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oatmealdaydreams · 1 year ago

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Violets & Shy Gladioli

I was going to write this a long while ago, but I forgot. Whoops. So yeah, here's the nerdy!Roman & skater!Virgil oneshot thingy. It's more of a crackfic/drabble. Not something very serious but still fun to write!

EDIT: whoops, not a drabble. It got plot now. This turned into something else, my bad. Hurt/comfort alert. If y'all want a part two or something, just put in an ask.

{@goldnskyart hey, hey you. Yes, you. I did a thing. I hope you like the thing.}

Prompt: here (from @goldnskyart)

Pairings: romantic Prinxiety, platonic Dukeceit, Creativitwins

Trigger/Content Warning: borderline stalking? (kind of??), sexual commentary, very brief mention of vague past trauma, bullying, panic attack, slur (twice very briefly; censored at my own discretion), brief dissociation, murder threats (towards the bullies)

Description: Virgil is a skater at the local skatepark. He notices he has a lil nerd watching him.

Extra: Human AU, Highschool AU; set in goldnskyart's Skateboards & Jam AU; idk romance works, so it'll be kind of bad. I've never written a kiss scene before, so prepare for sappy cringe.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[Read under the cut]

Roman is so unbelievably gay, like holy sh*t. Holy sh*t. He is so helpless.

Why must boys be so attractive?

At least, that's the reason he settles on as he watches a specific boy from behind a tree. It's at the local skatepark, where all the shakers and troublemakers tend to hang out. There are benches and a small playground nearby. The whole place is surrounded by oak trees and flowers. It almost feels like you're in another world there, but the sound of cars from the nearby road kind of ruins that.

It's very beautiful, oh indeed it is, and Roman is certain that the boy on his mind just makes it even prettier. Cause this skater boy is very pretty, and funny and kind- and oh, does Roman have it bad.

So yeah, there he is, watching the boy of his dreams from behind a tree near the skatepark.

No, it's not stalking- okay, it's close, but he promises that's not what it is. He's just nervous, okay? He's even tried talking to him at school, but it always ends with unintentional bickering and insulting jabs at each other. He hates how his nerves mess with his ability to function around boys. That, and the gay panic every time he sees him.

Virgil Cleome, a perfect array of purple jackets and snide smirks.

A skilled skater, by highschool standards. A baseball hat put on backwards in a cool fashion, a purple-patched jacket always on his shoulders, the one person who can wear eyeshadow under his eyes and make Roman fluster just from that. His eyes- oh, his eyes- are a heterochromic beauty. One dark green, the other something close to hazel or purple. Roman doesn't know if you could have a purple iris, but Virgil's is damn well close enough.

God, when he concentrates on something? When he's focused? Yeah, Roman could just die at that cute face he makes. The classic tongue-slightly-stuck-out. He also does this thing where he scrunches his nose up. Like, when he doesn't like something or when he's confused in a mocking kind of way. It's just- ugh. How dare he be so f*cking attractive and funny. And have you heard his laugh? Roman heard it once in passing, and he couldn't function for almost five gay minutes because of it. Like, holy hell. Jesus.

Like I said, Roman is helpless.

He feels like Eliza when he's around Virgil, and he wants him to be his Alexander.

So yeah. He's got it bad. He is entirely hopeless.

And that's why he hides behind a tree, watching his seemingly unrequited love have fun at the skatepark.

It's not like he ever notices, right?

...right?

~~~

Virgil definitely notices every time he's being watched by the cute nerd, too shy to actually approach him.

The fact that it's Roman kind of confuses him, since almost all their interactions are borderline hostile on a good day. At least, that's how it feels. Perhaps it's a rivalry, of sorts. Just bickering, insults, and weird nicknames that could pass off as pet names if you were an innocent bystander. But they aren't pet names, okay? Of course they f*cking aren't. Why would they be?

So then, why does Roman watch him shyly from a tree? He just... stares. It's borderline creepy, but that's not the issue. The issue is the fact that Virgil doesn't mind it. That he might like being watched by Roman- not in that way, don't make it weird- and likes his attention on him.

Also, how can Roman ever be so... nervous? Is that the right word?

Normally, when in school, he's always this pompous princely nerd with confidence pouring out of him. He knows what he's talking about. He's not very studious, not exactly, but he knows practically everything about theatre and its history. He knows a lot about history in general. And he's pretty great at the Creative Writing class they're both in.

His glasses are pretty cute, too. His smart little face, the red streak in his hair. The faintest of freckles on his cheeks and nose. The small moles on his neck. He's just so adorable-

Ack. Just f*cking- ugh. Why must Roman be so adorable yet so frustrating all at once?

Virgil is too gay for this sh*t. F*ck this. F*cking hell. Just- okay. He needs to chill out.

Just focus on skating. Ignore the cute little prince who keeps watching you. Just- jesus. Yeah, cause that's f*cking easy.

Virgil tries, he really does, but his mind keeps drifting to red bowties and clever comebacks. His skating buddies already know about his crush- not a crush, he tells them, he just thinks he's neat- and are frankly very tired of the obvious pining.

Hey, it's not pining- okay. Just- ya know what? F*ck you. Shut up.

Roman f*cking Solana.

Jesus.

It doesn't help that one of his friends, a fellow skater, is Roman's twin brother. So, he already sees Roman enough at school, but he also sees him whenever he hangs out with Remus at their house. They don't stay at the house for long, usually, and just go to the skatepark and meet up with Janus.

Yeah, being friends with Remus is always a new adventure. That also means the ungodly amount of innuendos and teasing just gets worse. Of course it f*cking does, it's Remus. As soon as he first heard about Virgil liking Roman in any romantic capacity, he would not leave the poor spiderling alone. That is, unless it got too close to a boundary line. Remus may have poor impulse control, but he'd never cross a boundary with his friends or family. He's not a monster.

He's a self-proclaimed freak, but not a monster.

Which brings them all to right now, a teasing Remus at the ready as Virgil messes up the same trick for the fifth time in a row.

"Dude, what's with you lately? You usually don't mess up that badly," an unnamed skater comments as Virgil gives up and sits down at a nearby bench.

Virgil rolls his eyes at the unnamed skater. Not worth his time. It's not like they're a part of his inner circle, anyway.

"He can't help it, little Virgey's distracted," Remus teases, wiggling his eyebrow.

"Shut up, Remus," Virgil grumbles.

Remus snickers at him.

"Aww, but it's so fun f*cking with you."

Virgil rolls his eyes again, this time at Remus.

"Then again, I know who you'd really like to f*ck with. Well, more like who you'd like to f*ck."

Virgil chokes on air for a moment, his face now burning red. The unnamed skater turns bright pink in second-hand embarrassment and shuffles away, deciding now is a good time to go back to skating. Virgil glares at Remus in his own embarrassment as the green-coded dumbass cackles at him.

"Remus," he scorns, voice cracking at the implication.

"Listen, you're so easy. I just- ha! You're so red!"

Virgil hides his face in his hands, groaning loudly in annoyance.

Where is Janus when you need him? God, the one time he gets too sick to come and skate with us. God f*cking damnit. F*cking bastard.

Janus is usually the one who Remus would listen to. Those two had been through thick and thin, in a lot more ways than Virgil had been with them. There are just some things, some very bad things, that unite people together in such a close bond. Going through trauma together is... it's something they hope Virgil will never experience. It's something that brought those two so close together, but both of them still wish it hadn't happened. The world tends to be a truly cruel place to those who just want to be.

Anyway, after a while of Remus tormenting Virgil, they go back to skating. Remus tends to do more dangerous stunts as if they were at a beginner level. Virgil sticks with what he knows, what he can't mess up, being what his friends call 'stupidly safe' and 'boring'.

Virgil still thinks back to Roman, who is currently hiding behind his signature tree. What he'd never admit is how Roman's attention on him makes his heart beat out of his chest. How his voice makes his heart flutter like a bunch of dumb little moths. How he makes him laugh and let himself exist. How this damned nerd makes him... just smile. He doesn't just smile for anyone. The stupid f*cking cherry-red bowtie. The spotlights in his eyes.

He and Remus may be twins, but they don't exactly look like twins. And that makes it so much easier to feel so cheesy about him. He could never feel cheesy, in any romantic capacity, about Remus or Janus. They're more like family than anything. Oh, but Roman...

God. He wanted to be the Jack to Roman's Sally.

Like I said, he feels so f*cking cheesy about Roman.

After a while of f*cking with each other like they always do, Remus decides to abruptly leave. Virgil asks where the f*ck does he think he's running off to, only to get a one-word answer. That reasonably excuses him.

"Janny!" Remus shouted as he skated away on the sidewalk in the park, heading towards the neighborhood.

Virgil shakes his head fondly. Janus doesn't even need to text or call Remus for the octopus-loving weirdo to know he needs him. A friend instinct, Virgil supposes. Part of their uniquely close platonic bond. Some weird ass sh*t.

Not wanting to skate without one of his friends, cause that just feels weird, Virgil decides to retire early for the day. He goes back to the bench he sat on earlier, setting his board wheels-up by his feet. Finally resting there for a moment, sighing as his back relaxes. He glances over at where Roman probably still is, but-

But he's... not there?

Maybe he had to leave for some reason? Like, his mom called him or something. That happens. Right? Yeah. It's probably fine.

I wish he was still here, though.

Virgil stops himself before he can pout.

Stop, stop it. You're not even friends. This shouldn't f*cking bother you. He's fine.

Why does it bother him?

It just feels wrong. Odd. He's just normally still there, and...

And he's grown attached.

Ah, f*ck me.

~~~

Roman is in theatre. He's almost always the star of the show, the central sun in a musical. When he's on stage, he truly becomes a prince. Whatever his role is, he is. It's a nice sight to see.

So yeah, he's in the Drama club, of course. What thespian wouldn't be? And they always meet on Tuesdays after school. So, as far as Virgil knows, Roman is still at school afterhours on Tuesdays. So is Remus, but that's only because their mom makes them walk home together.

Today is no different.

Virgil somehow managed to get an after school detention. He'd been too 'disruptive' during class (he was having a panic attack, how the f*ck-), and now has to stay in the library until all the clubs got out. Great. Just f*cking great. Another reason why he hates his dumb math teacher. Because of course, of course being emotionally distressed is less important than f*cking algebra.

Anyway.

So, there's very few people he knows who have after school activities. I mean, he's not the only one ever who gets detention, but apparently today is an exception because he's the only student there that isn't a library tech. He simply listens to music with his headphones on, doing homework so he doesn't have to deal with it later. He has one headphone out, but only so the librarians can't yell at him for it. They usually don't care, but detention students are some sort of disease or something because they eye him like a pack of f*cking vultures. To be fair, Virgil isn't ever really in there unless he has detention. And, you know, your classic stereotypes and narrow-minded assumptions you see from people who need a large heap of therapy. So yeah, not a great time.

Being watched by the librarians isn't helping Virgil focus, and he's two seconds from f*cking decking one of them. The library tech doesn't seem to care. They're just shelving books and minding their own damn business. Virgil likes the tech better.

Aside from the dumbass Karen librarians, there's some sort of commotion coming from the hallway. It could be the theatre kids; the library is close by the Theater. It's all shouty and sh*t, loud and all that. The future scholars in dramatics, otherwise known as actors, tend to always be loud and mildly disruptive. It's not anything new.

Virgil tries to scribble the last of a science formula down, wanting nothing more than the school day to be over. It's not over until he gets to leave. And he can't f*cking leave yet. Stupid b*tch of a teacher. Just- ugh. Math sucks.

Virgil startles when he hears something that sounds like a slap. He sharply turns his head to the doors, which are left open until the clubs are over.

What the f*ck.

He knows his school has bullies. In fact, he's had his fair share of dunderheads picking on him for sh*t he can't control. But most of the students are gone, and only ones who aren't are the theatre or art club kids. And the art room is all the way at the other end of the school. So, the only kids who'd be here... would be the theatre kids... but he's never known any of them to- well, he's seen more gay-ass motherf*ckers in there than he can count, and they sure as hell aren't ones to be assholes unless someone actually deserves it. Or to be funny, in a sassy and dramatic way. Which is the reason why Virgil doesn't mind them. They don't really bother anyone.

Another suspiciously violent sound and a cry of pain, and Virgil flinches. He stops his work. He can't focus with all that noise, and the fact that someone could be getting hurt right now.

"Stop being so dramatic. God, you'd think he'd learn by now?" one voice complains.

"I know, right? He's so annoying! You wouldn't be in this situation if you kept your mouth shut," a second one adds.

A poorly-concealed whimper.

"Okay, that's it. We're being nice, you know we are. But I am two seconds from making your day a whole lot worse," a third one threatens.

Virgil feels stuck in his seat. God, he wants to get up and march over there, and just- what poor kid are they tormenting? It sounds like there's three of them- bullies always travel in groups- and their victim sounds so hurt.

He hears frantic mumbling, and he wishes he isn't so anxious because he'd like to help now, thank you. The worrying thing is he recognizes the first voice. It's familiar, but also not, and that's not a good sign. It's familiar in a bad way, in a 'oh god please not be them' kind of way.

"You were just saying how we shouldn't do what exactly? Hmm? Aww, why so quiet now?" the second one continues.

"I think he's scared, Jackson," says the third one.

"Oh Kayla, I think so, too."

The second one, Jackson, snickers at whoever the victim is. More mumbling. Something happens, and the first one seems to speak again, but it's muffled. The third one, Kayla, laughs at whatever the victim's reaction is.

Jesus, what's f*cking wrong with them? I need to get up and get someone. What do I do, what do I do? I don't know what to do.

Virgil still feels frozen to his seat. He hates how he doesn't know. How he can't f*cking move. Why must his own anxiety paralyze him like this? He's not even the one getting bullied. It just reminds him... of someone. It's getting kinda triggering at this point, even though he can't pinpoint who it reminds him of. He just feels so f*cking stuck.

