a flirt”. 

Sirius laughed. Remus had already started swimming back to the shore, but he hadn’t turned away yet, eyes still focused on Sirius. 

“See you tomorrow, hopefully”, Remus said, waving at Sirius, before turning away to swim to the coast. 

“Good bye”. Sirius really hoped he would see him again. He wanted to see him blush again and make him laugh. 

Remus reached the shore and looked back to where Sirius was. He waved at him, and watched Sirius wave back before heading back home. 

Laying down on his bed, staring up at the blank ceiling, Remus smiled. Even though Sirius had almost drowned him, he was fun to be around. God knows Remus needed more friends, even if they came in the form of a siren that he would probably only see during his midnight expeditions. 

At some point Remus had started to drift off into sleep, and if he dreamt of silver eyes and crystal waters, no one was the wiser.  

[whenisitenoughtrees]

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind. 

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly. 

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?” 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it. 

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina 

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

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[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]