Someone shushes Jackson and Kayla. Probably the first voice, who's probably the leader of their cruel trio.

"Hush now, stop being a baby. You asked for this when you got in my way, you stupid attention wh*re," the first one lows their voices in such a cold, cynical way.

Virgil loses it when he hears that.

Omg, omg, omg. What the f*ck. They called them a f*cking slur.

He feels so mortified for whoever their victim is.

Okay, that's it. F*ck this, f*ck my stupid anxiety. That's not okay. Those f*cking b*tches.

Virgil blindly bolts to his feet, leaving his headphones and everything behind on the table. He ignores the librarians' steely eyes and quiet shouts for him to sit down. He runs out the f*cking library, nothing but pure adrenaline fueling him. It's all of a blur of him running over there, but luckily- or unluckily, cause how are no adults handling this- the commotion isn't that far. In fact, it's near the Theater. In the hallway in-between that separates it from the library. Where anyone could see.

Out in the open and no one's helping, dear f*cking god.

And Virgil isn't exactly quiet as he runs over. So, the bullies hear the footsteps rapidly approaching them. One of them mutters something like hey, maybe we should not get our asses caught, and what sounds like three pairs of footsteps scatter around. When Virgil gets there, all he sees is a heap of white and red crouched on the ground. They look shaky and small, so damn small, and their bowtie looks a little f*cked up.

Wait, bowtie? Red bowtie. Wait- omg. Oh sh*t.

That's Princey, the cute little nerd, looking small and terrified on the hallway floor. His glasses are the only thing that don't look damaged. His clothes look scuffed up. Tears are pouring down his face, from eyes that look too dazed. A hand mark on his cheek-

Those little assholes. I'm going to f*cking kill them. I'm going to sink Remus on them, and he's going to kill them. I-

Wait... if Roman is here, then...

Where is Remus?

Virgil shoves his thoughts away as he carefully approaches the poor little thing, crouching down to his eye level. He looks distant, almost like he's somewhere else. Maybe he is. Maybe he's mentally somewhere away from all that just happened. Somewhere that feels safer.

When Virgil puts a soft touch to Roman's shoulder, however, he flinches hard. He startles, turning sharply to face Virgil. His eyes are now very aware of where he is, frantic and panicked.

Oh, Princey...

Virgil takes his hand away, going slowly so Roman can see his movements. The poor nerd is panting like a cornered animal. Scared, he looks so scared.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe now, Princey. It's just me, Virgil. You know me, yeah?"

He keeps his voice low and soft, easing just a little bit of the panic out of the poor thing's eyes.

That's better.

He still looks a little scared, though. It takes him a moment, but then recognition lights up in his eyes. He whimpers.

"Oh sweetheart, it's okay. I'm right here. You're safe now."

Virgil carefully cups the nerd's non-hurt cheek, thumbing away unnoticed tears. Princey flinches as soon as he feels touch- it's less, but still- but calms down as he realizes it's just Virgil.

Virgil would never hurt him. Virgil is safe. Virgil is good.

They may tease each other, but it's never to go as far as intentionally hurting someone.

Roman remains tense, but slowly melts as Virgil moves his other hand to card through his hair. He lets out an undignified whine, leaning into the touch.

"There, I've got you."

Roman leans against Virgil, resting his unhurt half on his shoulder. His face squished against him, letting himself relax a little more. Virgil moves his hand from his face, wrapping his arm around the poor prince. He holds him now, keeping close and cuddled in his lap. Roman's head falls until it rests against Virgil's chest. He can hear his heart beating. It sounds a lot calmer than his own. A hand still cared through his hair.

"You need to breathe, sweetheart. C'mon, breathe with me, okay?"

Roman slightly nods. He listens to Virgil's heart, trying to match his breathing to it. His lungs stutter a few times, but the constant stream of comfort and reassurance helps. After a while of finally breathing, he just collapses into a limp lump of exhaustion into Virgil's arms. He doesn't tremble or shake anymore- hardly at all- and instead focuses on the feel of warmth that his rival-friend-person gives. He doesn't know how to categorize them quite yet, but it seems pretty friendly right now.

Which makes him wonder why they aren't usually friendly like this. Maybe Virgil's just being kind. Maybe it's pity. At this moment though, he doesn't find the energy to care. He basks in the safe, safe, safe person holding him.

"There you go. Good job, sweetheart. You're okay. I've got you, I promise."

They just breathe together for a moment. Just co-exist and the world feels frozen, halted. Like nothing could get them, no harm could come their way, no evil could touch them. Roman's eyes droop, very much ready to fall asleep like this. He's all relaxed and calm now. He's okay. He's safe in Virgil's arms. His glasses screw up a bit as he somehow melts further into the purple-themed skater. He hears a soft chuckle from somewhere.

"You relaxed, Princey? All nice and cozy?"

"Mhm."

"Good, that's good. As long as you feel safe, sweetheart."

Had Roman been more awake than he is, he would've blushed at the pet name. But he isn't, so it flies completely over his head. He feels warm and floaty, and just all light. He likes this feeling. He doesn't want it to go away. Secure in safe arms. Safe, safe, safe.

A text beeps off somewhere. Roman idly wonders if his phone. He gets answered, unfortunately, as he feels Virgil move slightly against him. Probably pulling something out of his pocket. By the sound of it, it's his phone. Another text beeps. Sounds of typing. Virgil sighs, something like relief, and types more. Sends whatever he types to whoever texted him. Another text comes in. Virgil makes an idle hm noise. He puts his phone away.

He holds onto Roman tighter, a protective huff slips out. He pauses for a moment, glancing down at Princey.

"You comfortable like this, Princey? Not hurt anywhere, are you? Besides the, uh, the face."

Roman hums.

"Jus' the face," he provides.

The mark on his face still slightly burns, but it's manageable. Tolerable. Not hurt that much anymore.

"'Kay, good."

He readjusts to hold him tight again. Roman finally closes his eyes, nearly passing out from the sh*t that just happened. It doesn't process in his gay mind that he's practically sleeping against his crush. Yeah, a little too exhausted for the thought to even cross his mind.

"Hey, sweetheart. Remus is on his way, okay?"

"Mm, Re?"

"Yeah, Re. Your bro's on his way to help."

"'m fine, though."

"Princey."

"Mm, really. Safe now."

Virgil smiles at that, warmth spreading in his chest. And not from the fact that he has a body against him.

"Good that you're safe. But you went through something scary. We gotta talk about it."

Roman groans sleepily.

"If it makes you too uncomfortable, we won't. But we need to know who did the sh*t, so they can get their asses whooped."

Roman huffs out a laugh at the mention of 'asses whooped'. Not something he thought he'd hear from Virgil, but funny nonetheless.

"Little sleepy head."

"Not little."

"Could've fooled me, all sleepy and small like this. You're just a little puddle."

Roman makes a half-hearted noise of protest, but just drifts off after that. His breathing evens out, and now he's asleep. Virgil's heart melts because he feels safe enough to sleep in my arms, omg.

After a few minutes, he hears a worried shout.

"Roman? Roro?"

Ah yeah, that's Remus. Worried Brother™ mode is activated, isn't it?

"Ro? Vi, where are- oh. Okay, good. Right there. Okay."

Remus spots them on the ground as soon as he turns the corner. He barrels down the hallway to them, muttering about how they're right there, they've got each other, Virgil ain't gonna let anyone hurt him. He nearly crashes into them as he runs and dives to sit by Virgil and his sleeping brother.

"Whoa, hey. Hey, he's okay. I've got him. He's also asleep, so be careful, Rem."

The light chide dies on Virgil's tongue as Remus growls protectively at sight of his hurt twin. Virgil sighs, knowing Remus isn't going to listen to him while Roman is like this. He doesn't blame him. Roman comes first, always.

Remus catches the mark on Roman's face, and his growl intensifies. Virgil stopped carding a hand through the poor nerd's hair a little bit ago, instead just holding him like something precious. That being said, he sees the pure and horribly overwhelming worry in Remus' eyes. And decides to hand over the sleeping prince.

"Rem, here. He's okay now. He's safe and okay. Right here."

Remus takes his brother carefully. The sleepy Roman whines in protest as he feels Virgil let go of him. The emo skater makes a comforting noise and mutters about what he's doing so the other will be calm. Once fully in his arms, Remus hugs the life out of his brother and holds him in his lap. Roman lets out a pleased hum as he drifts back into a comfortable slumber. He nuzzles into his brother, clinging onto his shirt like a little kid. Remus rests his chin on top of his brother's head.

"...who the f*ck messed with him?"

Remus' glare is deadly and cold, but he doesn't look at Virgil. It's not directed towards him, anyway.

Yep, there's the Protective Twin™ mode.

"I don't know. He hasn't said anything yet, looked a little scared to."

Virgil's voice nearly matches Remus' in cold venom. It's low and cruel, and he's going to do horrible things to the people who did this.

Virgil glances at Remus as he kisses his brother's hair softly.

"I told him we need the name of those f*ckers. I technically didn't ask him, but he still seemed... he's just so tired, Rem."

Virgil's voice almost cracks with emotion near the end. Remus grunts in response. His grip on his brother doesn't waver, not even for a millisecond.

"I heard names of two outta three, though."

Remus sharply turns to him, demanding the names with nothing but a look.

"I- I heard it from the library. One of them is, uh, Jackson. The other one is Kayla, I think."

Remus' eyes wide slightly for a second at the mention of Kayla, and it doesn't take basic observation skills to realize that he may know her. Probably not for a good reason. Virgil doesn't ask.

"There were three?"

"I didn't catch the third's name."

"And where were you, then? How could you hear names but not stop this sh*t from happening?"

Remus' voice cracks mid-sentence. Tears prick at his eyes, and he glares at Virgil like it could be his fault. Maybe it is. Maybe if he wasn't a little coward, he could've stopped it. If only he didn't fail at such an important time.

"I- I was in detention, and- uh, and I heard noise and voices, but I froze and I couldn't move-"

Remus' face softens, regret flooding in as his friend stumbles over panicked words.

"Hey, hey. Sorry. I know you wouldn't hurt him."

Virgil simply nods curtly, easing himself out of his own panic.

"I found him, dazed and on the floor. Rem- Remus, he looked so terrified."

I should've got to him. Goddamit, why am I so f*cking stupid? Just- what the f*ck is wrong with me?

Remus bumps Virgil's shoulder lightly, bringing him out of his thoughts. His own tears threaten to spill. He simply sniffles and wills them away. At least, he holds those stupid tears in for as long as he can.

"...I'm gonna beat and kill their asses."

"I'll bring the bat."

The duo lightly chuckles at each other for a moment. They focus back on Roman, who looks so peaceful in his sleep. Peaceful and safe. It's almost surreal, in a way. He was just hurt by some dumbf*cks, and now he looks like nothing's wrong in the world. They almost don't want to wake him up.

He beats them to it though, groaning and slowly opening his eyes. He first notices purple patches across from him. Then the fact he's being hugged into the Aether, hugged by someone strong and... is that green on their weird vest thing? Wait, green...

He sees Remus' signature skull necklace, and everything catches up to him.

Remus is here. Re is here and I am safe. Safe. Virgil's here, too.

He feels soreness creeping in as he wakes up more.

Ugh... goddammit.

He groans in slight pain.

Wait f*ck- Virgil is here. Holy sh*t. Omg, omg-

And then a little bit of gay panic sets in.

Roman feels his face heat up slightly, and he hides it in Remus' chest. Remus, being the ever-loving twin that he is, just snorts at him once he notices him blushing. Virgil raises an eyebrow at him, but Remus just ignores it and snickers.

"Mm, f*ck you, Re," Roman mutters.

"Yeah, he's okay," Remus says.

"Pft- you good, Princey? What's got you hiding?"

Virgil's own tears are long forgotten as he watches Roman groan pathetically, oblivious to the fact he's a little flustered because of him.

"Seriously though, are you okay?" Virgil's voice softens again.

Roman peeks out from his hiding place, nodding.

"Hm. Then why don't we talk about it, if you're okay and all? We still have asses to maim."

The princely nerd huffs, sitting up in his brother's lap. He avoids their gazes as he speaks.

"'s nothing to worry about."

Remus gives him a the f*ck it isn't look.

"Nothing to- Roro, they left a mark on you. They hit you. That's something to worry about."

"Re-"

"He's right, Princey. They shouldn't be messing with you like. No one gets to f*ck with you like that."

A few seconds of tense silence.

"it's not like it's anything new..." he mumbles.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm killing them-"

Roman tugs on Remus as soon as he feels him try to get up, telling him to stay. Remus rolls his eyes affectionately, staying put and keeping a hold on his hurt brother.

"Fine. Later, then."

"Princey, I- what? Have they been hurting you for a while?"

"...I should be able to take it."

"Oh, no- no, sweetheart, that's not what I meant."

Roman blushes lightly at the pet name, but Virgil ignores it.

"Yeah."

"Oh, Princey..."

"Ro, why didn't ya just tell me? Or us? I could've used Ma's hunting knife on them! Perfect practice!"

"She would kill you if you took her knife, dumbass."

"Not if she knew it was to protect you."

Roman rolls his eyes. Virgil is about ready to steal their mom's knife himself because who the f*ck do they think they are?

Then, he remembers something he heard back when he was in the Library.

Wait, didn't they call him a- oh, oh sh*t. I'm gutting them, omg.

"Sweetheart, how long have they... called you things?"

Roman shrinks, knowing exactly what he's asking. He sheepishly shrugs. Remus makes a concerned, confused face.

"What are they calling you? Bro-bro?"

"...'s fine. It's not that bad."

"Not that- Roman," Virgil's voice bleeds with horror and worry.

Roman huffs stubbornly.

"Ro? What are they calling you?"

He stays quiet, still avoiding their gazes. He feels embarrassed about this entire situation. He should be able to handle it fine, shouldn't he? He's smart and charismatic. He's a prince, if theatre is anything to go by. Aren't princes supposed to be strong?

Isn't he supposed to be strong?

"Roman- Princey, can I tell him? If you won't, then can I?"

That nickname is sounding a little too endearing, and Roman is on the verge of giving in just from that. He meets Virgil's eyes, not expecting the utter weight of naked concern on his face. He bites his lip before nodding and hiding his face in Remus' chest again.

"They called him a slur."

Virgil feels ready to cry again as he speaks, and he's not even the one who got hurt.

"They did what?" anger bleeds through Remus' voice.

He holds Roman tighter, if that's even possible at this point. Roman whimpers as the smallest echo of the slur replays in his head.

"I'm killing them, I'm f*cking killing them. I'm burying them ten feet underground, and I'm killing them."

Roman grips Remus' vest as he tries to push the faint memory of the bullies did out of his mind.

"They don't have any f*cking right to-"

"Not new."

Remus stills. He almost pales as he processes his twin's words. Virgil, in fact, does go pale.

"Roro?"

"Oh, God-"

"Ro, bro-bro, they- they f*cking what?"

"I got a role they wanted. I always get a role they want. They don't like it when I get what they want. It's... 's fine. Nothin' new."

"Oh sweetheart, that's not fine. They- they shouldn't be calling you a slur over a cast role."

"Those b*tches-"

"I should be able to handle it. I'm- I'm supposed to be a prince, aren't I? Princes handle things on their own."

Princes are supposed to be strong, he thinks but doesn't say.

"That's... sweetheart, no. No, princes can ask for help if they need it."

"...but I'm supposed to be strong. Mom calls me her prince, and I want to be strong."

"Asking for help is strong, sweetheart. Strong is being scared and hurt, but surviving anyway."

"Ma calls you her prince because you are strong."

"She also calls you a gremlin Dorito because you have a weird obsession with demonic triangles."

"Cipher is f*cking funny-"

"He literally rips teeth from a deer, what the f*ck-"

Virgil spares a snort as the brothers briefly bicker.

"Not the point, Ro. She also calls me her duke because she said I was meant to be different from you. That you and I are both her precious royals."

Roman hums in response.

Virgil shuffles closer, sitting against Remus' arm. There's more silence. Remus is plotting death for those b*tches who hurt his brother. Virgil is probably doing the same, though he keeps glancing at Roman to make sure he's alright. Today was just total sh*t, huh?

"...they called me an attention wh*re."

Roman's voice cracks as he whispers, curling up in Remus' arms and wanting nothing more than today to have never happened. Remus growls protectively, resting his chin on Roman's head again. Virgil takes one of the nerd's hands, squeezing it softly. He squeezes back.

"Logan's dad knows the principle," Virgil says, rubbing circles on the nerd's knuckles. "Patton told me. We could f*cking get them."

Remus nods sharply as Roman seems to drift off somewhere.

They three stay there, in the empty hallway, as clubs end and other students decide to avoid the murderous looks on Remus' and Virgil's faces.

~~~

It's not even two days later when Jackson, Kayla, and Jackass Number 3 get expelled from school.

Not only does Logan's dad know the principle, but he also seems to be old friends to the district's Superintendent as well. Apparently, his dad knows some friends in high places. Good thing Virgil is intent on remaining on Logan's good side.

Roman and Virgil walk to school together, mainly because Janus is feeling better and Remus wanted to go f*ck some fences up with him. Plus, Roman's mom is even more insistent on him having a walking buddy now that she knows he'd been bullied. As overprotective as she can be, his mom cares a whole lot more about her sons than anything else.

She sneaked a wink at Roman when Virgil came over to walk with him, since his brother couldn't take him anyways. Remus must've tattled on his gay ass because now his mom kept giving this look whenever Virgil visited.

So yes, now he walks with his crush to school. As Remus is being a little criminal and doing God knows what, Roman is fighting a gay panic. Virgil's hand has brushed his twice already, and he thinks he might die if it happens again.

He drifts off into thought for a moment, wondering about a couple of days ago.

"Hey, Virgil?" his voice stays surprisingly steady as his heart thrums in his chest.

"Yeah, Princey?" Virgil glances over at him, and oh god, gay panic, now's not the time.

"Uh, when you... I mean, back when you found me in that hallway and helped me out, uh- well..."

Virgil's gaze softens. He offers a hand, and Roman takes it hesitantly. He squeezes lightly, causing the nerd exhale his nervousness.

"Um, when that happened, you kept calling me 'sweetheart'," Roman couldn't stop the smile on his face. "What was that about?"

His chest burst into butterflies as they both stop walking, and Virgil gives a fond smirk. He avoids Roman's gaze now, a light blush on his face.

"I- uh, sh*t. F*ck, sh*t," he mutters.

Roman waits, though his eager heart beats loudly against his chest.

"I, um... I care about you. You're important to me."

Hi, yes, hello. Uh, Roman's not here right now. He's currently bursting into a million fireworks.

"You- uh, what way do you mean?" Roman can feel how red his face is.

This is when Virgil looks at him, anxious and biting his lip. Flustered, he's flustered the skater boy. His face is red too, though debatably not as red as the nerd. No, Roman's face almost matches his bowtie.

Virgil takes Roman's other hand, shaking slightly from nerves. He stops biting his lip. He risks a brief glance at Roman's lips, and- omg. Omg, I'm going to die.

Both of their faces are burning bright red.

"You... want me to be your sweetheart?" Roman is breathless, and honestly a little overwhelmed by the fact his crush stared at his lips, oh Jesus f*cking Christ.

"Yeah, if you'd have me..." Virgil is just as breathless as they glance into each other's eyes, baring their souls and hearts to one another.

"I'd, uh- yeah, I'd like that."

Virgil moves one of his hands to hold the back of Roman's neck, and Roman's now-free hand rests on Virgil's shoulder. They both glance at each other's lips, hearts pounding and butterflies swarming their insides.

"Can I kiss you, sweetheart?" Virgil looks at him gay in the eyes, and Roman nearly melts.

"Yes," is all the nerd can muster.

They lean in awkwardly, considering they're inexperienced highschoolers, brushing their lips together. They each pull back from some initial shock, slowly leaning back as they gain what little confidence they have. They quickly peck each other, nerves turning into bursts of explosive colour and excitement in their guts. Roman looks at Virgil, his heart fluttering as he recovers from that. Virgil smiles fondly at him. His sweetheart- omg, he's his sweetheart now- smiling back. They're both in a daze. Faces bright pink, heads feeling light like clouds, and hands stay surprisingly steady as they gaze at each other.

It takes them a few moments before they realize that they're going to be late for school.

"Oh sh*t- uh, school's about to start," Virgil cusses as he takes his hand from the back of Roman's neck and looks at the time on his phone.

"Uh, yep. Yep, we should probably go an'- and stuff," his nerd awkwardly stumbles over his words, moving his hand off of Virgil's shoulder.

Virgil pockets his phone as they continue walking to school, picking up the pace a little. They still hold hands as they go. Gay panic roaring in their minds, a swirling mix of emotions leftover from kissing and confessing.

They don't part until needing to go down separate hallways for class.

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creativly-anxious · 1 year ago

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*yeets sketch into the void* Uh, here’s Roman and Virgil from my ArtQuest AU, I guess?

#personal post #RedArt #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #could be read a prinxiety #am i going to provide context? not really #there isn’t much to begin with #i just wanted to draw them being cuddly goobers #if i render this and add a background Remus is like. upside down in a tree or something

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intrulogicalweek · 1 year ago

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(Starts to close laptop)

Wait, Lo Lo… One more?

Very well. One more. (reading) Roman was tired. Rehearsals had been long since the grand opening was only a few weeks away and everyone was…

Brothers and Secrets Masterpost

Welcome to my story for @ts-storytime this year! This is a story about brothers and keeping secrets, unsurprisingly. There will be comedy, a bit of drama, many mysteries and a few confrontations. The main focus is on the twins with Intrulogical, Queerplatonic Moceit, background Remile and hints of Prinxiety. I hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: Remus set out on his backpacking trip across Europe with a route in mind but no set time frame. So when he suddenly calls Roman as he’s about to go to bed and demands to be picked up from the airport, Roman is rightfully caught off guard. As it turns out, Remus has experienced more in those two years than his brother had thought, not only getting himself a boyfriend but also a house to live in with said boyfriend.

There are many things Roman finds suspicious about this new set of circumstances and as time goes on, the mysteries pile on. Remus is hiding something, but what? And how will his secrets impact not only Roman’s life but that of their friends Patton and Janus as well?

Keep reading

#namiswriting #brothers and secrets #masterpost #finished #creativitwins #intrulogical #queerplatonic moceit #possible future prinxiety #background remile #💙💚#sanders sides #fanfiction

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skeletinmoss · 5 months ago

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Hey! I have an art request, if your okay with it! It might be a bit iffy cause I noticed you don't often draw two characters in one image or backgrounds but, I hope it being Prinxiety can even that out a little bit!

Basically I have this idea but I don't wanna subject it to my art skills, so requesting it is! What I'm thinking is a fantasy AU Virgil and Roman. Roman's a prince naturally, and Virgil is a vampire who lives in an abandoned castle in the woods. Virgil and Roman have a secret relationship going on and so sneak out to see eachother! I kinda wanna see Virgil sneaking into Roman's room through the balcony at night, think the scene in alladin!

I don't mind if it takes a while but I have my math exam on monday and I'm expecting to be in distress so I kinda need some Prinxiety happiness to look at! It's still fine if you can't or don't wanna do it though, just if you don't please answer this ask to let me know.

Oh, also! Upon further inpection of this blog I've realised I'm currently reading one of your fics! (Raven Poetry) been loving it so far!

Hope it's worth waiting for. I had a great time working on it. It looked stunning even before I added the atmosphere, just gorgeous. I love it so much

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #prinxiety

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stardustsides · 4 months ago

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Love is a Beach

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

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

Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety

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

Word Count: ~2100

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

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

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

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

Propose the world’s worst plan.

They still hadn’t told the others about the breakup yet. It was getting to the point where it was starting to worry Janus, so he could only imagine how much it was destroying Patton. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, he had been turning the question of how to tell them over and over in that worrywart way of his. And so, the plan was concocted: by keeping the act up until after their vacation, they both got to enjoy one final week of normalcy with their friends, and it gave them time to cool down enough that when they did break the news, they could at least present a united front.

And, though he wouldn’t admit it, the selfish part of him wanted to avoid the crushing finality of telling everyone for as long as possible.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, his brain had always seemed to turn to mush when it came to Patton.

The bastard was impossible not to adore.

And so, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed that he would be sharing with his ex-boyfriend for the next week, in a lovely little house that he could so clearly picture the two of them sharing a life in, surrounded by all of their closest friends.

One week. That was all he had to get through.

One week, and then everything would change.

Dinner was, of course, delicious.

Janus twirled his spaghetti around his fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, situated directly next to Patton. He cut a sidelong glance at him—at the very least, he seemed a fraction less tense than a few hours ago, which he supposed was an improvement. He had been white-knuckling the steering wheel on the ride over.

His face was also prettily flushed, the way it always was after a few glasses of wine, which Janus was valiantly trying to ignore.

“This is wonderful, dear,” Janus said as naturally as he could. Patton started a little.

“Thank you!” He responded, the flush creeping down to his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. A small, traitorous part of Janus’s brain wondered how far down it went. “…honey.”

“I was thinking we could all head down to the beach at around ten tomorrow?” Roman cut in brightly. “Make some sandwiches, bring a cooler?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Virgil, picking at his salad. In spite of himself, Janus had to fight back a smile. Roman could have suggested they all walk over hot coals at six AM sharp, and Virgil would have readily agreed.

“Everyone good for margaritas after dinner?” Roman asked. He had worked as a bartender in college, and as such, always took it upon himself to make drinks for the group at large. Not that Janus complained. Roman knew exactly how Janus liked his drinks–syrupy sweet, the alcohol nearly undetectable–and scarcely teased him for it.

Patton nodded so emphatically that a bit of white wine from the glass that he was holding nearly sloshed over the side, and understanding hit Janus like a stone sinking in water. He’s planning on getting drunk.

Janus could hardly blame him–the thought had crossed his mind too, as a way to cope with the comically uncomfortable situation the two of them had found themselves in–but Patton was a notoriously chatty drunk.

The first time they had all drank together as a group was in freshman year, sitting in a cramped circle around Roman and Patton’s shared dorm room, playing some drinking game that Roman had found online and nursing some truly disgusting vodka mixers with whatever beverages they could scavenge from the vending machines. It had been two years before he and Patton had started dating, and at the time, Janus had been determinedly ignoring the way his stomach swooped at the sound of his laugh like a bird dipping and gliding in the air. He knew fully well from his older sister what happened to friend groups when two of the members started dating. Despite having only met in August, these were some of the closest friends that Janus had ever had, and he wasn’t willing to give it up on the off chance that Patton liked him back.

On his left, Logan took a shot of New Amsterdam, his face scrunching up in disgust as the others cheered. On his right, Patton, leaning against his dresser and eyes slightly unfocused, shushed them halfheartedly, mumbling something about keeping quiet for the RA. Remus reached to the deck of cards in the center of their lopsided circle, and drew the top one, crowing, “Queen!”

“Whaddoes that one do again?” Virgil asked, readjusting the weighted dinosaur from Patton’s bed he was holding in his lap. He hadn’t relinquished it all night.

“I gotta ask someone a question, then that person asks someone else a question, and so on. First person who doesn’t want to answer drinks. Logan–what’s the worst grade you’ve ever gotten in a class?”

Logan blushed beet red and glared down into his red solo cup, as if trying to divine the answer from his rancid blue Gatorade mixer. At last, he mumbled, “A B. Plus. In junior year English.”

They all roundly booed him.

Logan straightened up and cast his gaze around the circle. “Um…Patton. What is the worst thing you’ve done in the past week?”

Patton’s eyes immediately widened, and he looked guiltily down at the floor. “Yes’trday, I…killed a spider.”

“The horror,” said Remus.

“I didn’ mean to, it jus’ startled me!” Patton said, the alcohol slurring his words together. They had never gotten drunk together as a group before, and Janus suspected that this may be Patton’s first time getting drunk at all.

“‘S alright, Pat,” Virgil snorted, not much more sober than Patton was. “‘S your turn.”

Patton immediately perked up. “So I ask a question?”

“Yep!” Roman said from Patton’s other side.

“Can be anything,” Remus added.

Patton thought for a moment, then turned to Janus so suddenly he startled. Patton’s face was inches away from his, eyes glittering, a pretty flush on his cheeks. ”Janus!” he chirped, and nearly tipped forward into Janus’ lap. “Do you like me?”

The reaction was immediate. Remus choked on his drink, and Roman made a noise that was somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a delighted gasp. Logan’s mouth fell open as he gaped at Patton, and Virgil, despite his inebriation, tugged at Patton’s hand firmly and gave him a pointed glare, hissing, “Pat.”

Janus sat rooted to the spot, the world seeming to tip beneath him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Patton, looking at him so earnestly with those melted chocolate eyes, his lips slightly parted. He was so close that Janus could count the freckles on his face.

He could feel the response on his tongue; could feel the shape of the words, the weight of them. He opened his mouth, and managed a humiliating sound that was something like a frog croaking, which made the twins laugh even harder.

Yes, his brain screamed at him. Yes, I do, and if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall in love with you, too.

Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

Now he sat on the couch, margarita in hand and trying his best to ignore the way his nerve endings lit up at every square inch of Patton’s body pressed against his side.

They were all a few drinks deep by now; the twins had insisted on playing drinking games, despite the fact that they were certainly getting too old for such things. Still, it was a welcome distraction: facing off against Roman and Virgil with Remus in a game of pong as Logan and Patton watched bemusedly from the couch was a welcome distraction. At some point, though, he had tapped out, swapping places with Logan, and now he found himself on the couch with Patton.

The room had gone pleasantly fuzzy around the edges; Janus closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor the feeling. His friends were together, the house was quaint and cozy, and Patton was leaning against him, his warmth as comforting as Janus remembered. He could almost pretend that everything was as it should be; that he and Patton were still together, and that they could sit like this again, curled up on each other, not having to worry about jumping back as if the other had burned them.

Janus shoved the thought away; it wasn’t fair to Patton to let himself pretend. They had broken up, and Patton had probably moved on by now. Regardless of whatever lingering feelings Janus still had for him, he needed to respect that.

Patton shifted, and his head lolled gently against Janus’ shoulder. He had been strangely quiet all night—at least he was keeping his lips sealed about the agreement—but Janus was being very much reminded what a cuddly drunk Patton was.

He supposed he should be grateful; if Patton hadn’t decided to sit next to him, it might have seemed suspicious. But him sitting here brought on a new host of problems, chief of which is that Janus would have given anything for the two of them to stay there forever.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind. The breakup was his own fault, after all; if he had wanted this forever, then he should have stepped up when he had the chance. But still, that wouldn’t have been fair to Patton.

Things are better this way, he told himself firmly. He had been repeating the words over and over again for the past few months, hoping that one day, he’d believe them.

He shifted, and found himself nose-to-nose with Patton, who was blearily blinking up at him through long eyelashes. Janus didn’t know how long he had been staring at him like that.

“Hello,” Janus said, hoping that the flush in his cheeks could be chalked up to the alcohol. “Enjoying the party?”

“Mmmhm,” Patton mumbled sleepily. “Dr’nk too much.”

“I can see that.”

Patton’s brow furrowed, face scrunched up in a pout. “Mean.”

“Honest.” He could feel Patton’s soft curls tickling his chin. “Perhaps we should get you to bed.”

“No,” he whined. “‘M comfy.”

“You won’t be when you wake up on the couch tomorrow with a terrible hangover.”

He poked Janus in the arm. “You’re comfy.”

“Patton,” Janus said, sterner this time. This—whatever this was—couldn’t happen. “Come on, let’s get up.”

“You going to bed?” Roman asked from the pong table, wincing as Logan sank a shot into one of his cups.

“Mhm,” Janus said, looping an arm around a very reluctant Patton. “Someone had a bit too much to drink.”

“‘M fine,” Patton insisted, an argument that was made less convincing by the way he started hiccuping.

“Bed, Patton.”

Remus snorted. “Don’t let him trip up the stairs!” He called after them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Janus said back easily, even as Patton stumbled over his own feet.

They were almost to the landing, Patton tucked against Janus’ side, when Janus heard him mumble, almost too quietly for him to hear it, “I wish you din’ break up with me.”

If Janus hadn’t been so focused on getting him safely to bed, he might have accidentally dropped him. A million emotions clawed their way through his body, filling up his heart: guilt, longing, anger towards himself.

He pushed them all down and readjusted Patton under his arm. “I promise, Patton. It’s better this way.”

TAGLIST: @bluejay-of-the-west @scare-amor @harmonialcollisions @emoprincey @dragonboots @just-my-interpretation @spicycreativity @infawrit10 @emophoenixreborn @6-paris-6 @thedeadandthedecaying @moceit @lily-janus @instantromannoodles @betamash @nandysparadox @halfhissandwich @sanderssidesthehouse @littlerat2 @giraffeboat

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 3 months ago

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|| A Swallow's Symphony in Spring ||

!! This fanfiction is rated mature!!!! Please heed the warnings and read at your own risk !!

Hello all!! Welcome to my masterpost for this years @tss-storytime !!! I'm so, so excited to share this one with you all! This idea has been in the works for a whole long while now.

Hugeee shout out to @ax3-e0ns for the absolutely BEAUTIFUL ART they've done for my fic <3 which you can find here:

Also huge thanks to @the-princey-pie for all your help with worldbuilding, character design and the fic title itself. Thank you to @sleepy-nova-tea for being an amazing cheerleader and brainstorm buddy and @greymillieattheball for your awesome beta reading <33 I couldn't have done this without you guys!!!!

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Roman, Prince of Hirundia, and now heir to the throne after the tragic death of his older twin was perfect. He stood up straight, he did as his mother commanded and he said everything that they wanted to hear. Roman was not suffering, because Princes do not suffer. At least not in the eyes of their kingdom.

A revolution brews in the back alleys and streets while Roman remains unaware, a new Royal guard joins their force as Roman’s personal guard and despite their first impressions he warms up to Virgil quickly, and despite everything, Virgil seems to like him too - but when everything falls apart and the palace is seized by the people, what was Roman supposed to do with the fact that he was in love with a traitor?

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Warnings:

Abuse (physical and psychological), minor animal abuse, controlling/manipulative parents, past malnourishment/talk about starvation, past major character death, past parental death, nightmares. Violence/murder (non-graphic). Unsympathetic OCs, alcohol, 'off screen' execution, depression, ptsd.

This fic does end happily.

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, background QPR Loceit, romantic Remile and Thomas/Nico

Word Count: 57,851

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+ Chapter 1 - Come Wander Quietly +

+ Chapter 2 - And Listen to the Wind +

+ Chapter 3 - Hear the Trumbling in the Stone +

+ Chapter 4 - And Watch the Swallows as they Fly +

+ Chapter 5 - Strike Confusion from your Soul +

+ Chapter 6 - In The Night +

+ Chapter 7 - Come Here and Listen to the Sky +

+ Chapter 8 - Come Walking High +

+ Chapter 9 - Above the Rolling of the sea +

+ Chapter 10 - And will the Swallows Come Again? +

+ Chapter 11 - The Calling of a Hundred Thousand Voices +

+ Chapter 12 - While the Swallows Roam Alone +

+ Chapter 13 - Do you Hear the Angry Bells Ringing in the Night? +

+ Chapter 14 - Do you Hear the Swallows When They've Flown? +

+ Chapter 15 - There is no Sorrow like the Murmur of Their Wings +

+ Chapter 16 - There is no Choir Like Their Song +

+ Chapter 17 - Will Some Loving Ease Your Pain? +

+ Chapter 18 - The Breezes Blow the Petals from your Hand +

+ Epilogue - There is no Power like the Freedom of Their Flight

Chapter titles taken from 'Swallow Song' by Joan Beaz

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Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierreblogs @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #tss fanfic #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ao3 #masterpost #rowan writes

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infinitesimaldna · 3 months ago

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Have You Ever Considered Killing Your Title? Masterpost

Remus has known how he’s supposed to be since he was 5 and his duties were explained to him for the first time. He might be the crown prince, or just another heir, but either way, he had a role to play. It wasn’t a role that suited him though; didn’t stick like a second skin. And as time passes and he and Roman grow older, how much it doesn't suit him becomes all the more prevalent and savage in its perpetuation.

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Link to the fic on Ao3!

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TW: Verbal abuse, implied character death, self-deprecation

Ships: Platonic creativitwins, platonic intruloceit, very background prinxiety (it's mentioned like twice)

Word Count: 38,919

Notes: This is my @tss-storytime Big Bang fic for this year! I had the wonderful honor of working with @logarhythm-bees, who has created seriously incredible art for this fic. Go check out all their stuff honestly, I gush about their art as much as possible.

Link to their art piece here

Also huge thank you to my beta for this fic, @quillienvii. They were editing and reviewing minutes after I was writing, and were also a huge support and motivator that kept me focused and present in finishing this thing. Seriously, I cannot give enough thanks to this individual, I love you dearly <3

______

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 5.5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 8.5

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 11.5

Chapter 12

Chapter 12.33

Chapter 12.66

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 14.5

Chapter 15

#sanders sides #creativitwins #thomas sanders #tss storytime 2024 #sasi #sasi fanfic #sasi fan events #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #tss storytime #HYECKYT fanfic

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lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie · 8 months ago

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Merry Christmas, Janus

Summary: After the gift exchange, Janus returns to the Dark Side of the Mindpalace to relax and reflect. As he picks up his new socks, he finds a second gift from Roman…maybe he really should have laid off of the wine.

Pairings: None, background prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: WINE/ALCOHOL MENTION, NO COMFORT, I GUESS?

(A/N: So I'm posting this really, REALLY late because I had no energy to finish this but I finally do!)

When Logan had invited him and Remus to this year’s gift exchange with the whole Fam-ILY, Janus hadn’t expected things to go the way they did. Yes, he might have downed a few glasses as he refused to show up sober. He didn’t want to have to remember such a warm and soft event. He didn’t to have to hear all the sappy shit coming from those Light side dorks. Especially from Patton. Janus especially did NOT want to deal with Virgil and Roman while he was sober.

Speaking of the prince, Janus finds himself glancing over at the Creative side. Roman was currently curled up on the couch with Virgil, babbling away as he showed the anxious side his twenty-dollar bill with his face on it. Virgil chuckled, lounging against Roman’s side, and saying something Janus could care less about. Though…something twists in Janus’ stomach as he watches the two of them get cozy, Roman wrapping an arm around Virgil who nuzzles him. Gross.

Janus watches them a little longer before turning away. He finishes his remaining wine and makes the mug vanish as he tries to ignore his still throbbing cheek from the bitch-slap earlier. Yeah, he probably deserved it though. The lying side then glances at Roman and Virgil again, glancing away when Virgil suddenly glares at him. Janus doesn’t know when, but Virgil has been acting like the prince’s guard dog and hardly ever leaves his side. Huffing, Janus turns to Remus.

“Remus, get up. We’re going home.” Janus hisses.

Remus looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor with his air-fryer. Somehow, Remus has managed to put several substances and a stick of deodorant in it.

“Already?” he whines. “But I wanna stay! I’m making dinner!”

Janus cringes at the chunky slop in the air-fryer bucket.

“We already had dinner. You can bring that home and play with it all you want there.”

Remus pouts and unplugs his appliance, tucking the bucket back in.

“Boo, you’re no fun, you Scrooge.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be here. It’s getting too sappy for my liking.”

“Fiiine.” Remus then turns to the rest of the room. “Hey, dorks! We’re dipping out. Snakey here is getting grouchy.”

Janus huffs.

“Thanksss, Remusss…” he hisses.

After what felt like an hour of goodbyes, thank yous, and Christmas wishes as well as a good riddance from Roman and Virgil, Janus and Remus finally sank out and returned home. As soon as they popped up into the dark and cold common room, Janus beelined towards his office while Remus scurried off somewhere with the air-fryer. Janus didn’t care and entered his office, locking the door behind him. Usually, this is where he starts chugging a bottle of wine but for once he’s trying to sober up so he can sort out his mind. Maybe he’ll thank Roman for slapping him somewhat awake.

Roman…

Of all the sides…Roman had to be the one to have his name.

Janus sighs and stares at the box on his desk. Despite everything he’d done to the prince, Roman still put in the effort to make his gift look nice. Roman was even thoughtful, giving him a gift he could make use of rather than giving him some fancy trinket. The snake side picks up the box and opens it. Luckily, the bitch-slap-in-a-box was a one-time thing. Setting the lid aside, Janus picks up the mustard yellow socks inside and gazes at them. Sure, they’re just socks and usually they’re not a gift you want to receive on Christmas, but part of Janus couldn’t be upset. Roman gave him an actual gift rather than just leaving him with nothing.

Trying to ignore his heavy thoughts, the deceitful side discards his gloves and runs his fingers over the fabric of the sock. They’re quite soft, much to his surprise. He at least expected it to be some god-awful fabric that would try to rip the scales off of his feet. Janus then picks up the other sock and feels it only to pause when he feels something crinkly in the sock. He winces and prays it’s not another prank from the prince. Bracing himself, Janus reaches in, and his fingertips pluck a folded and now crumpled piece of stationery. Of course. There in black ink and written in cursive is his own name. Oh. Janus then opens the paper, a very long and cursive message waiting inside.

Dear Sna Dec Janus,

I apologize if my gift to you isn’t anything fancy. And I’m not talking about the bitch slap. Sorry for that by the way. I wasn’t going to do it at first but I thought it’d be funny. Honestly, I’m glad I got to see it in person. I really wanted to slap you, but I didn’t want to look like the jerk of all jerks. Again. Now, why am I writing this letter to you? Well…I have a lot to say to you and I don’t think you’d understand if I tried to say it in person. Despite your role, you’d never believe me. You’d probably think I was sucking up to our dear old dad or even Thomas. So, I’m doing it in letter form. Writing always helped me free my mind of the things I don’t want to think about.

I just wanted to know, why do you hate me? Forgive me if you’re still bitter about the hat stealing and the name calling. Everything. To be truly honest, I had no idea what to do. When we were in the courtroom, everything was flipped outside down and all around. They said to trust you and then they said not to. When I tried to follow, they didn’t like it. Like I walked down the wrong path despite them giving me the map. Funny, isn’t it? Trying to do what you thought was right only to hurt yourself and someone else. That’s probably why you hate me.

I suppose I should also apologize for my growing ego. Better it grew rather than let it fall apart and ruin Thomas, right? Then again, what do you care? I’m just a bumbling, arrogant prince who cares for no one but himself. Is that what you wanted to hear?

I also miss you. When we were up on that stage and I had no clue you had taken Patton’s form, I had fun acting on stage and having, well, ‘you’ to direct me. It was fun and you seemed to like drama and theater. I had hoped we could work together again but now I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to tell when you’re acting and when you’re not. It’s a shame, really. After we were formally introduced, I thought we were friends. I wanted to be friends, believe me, but I’m scared. I don’t want you to lie to me again and make me believe you care. For Thomas’ sake I’m willing to be as civil as I can so we can work together but outside of that, I don’t think I’m ready to face you. Maybe in the future, we could talk but not right now. Not until I feel ready.

I suppose I should end this letter now. If you’re still reading this, Janus, then thank you, I guess. Thank you for not trashing this letter. I mean, you can once you’re done reading if you want. You probably still don’t care. I’ll see you around the Mindpalace or something. Take care of Remus for me. He seems to like you more. I really wish we could’ve been friends. I hope you enjoy the rest of your Christmas evening. I mean, you won right? You beat the mighty prince and his massive ego. Congratulations. Merry Christmas, Janus.

Roman

Janus stares at the letter, rereading it once more before putting it down on the desk with shaky hands. He rubs at his face, ignoring the fact that his cheeks were wet now. He leans back in his chair, hanging in his head guilt. God, Roman…what had he done? He just…the prince wanted to be friends…Janus licks his lips, the taste of salt and bitter grapes mixing. He stares at the letter sitting on his desk, regret and something heavy pooling in his gut. Janus hadn’t realized how much he’d hurt the prince has was supposed to protect.

He really should lay off of the wine…

#li talks #sanders sides #sanderessides #ts fanfiction #roman sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders angst

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logarhythm-bees · 3 months ago

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🏰The Carousel Kingdom - Masterlist 🎠

Art by @prince-rowan-of-the-forest!

Written for @tss-storytime

Virgil, average by-commission artist and studio-apartment resident, is fine with his life. Simple, predictable. Manageable. But a trip to find some new furniture with his best friend Patton turns into something far more complicated- a carousel horse turned prince, a fantasy world at his fingertips, and a rogue bandit on its throne. It doesn’t help that Patton’s taking to it like a fish to water, and Virgil’s feeling a lot more like a fish on the moon. Out of place, unprepared, and not enough limbs to be helpful. But the prince seems to have more faith in him than Virgil really understands.

AKA, Virgil just wanted a new couch, and now he’s reinstating the monarchy of an alternate universe. Fun for all!

QPP Prinxiety, background Locietality. Minor violence with Remus hitting people with the morningstar, minor swearing. Otherwise G for General

Chapter 1 - Junkyard Gold

Chapter 2 - Prince out of Water

Chapter 3 - Fancakes

Chapter 4 - The Great Divide

Chapter 5 - Into the Great Unknown

Chapter 6 - In This Strange New World

Chapter 7 - Home Where the Heart Is

Chapter 8 - Old Food, New Friends

Chapter 9 - Show and Spell

Chapter 10 - Play Pretend

Chapter 11 - Snakes Onboarding

Chapter 12 - V is for Vine and also Valor

Chapter 13 - Glamour

Chapter 14 - Soup Store

Chapter 15 - The Plan

Chapter 16 - Brakein

Chapter 17 - A Multiple Choice Biz

Chapter 18 - The Prince is Here, Before Us

Chapter 19 - Epiclougue

Thank you for reading!

#sanders sides #tss-storytime #tss big bang 2024

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olliedollie1204 · 2 years ago

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a winter's tale (chapter 2)

Remus goes to a winter break party… so does his love-stricken brother, his meddling roommate, his nosy-ass friends, and, oh yeah, his totally-not-a-crush. What could go wrong?

(Read here on AO3) (Read chapter 1 here)

Remus had no idea what he was drinking, but it was hot and sweet and spicy and it burned on the way down— exactly what he was looking for. Gleefully he chugged the rest of it and threw the red solo cup on the ground, making it bounce unceremoniously.

“Fuck you, Professor Callahan!” he screamed, and the circle of equally drunk college students around him cheered in response. One of the benefits of going to an end-of-semester house party was that virtually everyone was on the same page, that making it through yet another term without dropping out was nothing short of a triumph.

“Pick up that cup, you look like an animal,” Janus said directly in his ear, speaking loudly while still not shouting over the music.

“A party animal!” Remus replied.

“And a pitiful college cliche.”

“Jan-ny, can you get off my dick for two seconds?”

“Are you looking for someone else to take that spot?”

Remus snorted. “Fuck yeah! As long as they’re significantly more sober than me right now.”

“Oh, please, you’ve had two drinks,” Janus said. “You should see Virgil. Last I saw Roman was holding his hair back while he puked his guts out.”

“Shit! Was it nasty?”

Janus gave him a withering stare. “Yes, because I obviously stood beside him and watched. I have no idea, Remus. I just gave Roman a peppermint to give him when he was done. So much for Roman’s plan.”

UGH. No more talk about plans!

“Aright, I’m done talking about boring shit.” Remus grabbed Janus’ drink and quickly downed it, ignoring his friend’s affronted gasp before pushing the cup back into his hands. “Where are the others?”

Janus snatched the cup back, scowling into it. “Well, Patton set up shop in the kitchen handing out those candy apples he made. I haven’t seen Logan.”

Remus blinked. “No Logan?” he asked, realizing at the last second that he sounded far too much like a child who’d just been told Santa left the mall to go have a smoke.

“No Logan,” Janus confirmed. He raised one eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

No. Fuck. Okay. That was fine. It was fine— if Janus hadn’t seen him that meant he wasn’t here, because Janus always made it a priority to scope out the entire party like a bloodhound, figuring out who his fuckbuddy target would be for the night. And he’d obviously seen Virgil and Patton, and together with Logan the three of them always rode together (and really, Remus thought that was unfair, for the three people most likely to volunteer to be designated drivers to all ride together— he and his roommates always ended up Ubering just so they could all get equally drunk). So Logan wasn’t here, and that was fine, and definitely not super stupidly disappointing for any reason.

Remus did himself the favor of not saying any of that out loud, and Janus sighed.

“Well, I’m getting another drink,” he said pointedly. Remus grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That is a much shorter list than you’d like to admit, Jan-Man!” Remus replied cheerfully, turning away and dipping back through the crowd before Janus could respond.

It was pretty crowded, which Remus honestly kind of loved. Crowds were a good sign of many things— first, that the hosts hadn’t run out of drinks. Important. Second, that the party was still going. Equally as important.

After that his list sort of devolved from neat bullet points into vague feelings of contentment that arose whenever Remus found himself pressed between unknown bodies in an unknown building on an unknown night. It wasn’t about sex (despite what everyone who knew him would believe)— it was intimate, sure, but the intimacy arose from the unyielding mania that came from rubbing against a throbbing mass of nameless, faceless bodies, sweating and grinding and shaking from emotional excess.

… Fuck. Maybe Remus should take a page from Roman’s book and start writing poetry. Logan liked poetry, didn't he?

“Shut the fuck up!” he said out loud, not that anyone could hear him.

Maybe he could text him? No, that’d be stupid. He was at a party, he was supposed to be enjoying himself. And Logan didn’t even really like parties anyway! Why would he want his friend to subject himself to an environment that he clearly only tolerated on a good day, just so Remus could… what, talk to him?

“You’re thinking pretty loud there, buckaroo!” a voice interrupted him before some bright red thing was shoved under his nose. “Candy apple for your thoughts?”

Remus looked up. “I think I’ve had enough of your candy apples to last a lifetime, Pat.”

“Not my fault you kept eating my trial apples after I told you they’d give you a tummy ache,” Patton replied, just a hint too smugly to come across as perfectly innocent. It made Remus very proud.

“How’s the party?” Patton continued.

“You’re here too, Padre, you should know.”

“Oh, you know this isn’t really my scene.” Patton waved his hand through the air. “I only come to these things to hang out with my friends! But looks like most of our group had other plans for tonight, huh? Everyone’s having some pretty important conversations, huh?”

He looked at Remus meaningfully, and it took several seconds for Remus’ brain to figure out what he meant.

“What, you mean— Roman and Virge?” His eyes widened, and he slammed his cup down on the table with too much force. “Wait, do you know something?”

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well— yeah, Virge has been talking about confessing all week—”

“Virgil has?” Remus nearly shrieked. A guilty look passed over Patton’s face; he really couldn’t lie for shit.

“Oh, oh shoot, Remus please don’t tell anyone, please tell don’t Virge I told you—” he babbled. Remus’ grin felt like it’d split his face.

“Are you kidding me? Roman has been fucking moping for weeks over this party, he got it into his head tonight was the perfect night for it—”

“Virgil, too,” Patton replied, gasping a little as his smile came back. “Oh my God, that’s so romantic! This is such an exciting night!”

Remus nodded, turning toward the direction of the bathroom and craning his neck. “Wonder if that’s what’s happening in the vomitorium over there. Usually Logan takes over on Virgil puke duty— Roman’s lucky he’s not here to do it tonight, because now he can make his lovey-dovey speech to Virgil a literal barf fest—”

“Logan’s here.”

Remus stopped talking. Patton blinked at him.

“Logan’s here?” he repeated, as if Remus hadn’t heard him. “He— he’s been here the whole time, he came with Virge and me.”

Um. What the fuck? “Record scratch?”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“No!” What the fuck? Logan was here? Janus didn’t usually lie so boldly to Remus’ face anymore, and he couldn’t even think of why he’d bother lying about Logan not being here.

Patton frowned. He put down the candy apple he was holding and fished his phone out of his front pocket.

“I’ve been texting him, but he hasn’t responded. I thought he’d found you already, I thought you two were talking about—”

He stopped himself suddenly, shook his head. “Never mind!”

Remus’ brow furrowed. Yeah, Patton couldn’t lie, it was true, but each and every one of them in their friend group could smell his bullshit repression a hundred miles away.

“What did he want to talk about, Patton?” Remus asked— maybe demanded, if he were being honest. Patton busied himself with his candy apples again.

“I really think you should go find him, bud, this isn’t my business—”

Remus was about to complain, but a flash of light in his peripheral made him realize the bathroom door had opened, the yellow light spilling out across the darkened living room.

“Later!” he burst out, spinning on his heel and shoving his way back into the crowd.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #intrulogical #background prinxiety #my writing #my posts

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anxiousgaypanicking · 6 months ago

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Oreo Masterlist

Synopsis: As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails.

Focus Ships: Prinxiety, background Loceit/Intruality

Part One: Dickbucket (Derogatory) Part Two: Lost An Oreo Part Three: Pain And Plans Part Four: Wonderful Part Five: Oversleeping Part Six: Sleepover Part Seven: Aftermath Part Eight: Movie Theatre Mayhem

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #agp fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #fake dating #character growth #highschool au #oreo #prinxiety oreo

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part-time-zombie · 5 months ago

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Nobody's Fool But Yours

pairings: romantic prinxiety

summary: virgil doesn't want to admit that he loves roman. if he did then he'd have to come to terms with the fact that roman doesn't love him back. after a prank gone too far ends up with roman head over heels for someone else, virgil can't help but think he's truly lost any chance he had. maybe love can still blossom when it's least expected...

tags/warnings: love potion, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, this is what happens when an aroace loser tries to write a love story, janus and remus are kinda jerks in this one but whatever, subtle background demus if you squint

word count: 8779

a/n: i came up with the idea for this one after seeing the use of love potions as a trope and thinking "has it ever been used on someone they weren't already in love with?". i don't know if this turned out ok.

Virgil knew he was a downer. He killed the vibe constantly, always finding the negative in things until they weren’t interesting or exciting anymore. He was a pessimist, a depressing force that discouraged Thomas and the other sides from trying anything even remotely fun. He knew that.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t still be hopeful.

There have been times where his nervousness turned into anticipation, where he became excited instead of anxious. When that happened he felt almost optimistic, and the daunting scale of things fell away to reveal incredible potential. It was infrequent, but it still happened on occasion.

Especially around Roman.

He didn’t know what it was about Roman, how he carried a confidence so contagious it seemed to sometimes bleed over to Virgil and pierce his fog of fear with light and song. It had been happening a lot more lately, and Virgil was simultaneously concerned and grateful for it. Sure, he appreciated those momentary bouts of enthusiasm that almost made him forget about whatever it was that had been worrying him, but he wanted to understand why and how it was happening.

If he didn’t know any better he’d say it felt like butterflies in his stomach, but that was ridiculous. There was no way he felt like that about Roman of all sides, they were almost complete opposites in every way. Roman was too loud, too boisterous and dramatic and almost obnoxiously optimistic. He was overly confident in a way that bordered on arrogance, and he never thought things through before acting on impulse and putting himself and Thomas at risk.

Then why does Virgil still like spending time with him? Why the hell does he care so much about what Roman says or thinks about him? Why does he react so strongly to something as small as Roman smiling at him? Why does seeing him happy make Virgil feel this way, where he almost feels sure enough in himself to take a chance in the same way that Roman does?

He didn’t have a good answer for that.

It was hard to say when this had all started, he just gradually became aware of that funny feeling being there. Roman would do well on an audition or be celebrating a successful date that Thomas had been on, and as he danced around the living room with that happy glow on his face Virgil would be struck with that weird-but-not-bad feeling that made him want to do something. He didn’t know what, but he felt this almost excited drive to just… he didn’t really know. It was like an enthusiasm he couldn’t place, a buzzing in his veins and a thrumming in his chest that made him feel weightless and restless all at once, and it only happened like that when he was around Roman.

It wasn’t just Roman’s happiness that affected him. If Roman was struggling with something or upset about a lost opportunity he regrets not being able to take, Virgil would feel a heaviness in his chest and a knot in his stomach that would not leave him alone. This feeling was a lot easier for him to identify as dread and grief, but when he felt it towards Roman it was overwhelming. He couldn’t stand seeing him so dejected, so utterly devastated, and he would want to help in any way he could. He usually didn’t do too well with that, though. It was pretty clear that Roman was in need of a type of comfort that Virgil didn’t know how to give him.

Sometimes it felt like they spoke different languages. They were just too different, too unlike each other to like each other. That fact shouldn’t sting as much as it does, but it still made Virgil’s heart ache every time he thought about it. Roman had been so nice to him, he worked to make him feel like he was a part of the family, and Virgil couldn’t even return the favor in a way that mattered.

Despite this, Roman still spent time with him. In fact, Virgil usually wound up hanging out with Roman more than any other side. They would watch movies and play video games together in Roman’s room late into the night, joking back and forth until their sides hurt from laughing so much. Virgil didn’t usually laugh that hard around the others, yet Roman somehow knew just how to tease it out of him every time, spouting quips until Virgil was smiling so hard his face hurt.

It was on one of those days when it happened.

Virgil was with Roman in his room while they watched a movie. Well not so much watch, as they had both already seen it plenty of times by now and were mostly using it as background noise while they talked over it. They usually talked about senseless topics, never wavering any deeper than sharing their feelings on recent events, but this time Virgil felt surprisingly open, almost vulnerable in a way he never let himself be. He doesn’t remember how, but the conversation somehow made its way over to loneliness, an old and familiar ache for Virgil.

“You ever worry about dying alone?” he had asked. It was a more personal fear of his, and one he hadn’t planned on bringing up with Roman, yet it appears he was going to do just that.

Roman was quiet for two moments too long, and Virgil started to worry that he had gone and brought the mood down again. “Probably more than I should, if I’m being honest. But I try not to think about it. After all, with how likeable I am someone is bound to want to stick around,” he said this with a light and easygoing tone, but it sounded hollow in some subtle way. “Besides, it’s not like I’m completely alone. I’ve got Thomas and the others, and I’ve got you.”

Virgil’s stomach did that weird thing again, but he tried to ignore it. Besides, Roman surely didn’t mean it. Virgil was a buzzkill, a downer of the highest degree. To think that anyone, let alone Roman, would actually want to stick around with him that long was laughable.

“You’ll get tired of me eventually. It’s not exactly like I’m fun to be around,” he said.

“I didn’t say that. In fact, I think you can actually be some pretty decent company whenever you let your guard down like this,” Roman responded with a smile.

“You don’t mean that. I know I’m a lot to deal with, and I’ve probably got better luck at catching lightning in a bottle than finding someone who actually likes me.”

Roman didn’t say anything to that, though his eyes shone with an odd determination, like he had been presented with some challenge. He let Virgil change the subject, and the conversation was quickly forgotten in favor of a lighter topic.

It was two days later that Roman had knocked on Virgil’s door late at night. When Virgil finally pulled himself out of bed to answer the door, Roman had shoved something into his arms with a victorious smile before he could even get a word in.

“May the odds be forever in your favor, Katniss Everdoom,” he said with a wide grin.

Virgil looked down at what Roman had given him, only to nearly drop it in shock.

It was an ornate glass bottle, cap tightly secured to hold in the lightning bolt it contained. It writhed and danced around in the bottle like a tesla coil, never dwindling in its light or liveliness.

Virgil looked up at Roman in disbelief. “I, what, how did you… “

“Well, now that you’ve got your lightning in a bottle, maybe next time you’ll believe it when someone tells you they want to spend time with you,” he joked, granting Virgil one last wave before heading to his own room for the night. Virgil held the bottle close, unsure whether or not it was the static electricity from the lightning that made his nerves go all tingly and haywire.

That was around the time that Virgil had first started to consider the idea that he may have feelings for Roman, feelings that he really didn’t want to have to deal with.

Virgil had gotten really good at not dealing with those feelings, as it turns out. He could turn his smiles into smirks, avoid any and all discussions about romance by pretending to be annoyed instead of exposed, and squash down the butterflies like they were never there. It wasn’t easy but he got used to it, not like he had a choice. He couldn’t actually be expected to go and say something about what he was feeling, he’d just run the risk of mockery from the others and rejection from Roman, neither of which he wanted to endure. No, it was safest for him to just keep these stupid feelings to himself until he either stopped having them or died, whichever came first.

It was hard to not pretend to feel them around Roman, though. Especially when it was just the two of them in his room joking about the movie they weren’t watching. On nights like that when he made Roman hunch over and clutch at his sides with laughter, he felt almost tempted to go and say something about how seeing Roman this happy made Virgil feel less afraid. He’d stop himself every time, reminding himself that there was no way it would turn out well. He would just make Roman uncomfortable, overstepping their friendship by trying to make it into something emotional and complicated when it didn’t need to be. Besides, there was no way Roman felt like that about him. Virgil was everything that Roman stood against; fear versus confidence, pessimism versus optimism, doubt versus hope. That Roman tolerated him at all was miraculous enough.

Virgil tried to will the feelings away, spending more time alone and away from Roman and staying up far later than he wanted blasting every breakup song he knew to try and talk him out of it.

It didn’t work, all it did was make him even more miserable and tired.

This was stupid, he was being stupid. This wasn’t some ridiculous middle school crush; he was just surprised and happy to actually be friends with Roman and his idiot brain didn’t know how to handle it. That was all. Just a misunderstanding on his part and nothing more. It isn’t love.

The loud chiming of his alarm woke Virgil with a jerk. He really wanted to just go back to sleep, just sleep until everything went away. He heard the others make their way downstairs for breakfast, and Virgil resisted the urge to just roll over and stay in bed. If he did he would just make Patton worry, who would then get everyone else all freaked out and convinced that he had ducked out again, and he really didn’t want to put up with that whole mess.

Sighing in defeat, Virgil dragged himself out of bed and got dressed before slowly trudging down the hall towards the stairs. As he passed the others rooms, he heard a low but familiar chuckle come from behind one of the doors. He paused, looking at the door to Janus’ room. Why the hell was Remus in there, and what was he laughing about? Not wanting to be on the receiving end of another one of their jokes, he threw the door open with a growl.

Janus and Remus turned in surprise to look at him, mischievous smiles slowly leaving their faces once they realized they had been interrupted.

“What the hell is so goddamn funny this early in the morning?” Virgil asked them. He wasn’t in the mood for whatever this was, and it was best to shut it down before it became anything worse.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Janus said with a smirk. “It’s not funny at all, and I’m definitely looking forward to a peaceful breakfast downstairs with everyone.”

Remus chuckled darkly, far less subtle about his amusement. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ll just love what’s for breakfast, Virge. Best go and grab a plate before there’s none left for you.”

Virgil pushed past the worry that had started to creep up on him, turning it into anger. “Look, whatever it is you guys are planning on doing, just don’t even try.”

“Oh, but Virgil, I’m afraid it’s already been done,” Janus cooed. “We’re just staying out of range. You ought to do the same, if you’re smart. Or not. Either way we’ll have a good laugh.”

Now Virgil let himself feel worried. Whatever they were doing it definitely wasn’t good, and he had to go warn the others before anything happened. He ran down the stairs without another word, rushing to the kitchen in a panic. In the time it took him to get downstairs his mind had already supplied him with a surplus of suggestions on the scene he’d walk into: fire, poison, injury, death, humiliation, mutilation, mockery, the very least he’d see is some horrible drama. He turned the corner, barging into the kitchen in a breathless rush, coming face to face with-

The other sides calmly sitting down to start breakfast.

Virgil struggled to get his breath back, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Patton was currently in the middle of flipping the last of the pancakes and Roman and Logan were seated calmly at the table, now looking up at him in surprise at his sudden entry. Everything looked exactly like it was supposed to, not a single thing out of place.

“Virgil, is everything alright?” Logan asked, confusion and concern in his voice.

“Yeah, I just… are you guys okay?” he asked in return, cringing at the shake in his voice.

“We’re all perfectly fine, though you clearly seem troubled. Did something happen?”

Virgil tried to calm himself down. Maybe Janus and Remus were just messing with him, trying to get him all worked up over nothing until he panicked over another false alarm. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time they pulled something like that, anyway.

“No, I just, did any of you see Remus or Janus in here earlier?”

“Oh god, what did they do this time?” Roman said with a groan before grabbing one of the finished pancakes and applying a generous helping of syrup to it.

“I don’t know, they were just acting really weird this morning.”

Patton finished the pancakes and took a seat next to Roman, curious and concerned. Roman looked down to take a large bite of his syrup-soaked breakfast as Logan answered him.

“I don’t recall seeing either of them all morning, in fact I was about to go look for them as they hadn’t shown up to eat yet. I doubt either of them did anything devious, Virgil.”

Roman looked up from his plate to throw a skeptical glance at Logan. He looked like he was about to say something, only for his jaw to fall open as he let his fork drop to the floor with a clatter.

“Roman, you okay?” Patton asked him.

Roman absently nodded his head in response, not taking his eyes off of the logical side. It didn’t take long for Logan to start to squirm under the stare.

“Is there something on my face?” he eventually asked.

Roman blinked and slowly shook his head, the ends of his mouth quirking upwards in a dopey openmouthed grin. “No, nothing. You look fine, Logan. Actually, you look great.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped in sync with everyone else’s. What the hell?

Logan balked for a moment, stunned by the sudden compliment. “I beg your pardon?”

“I just never really noticed how good those glasses look on you until now. You certainly wear them better than Patton does, anyway,” Roman said, smile never leaving his face.

“Roman, while I appreciate the flattery, you do know we have the same face, right? I don’t wear these glasses any differently than Patton does, and you don’t usually compliment me to begin with, so I must say I am surprised by this sudden change in behavior,” Logan slowly responded.

Roman’s face fell for a moment, before it swiftly brightened again. “Well, I’m sorry I never really complimented you before. You certainly deserve more praise, anyway. Maybe I can make up for it starting now. I mean, it’s not just your glasses that make you look so cool. It’s how your eyes shine behind them like stars in the night sky. And you really hold yourself with such composure and focus, it’s kind of mesmerizing to watch. Your hair is always so neatly combed, too, not a single strand out of place. I really must commend you for that, it is no easy feat. I just can’t believe I never noticed how amazing you are until now,” he exclaimed.

Virgil had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation that made sense. Either that or Roman was pulling one of the cruelest jokes of all time, but he wouldn’t do something like this. Why was he saying any of this, especially to Logan of all sides? While they didn’t hate each other, they certainly didn’t get along very well. They were constantly butting heads, and in all the years he’s known them Roman has never gone and flirted with him like this, almost like he was…

“Roman,” Patton slowly asked him, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Roman finally turned to look at him, a lovestruck look on his face. “Of course, padre. I feel awesome, actually. I haven’t felt so light and lovely in a long time, it’s like all the love in me has finally found the chance to come singing to the surface, and all for Logan!” he clapped his hands together excitedly, expression shifting to something like a revelation as he looked back at Logan.

“That’s it! Logan, I’m going to compose a ballad in your name, expressing just how lovely you are! It could even be a duet. I know you aren’t too fond of singing, but it would be amazing if you’d sing this with me. You have such a beautiful singing voice, after all. Please, Logan, you’d be great at it, I know you will! You’re always so great at everything, and I would love to hear you sing with me!”

The distant sound of laughter made its way into the room, and Virgil turned to face Remus and Janus as they entered the kitchen.

“Oh, this is so much better than I thought it’d be,” Remus said with a laugh. “I just can’t get over the look on his face right now, he looks so stupid! He’s got no idea what happened!”

“What happened?” Logan asked, impatience evident in his voice.

“Oh, Logan, and here I thought you were clever enough to figure it out on your own,” Janus said with a condescending click of the tongue. “Remus put a love potion in the syrup, you see. While I did tell him that it was a bad idea at first, I must say I’ve since changed my mind.”

Virgil stared at them in shock. Janus had to be lying. Remus wouldn’t actually, he didn’t-

“Okay, this has gone way too far, you guys. I know you like to pull some really nasty stuff, but this is so not funny,” Virgil said, voice low and rumbling with anger.

“Oh, no, you’re right, Virge. It’s not funny, it’s fucking hilarious,” Remus cackled.

“What the hell is he talking about,” Roman said as he stood up from his chair. His expression changed from lovesick to furious, moving protectively in front of Logan with his sword in hand. “You should leave while you can before I cut you down. You don’t get to mess with Logan, not today. Now go while I’m giving you the chance. That goes for you too, snake,” he snarled.

Remus gave him a mockingly patronizing smile and a shrug before turning and strolling away with Janus in tow. Their laughter never quieted even after they had gone back upstairs. Roman sighed in relief once they had left, before looking back at Logan again.

“Are you alright, Logan? You know I wouldn’t let either of them try anything on you, right?”

Logan was unphased by the sudden appearance of the two sides, though he was definitely more focused on Roman. He stood up from his chair to better look Roman in the eye. “Did you not hear what Janus had said,” he started, keeping his voice even to ensure Roman listened. “Remus put a love potion in the syrup. You are currently under the effect of a drug; whatever it is you are feeling isn’t real. Please tell me you understand.”

Roman definitely understood him, going by the confused and conflicted look on his face as the words sunk in. It didn’t look like he accepted it, though.

“But this love is real, Logan,” he asserted. He took Logan’s hands into his own, looking down at them with teary eyes. “I know for a fact what love feels like. I’ve been feeling it for years now and this is that same love, just stronger and directed at you now. It won’t go away and I can’t stop feeling it, I’ve tried. I know that you probably want me to stop this, and I doubt you feel the same way about me, but I still feel love for you, and I can’t change that.”

Logan nodded before gently removing his hands from Roman’s. “I’m going to go talk to Janus and Remus to see if they’ll tell me how to undo the potions effects. Can you please wait here until I get back? I won’t be gone very long.”

Roman looked back at him, skepticism warring with loyalty. “How do you know they won’t try to hurt you? I think I ought to go with you just to make sure you’re safe,” he offered.

“I doubt they’ll do anything else today. Even if they did, they aren’t capable of actually hurting me. I will be fine, I promise. Just wait here for me, alright?”

Roman hesitantly nodded, watching as Logan made his way up the stairs before obediently taking a seat. Patton offered him a fresh pancake to comfort him while Virgil made himself busy tossing the syrup coated ones in the trash before anyone else could eat them.

He tried to ignore the slight shakiness in his hands, forcing himself to take a deep breath to steady himself. So Roman was in love with Logan now. Even if it wasn’t real, it was still real to Roman, and it might even be permanent. He could be like this forever. He tried to be positive about it, tried to feel happy that Roman could be this happy and in love after feeling so down lately, but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. How far would this “love” go? Does Logan feel the same, and if he doesn’t how would Roman cope with that kind of rejection? Roman could be angry or hurt, he might never be able to recover from the love potion if that happens. It could turn into obsession, he could become hateful towards anyone he thinks is trying to take Logan from him.

Even if the potion could be reversed, how would it effect Roman afterwards? This is basically a roofie; he could do something he’d regret, and if he did would he even remember what happened? Could it wear off at all? It might be permanent, he might be like this forever now, utterly devoted to Logan in a way he had never been before. He didn’t even realize he had been holding his breath until the burning in his lungs forced a gasp from him.

He turned back to the other sides in the kitchen as he finished putting the now empty dish in the sink. Roman looked lost in thought, barely even looking at Patton, who was currently trying to say anything he could think of to make him feel better. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He was worried too, though he was better at dealing with it.

“Now I know you said this love feels real to you, kiddo, but could you explain it to me please?” he asked, neither of them touching their now cooled pancakes.

“I don’t know how to put it into words, Patton,” Roman started, losing himself to the potions effects again as a wistful smile made its way to his face. “It’s like I look at him and everything just feels so much more… vibrant. Everything he does is just so brilliant, and I can’t get myself to look away from him, let alone stop thinking about him. When he looks at me, I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster. It makes me want to do anything to make him happy just so I can keep seeing him smile. Have you ever felt anything like that before?”

“No,” Patton replied.

Yes, Virgil thought.

Logan returned shortly after, looking slightly weary though he did his best not to show it. He adjusted his tie as he descended the stairs, and Roman lit up all over again the second he saw him.

“It appears this potion is not designed to be permanent,” he started, much to Virgil's relief. “However, Remus was decidedly unclear on how or when it would wear off. He seemed to imply that there was some cure, but he did not elaborate on it no matter how much I asked.”

“So, it’s basically permanent, then,” Virgil mumbled. “If there’s a cure, but we don’t know it or have it, then there’s nothing we can do to fix it. He’ll just be stuck like this forever if we can’t figure out the cure. He may never go back to normal.” He could feel the panic building again, he didn’t want Roman to be under these effects forever.

Logan gave him a knowing look. “Virgil, I doubt this will be a completely permanent change. It will probably wear off eventually, and if not then I will still be working on crafting an antidote the whole time. Remus said there was a cure, and we will find it. He will be alright.”

“Of course I’m alright,” Roman interjected. “Nothing about me has changed, my love is still just as real as it has always been. I may start feeling it towards Logan now, but these feelings are nothing new to me. I know for a fact that this love is not going anywhere, never has, never will.”

Roman had to be delirious. He didn’t love Logan, right? He’d have said something, done something, to let his feelings slip if he had really been feeling them all this time like he said he did.

Patton seemed to share Virgil's confusion. “Kiddo, what do you mean when you keep saying that you’ve had these feelings for a long time?” he asked.

“I mean that I’ve been in love this whole time, it’s just that now I’m in love with Logan.”

… what?

“Who were you in love with before?” Virgil whispered.

Roman took his eyes off of Logan for a moment, screwing his face in concentration. “I… don’t know. It’s all kind of fuzzy, I just know I’m in love and that Logan is who I feel that love for now.”

He looked back up, taking in the shock and confusion on everyones faces. And the dread that was probably on Virgil's. “I don’t mean to make this all so complicated, I really can’t help feeling this way about him.” He turned back in his chair to face Logan. “I know it’s a long shot, but… do you happen to feel that way about me at all?”

He looked hopeful, but full of doubt at the same time. Virgil didn’t know which would be worse to hear, Logan rejecting him or reciprocating. All eyes were on Logan now, curious on how he would answer this heavy question.

“I’m very sorry but I don’t feel the same way about you, Roman,” he said, voice soft and sympathetic. “I know you feel very strongly towards me right now, but it is a feeling I do not share.”

Roman's face fell. He looked down at his hands in his lap, quiet for a moment. “I kind of figured,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s alright, though. You don’t have to pretend to like me back. Just know that I’m still in love with you, Logan. I hope that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be,” Logan replied. “It is obvious that you cannot control these feelings, regardless of whether they are real or not. I need to find the cure for the potion. Would you like to take your mind off things and watch a movie downstairs while I work?”

The movie played out with little interruption. Patton kept trying to prompt Roman to talk about the movie, but his attention was elsewhere. He kept checking the stairs to see if Logan had come back yet, despite knowing that he would probably be busy for the rest of the day.

Roman slowly nodded, getting up from his chair and heading to the living room. Patton and Virgil followed while Logan grabbed the syrup and left to his room to run some tests.

Virgil couldn’t help but worry about him. Logan had told him that he would figure out a way to cure him and knowing him he’d find an answer in no time, but seeing Roman so… off, really irked him. He was like a lovesick puppy or a middle school dork dealing with their first real crush, all fidgety and constantly looking for ways to talk about the side he had fallen for.

He wanted to feel supportive of him, he really did. It was probably good for Roman to feel so happy, but there was this nagging voice in the back of Virgil's skull that itched away at him.

Roman had said that he felt this before, that he had been in love this whole time. Roman was already in love with someone else, and the potion probably just redirected his affections. The realization sat heavy on Virgil's chest. He couldn’t love Virgil anyway, not when he already loved someone else. Was it Patton? It’d make sense. The two usually got along pretty well, and they definitely had a lot more in common. He absolutely despised Janus, and since it looks like he didn’t feel this way about Logan until this morning it wasn’t him either. It had to be Patton, then.

Well maybe when this is over, he and Patton could be happy together. They’d have picnics and dance together at one of Roman's fancy balls and do all of the sappy things that people do when they’re in love. If Patton loved Roman back, Virgil would be happy for them.

Oh, who was he kidding? He’d be fucking miserable, and then he’d hate himself for being so selfish that he can’t even be happy for his friends. Why did he have to go and catch these stupid feelings for Roman? He didn’t feel the same, they were just too different. Virgil would never be comfortable dancing in a crowded castle with Roman, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming about enjoying a concert with him. Not like that would ever happen, especially not now.

“What’s on your mind, Virgil?” Patton asked from his spot on the couch.

Virgil looked up in surprise. He hadn’t even realized how quiet he’d become, absently chewing his nails while his mind ran itself in circles over something that couldn’t be helped.

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing. I guess I zoned out,” he said.

“Now I get it that you’re probably worried about Roman, but Logan is figuring it out right now. He’ll be okay, we just gotta hold on for a bit and then everything will be back to normal in no time.”

Roman perked back up at the mention of Logan's name. “Do you think he’ll be joining us for the next movie?” he asked. “We could play one of his favorite shows, and I won’t interrupt or talk over it if he doesn’t want. As long as he’s here with me, that’s all that really matters right now.”

Virgil felt restless. He couldn’t just keep listening to Roman ramble on about someone he thought he loved right next to the person he was actually in love with and the person he could never love back. It hurt too much. He got up from the couch and made his way upstairs.

“I’ll go check in on him,” he said. “He’s probably still pretty busy, though.”

“Can I go with you?” Roman called after him, already getting up to follow. “I want to see him, too. I miss him, and I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Well, we can’t all go,” Virgil replied, stopping and turning to face Roman.

“Then you can stay and watch the movie and I’ll go check on Logan,” he offered.

Virgil wanted to argue, but it was clear that Roman wasn’t going to back down. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Just don’t be gone too long. He still needs to work.”

He moved back to the couch while Roman all but raced upstairs in search of Logan. Virgil sat back down with Patton and tried to keep watching the movie.

“What’s bothering you, kiddo?” Patton asked him, voice gentle and reassuring.

Virgil let out a dry chuckle at being read so easily. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, while you aren’t usually talkative, you seem a lot quieter today. Is it about Roman?”

Virgil couldn’t do much more than nod, keeping his gaze focused on his hands instead of Patton. “I want him to be okay,” he admitted.

“Oh, sweetie, he’s fine. Everything’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”

Virgil could only hope so, but even if they could cure Roman, there was still the matter of what he would do about the love he felt. And who he felt it to.

“Patton, do you like Roman?” he hesitantly asked, unsure how he wanted him to answer.

“Well, of course I do, kiddo. I like Roman just as much as I like you and Logan and everyone else. He’s a part of this family, and so are you,” he said with a wide, if slightly stressed, smile.

“That’s not what I meant,” Virgil clarified. “I mean, do you like him? Like, the way he says he likes Logan right now? Do you have feelings for him?”

Patton looked like a deer in headlights, to the point that Virgil could practically see the blue-screen flash across his forehead. He blinked rapidly, wrapping his brain around the question.

“Well, no, not really. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of way towards anyone before, but I know I definitely don’t feel that way about Roman. Why are you asking me that?”

Virgil swallowed, processing what Patton had said. “Nothing, I was just curious I guess.”

He didn’t say anything after that, and Patton thankfully didn’t try to ask him about it either. If Patton didn’t like Roman back, then how would that change things? Surely Roman would eventually try to ask him out after he was cured, and when Patton rejected him he could be heartbroken. Virgil almost wanted to tell Roman now, when it wouldn’t hurt him that much, but it probably wasn’t the best time. He may not remember it after anyway. Maybe he’ll tell him later and hope for the best.

The credits finished rolling and Roman still hadn’t returned. It wasn’t too surprising, all things considered, since Roman had been practically vibrating in his seat without Logan around for him to stare at and compliment. He was probably bothering Logan right now and stopping him from getting anything done. It was best to get Roman away before he smothered him.

“I’m gonna go get Roman, you pick the next movie,” Virgil said as he headed back up the stairs. Patton nodded and started rifling through the DVDs, probably picking another cartoon.

Virgil finally reached Logan's door and knocked, not having to wait long before he heard a familiar and monotone “Come in” in response.

He opened the door and almost had to do a double take.

Roman had his back to the door, arms wrapped tightly around Logan in a warm and supporting hug. Logan was looking at Virgil from over his shoulder with a face of sheer exasperation, arms stiffly planted on Roman's back in a half-hearted attempt at a reciprocal embrace.

“Did you need something Virgil, or are you here for Roman?” he nonchalantly asked, as if he weren’t currently being held tightly by the romantic side.

“I, uh... I was coming to see why he was gone so long. I figured he might be distracting you from working,” he stuttered out, struggling to regain his bearings at the odd sight.

“Well, he has certainly occupied my attention for longer than I had hoped, though I doubt it could be helped. He seemed quite upset at being away from me for as long as he was. Another side effect of the potion, I’d gather,” he answered, finally untangling himself from Roman.

Roman let out a desperate whine at the loss of contact, looking back at Logan with a hurt expression. “I’m sorry, specs. I just couldn’t stand to be away from you for so long. Without you everything was just so dull and cold, I simply had to be around you again.”

“That’s very sweet, but I need to work. If you would prefer it, I can try to move some of my things to the living room and work there, but you will need to let me focus. Can you do that?”

Roman nodded eagerly in response.

“Good, then please go and get the common room set up for me downstairs and I will join you there shortly,” Logan said, and Roman practically tripped over his own feet as he headed back down the hall, glancing back at Logan and smiling the whole time.

Logan sighed and sat back down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really looked exhausted, and Virgil wondered whether he should stay or leave him be.

“The answer is no, by the way,” Logan groaned, not looking up at him.

“What?”

“No, I haven’t been able to find any cure or antidote to the potion. Remus may very well be trying to fool me, a figurative ‘wild goose chase’, if you will.”

Virgil tried not to look too worried, though he was sure it was obvious anyway. “Okay, do you think I can go and try to get some answers out of him? I could help out, maybe.”

Logan finally glanced up at him, a tired smile on his face. “I’d appreciate that, Virgil. As long as we can restore Roman to his natural, albeit obnoxious, state of mind.”

Virgil nodded, desperate to make this whole nightmare go away. It looked like Logan was feeling pretty fed up with this whole thing, too. Though it was probably for a different reason.

Logan sighed again, glancing away for a moment as if lost in thought. “I can’t exactly say I’ll enjoy that part of our lives returning to normal, though. As overbearing as he can be right now, it is still somewhat pleasant to hear him say something nice about me for a change. Even if he doesn’t really mean it or know what he’s saying at all.” He smiled to himself, as if he had forgotten that Virgil was still in the room with him. When he finally remembered that he wasn’t alone in the room, he straightened up in his chair and started to gather what he would need downstairs.

“It doesn’t really matter, anyway,” he added in a rush. “Roman is not in his right mind at the moment, it is best not to take anything he is saying seriously. He’s allowed to say or feel whatever he wants about me after we cure him. He’s his own person, with his own opinions on the people he’s around, and this will not change any of that.” He herded Virgil out of his room while he carried an armload of supplies and notes, carefully returning to the living room without dropping his things. “If you get any information out of Janus or Remus, let me know.” He called back at him as he left.

Virgil stayed there in the hall, taking in all that Logan had said. Had Roman really been upsetting him this whole time? Seeing him like this must be unreal to him, finally hearing a compliment from the person who teased him daily, only to know that the flattery was fake? He couldn’t imagine how badly that must hurt for him.

He shivered slightly to himself before going to Janus’ room. What happened between them still hurt years later, but he at least knew how to deal with him. He had dealt with him long enough to recognize the lies from the truth, and he needed answers.

He banged loudly on the door, not letting up until it was finally opened. By Remus, who was in the room with Janus. Great.

“Geez, Virge, the hell is your problem,” he whined. “Did someone swap the stick up your butt with a scorpion or something?”

Janus chuckled from behind him.

“The real question is what the hell is your problem,” he growled. “Why’d you go and do that to Roman, huh? Is this just some sick joke to you?”

“Well, yeah,” he answered, almost proud of himself. “I didn’t plan for it to be Roman that took the potion though, it was all random so whoever had some syrup first would get fucked up.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. It was pretty clear he wouldn’t get a reason out of him. The best he could hope to get would be a cure, or the answer to how to make one.

“Can you just fucking tell me how to get him back to normal?” he pleaded, wincing at the pathetic begging he had reduced himself to. “There’s got to be a cure or antidote or something, and you have to tell me what it is so I can help clean up the mess you started.”

Remus stared right through him, smiling to himself as he kept the answer hidden.

“Alright, Remus, that’s enough,” Janus interrupted, finally joining them and including himself in the standoff. “If he wants the cure so badly, we’ll give it to him.”

Virgil’s shoulders sagged with relief. Maybe now Janus would actually be willing to cooperate and stop playing around with him.

“You see, Virgil, I know the true answer is something you’ll love, so here it is: the solution has been hiding in plain sight all along. It’s been kept secret by the only person who can help him. Show it to him and he’ll remember what the real target of his affection is supposed to be.”

Ok, so maybe not.

“What the hell does that mean?” Virgil groaned in frustration.

“You’ll have to figure it out on your own. After all, I think you already know the answer.”

Janus gave him one last smirk before closing the door on him, the sound of Remus’ laughter echoing from behind it. Well, that didn’t help him at all. What did he mean about it hiding in plain sight? Who was hiding it? And show what to who? Janus said he’d love the truth, but this was just another confusing riddle. It didn’t even make any sense. His best guess was that Remus had hidden an antidote somewhere, but if that was the case then there was no way he’d be able to find it.

God, Roman was screwed.

Virgil stomped back to the couch in a huff, not returning Patton’s friendly wave. He sat down and ran his hands through his hair, desperately trying to make sense of what Janus had said.

“I’m guessing you were unsuccessful,” Logan stated.

Virgil looked over to him and his reply died on his tongue in an instant. Logan was sitting in Roman’s lap, focusing on his findings ever so stoically while Roman held him close with a sappy expression.

“Uhm, not really… sorry, why are you in his lap?” he asked.

Logan looked up at him, no more pleased about the situation than Virgil was. “It was the only way to keep him happy while I focused on my work instead of him,” he explained.

“Hey, that’s not true,” Roman chimed in, squeezing Logan tighter. “I said that you were fine sitting where you were, but when you offered to get all cozy with me I wasn’t gonna complain.”

“Right, because you were complaining before,” Logan replied, “in fact, you were so upset that I wasn’t paying attention to you that you kept trying to sit closer to me until being in your lap like this was inevitable. At least now you’re letting me work uninterrupted.”

Roman looked like he was about to say something in his defense, but he decided against it. He quietly tucked his head into Logan's shoulder instead, humming at the contact.

Logan glanced back at Virgil, avoiding moving his head too much to not disrupt Roman. “Did either of them tell you anything useful?” he asked.

Virgil shook his head. “If he did, I can’t make any sense of it. It was something about the answer hiding in plain sight, and that the only one who’ll help him knows the secret. He said if we show it to him then he’ll remember what he really feels, or something like that.”

Logan sighed. “Well, that was hardly helpful.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Virgil. Roman was practically glued to Logan's side, flirting and cuddling with him every chance he got. Patton tried to pretend everything was normal, and Virgil kept replaying what Janus had told him. The cure is hidden away, and one of the sides knows how to use it to help. The only thing is, who the hell is it? Janus and Remus obviously weren’t helping, and Patton and Logan were just as in the dark about it as Virgil was.

“I thought the same thing,” he replied.

Patton made dinner and as everyone ate it became obvious that unless they did something about Roman he was going to be like this for a while. It took Logan moving to sit on the other end of the table for Roman to stop trying to do some Lady and the Tramp bit with him.

Logan had no solutions or cures yet, and Virgil still couldn’t figure out the answer to the riddle that Janus had told him. Janus and Remus decided to stick around after dinner and joined the others for a movie night, presumably just to laugh at how Roman was acting. Roman chased them off halfway through the movie, accusing them of antagonizing Logan. They were actually laughing at how Roman was behaving, but Virgil still appreciated having them gone for the night.

It was now well past time for Virgil to go to bed, but he couldn’t get himself to move from the couch. Everyone else had gone to bed by now, save for Logan and Roman, as the former had still wanted to find a solution and the latter refused to go to bed until he did. Roman was still pressed to Logan's side, idly playing with his hair while he continued to gaze fondly at him as if he had hung the stars in the night sky. Virgil wondered if he looked at Roman like that. He secretly wished Roman would look at him like that. Sometimes he almost thought he did.

It was probably best for him to go to bed before he thought about that too much. He wished the other two goodnight before heading to his room, where he would at least try to pretend to sleep. He closed the door behind him and prepared to wind down for the night when his eyes fell upon the gift Roman had given him. Lightning in a bottle, proof that Roman enjoyed his company.

Virgil stared at the bottle, memories of his time with Roman flashing back to him. Smiles only he would see, countless hours spent in each other’s company, presents and promises shared in private. Roman had shown him the same kindness and care that he is showing Logan now. The way he smiled at Logan was the same as how he smiled and laughed when he was alone with Virgil. The compliments and encouragement were just like the same sweet words they had shared.

That couldn’t be right, he had to be mistaken. That would mean that Roman actually…

He grabbed the bottle and sprinted back to the living room, back to Roman.

Logan looked up at him in surprise when he made it back downstairs, but Virgil didn’t give him a chance to say anything. He had to take care of this before he could overthink it.

“Logan, can you please give me a minute to talk to Roman? Alone?”

Logan quirked an eyebrow, before extricating himself from Roman and wordlessly making his way to bed for the night. Roman was about to follow him, but Logan motioned for him to stay behind. He obeyed, though he looked pained by doing so.

“Virgil, what’s going on?” he asked after Logan left. “Why’d you tell him to leave like that?”

“This is important, okay?” Virgil started. He had no idea what he was doing, or how to do it, but he had to try. He took a seat on the couch next to Roman and held out the bottle. “Do you remember what this is?” he asked.

Roman eyed it curiously, confusion slowly turning into recognition as his eyes brightened up at the memory. “Yeah, that’s right. You went and said you had better luck catching lightning in a bottle than finding someone who liked you, and I wanted to prove a point.”

“And what point was that?”

Roman blinked for a second as he tried to piece it together. “I remember how I wanted to show you that there are people out there that like being around you.”

“Like who?” he prodded, trying to get Roman to verbalize the answer he couldn’t bring himself to admit. “Roman, are you saying that this was because you like me?”

Roman furrowed his brow, as if struggling with some internal conflict. “I know I think highly of you, but it all feels hazy. I can’t put it to words right without losing what I was thinking about. Then I just start thinking of Logan again,” he said, a smile returning to his face at the name.

Virgil stared at him, pieces falling into place at last. “Roman, was it love? Is that what you felt for me? What you have been feeling for me?” he asked, voice stifled with emotion.

Roman looked lost as countless emotions dancing across his face. After a beat he finally answered, voice low. “I think so. It feels right, even though it’s still foggy. But I do think it was love.”

The butterflies returned to Virgil’s stomach with a vengeance, stealing his breath and choking him. He felt electrified and lightweight and breathless and alive all at once, leaving him little room left for rational thought. Roman loved him. He was in love with him.

“I’m in love with you too,” he managed to whisper, confessing it like it was a prayer.

All at once the potions foggy haze in Roman's eyes lifted, swiftly replaced by a hopeful disbelief. A grin slowly formed on his face, that same lovestruck look that he had given Logan in the kitchen. Only now it was being directed at Virgil.

“Virgil… you love me? You actually love me back?”

Virgil didn’t trust himself to speak, only nodding in confirmation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he said with a breathless laugh.

He pulled Virgil into a tight embrace, hugging him fiercely as Virgil felt his heart skip a beat. Roman loved him back, he loved him and the potion had been cured because of it.

For once Virgil felt completely optimistic, and he knew he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

@britt-ish123 @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @keitaisghost @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @nico-the-overlord @rougeside4 @new-zee-land @can-i-take-a-stab

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #my fic #i hope this is good

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wolfprincesszola · 3 months ago

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Echoes of 50 Masterlist

Hello everyone! This is a work that's been in the making for a little over 5 months now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, as it is only one of the amazing fics of this year's Big Bang Event hosted at @tss-storytime! As with every big bang event, there's always an artist and I'm so lucky to have worked with @thebestworstidea. The art she did for my story is absolutely phenomenal, so go check her out! ------------ Summary: Logan Sanders had spent his entire life hearing thoughts from everyone around him: strangers, family, friends, and more. He had learned more about people than he ever wanted to hear, but it became very useful when it came to gaining useful information.

His one goal in life? Find out what the government filled to the brim with powerless people has in store for him and the rest of the population with powers and stop it from happening.

Which was why it was even weirder when he had run into the prettiest man he had ever seen who just so happened to have the answers he might have been searching for. Unfortunately for him and for some frustratingly unknown reason, Patton Morris was immune to his telepathy.

The worst part? This cute guy seemed to be completely opposed against the government just as much as he was. Now it was up to him to decide if Patton was telling the truth and if Logan was to trust him in his crazy plans to try and overthrow the government. ------------

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Remus, Janus, Virgil, Thomas, Emilie, Remy, Unsympathetic!Joan, Unsympathetic!Talyn, Unsympathetic!Orange Side, Unsympathetic!Friends_of_Thomas

Pairings: Logan/Patton (Logicality), Background Roman/Virgil (Prinxiety), Background Remus/Janus (Dukeceit), Hidden Remy/Emilie (Remilie)

Word Count: 55,210

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death, Medical Trauma, Experimentation, Panic Attacks, Emotional Trauma, Abuse, Manipulation, Neglect

Content Warnings: Food, Swearing, Fighting

Art by @thebestworstidea

Read it at archiveofourown (click the underlined)!

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rosepetalgold · 1 year ago

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the art of saying goodbye

Summary: Remus expects a lot of things from the Queen Anne Victorian house he’s just purchased—a restoration project to occupy his time, some peace and quiet from nosy neighbors, a chance to brag about being a homeowner before his goody two-shoes brother.

What he doesn’t expect is for the property to come with a very real, very curious ghost. But what is he supposed to do, just ignore the spirit? That'd be nothing short of rude, especially considering that the specter's fascination with modern science and penchant for hijacking Remus' technology proves unfairly endearing.

But even as their unlikely friendship grows, so too do the questions swirling in Remus’ mind: Why is Logan still haunting the place he used to live? Who is the mysterious Janus he refuses to talk about? And what will it take for the ghost to finally find peace with the life and the love that were stolen from him so long ago?

Relationships: Platonic Intrulogical, past romantic Loceit, background romantic Prinxiety

Warnings for this chapter: None!

Word Count: 7000

Notes: My fic for this year's @sandersidesbigbang, aka another angsty tale that inexplicably grew out of a single fluffy scene, aka a prime excuse to procrastinate by poring through countless photos of beautiful Queen Anne houses my beloved. I hope you enjoy this ghostie story as much I enjoyed writing it! A big shoutout to my wonderful beta reader @dragonsaphirareads for all their feedback on this fic, and don't miss the amazing art by the incredible @casart and @onthevirgeofdestruction—you can check out their pieces here and here! (Seriously, even if you don't read the fic, go feast your eyes on their work because it is straight-up stunning. Go look, you'll see.)

Read on Ao3 Masterpost

start (you’re here!) - next

“This place is definitely haunted.”

Remus snorts, giving his brother a friendly sock in the arm.

“Oh come on, Ro, you scared of a few ghosties now? Afraid a floating white sheet is gonna jump out and yell boo?”

Roman doesn’t answer, just eyes the Queen Anne Victorian home in front of them with the amount of trepidation he usually reserved for any time Remus started a sentence with ‘I have an idea.’ The house does give off distinctly spooky vibes, Remus has to admit, what with its boards in desperate need of a new coat of paint and its broken window in the attic, not to mention the porch that looks liable to send someone plummeting to the ground if they take a single wrong step, but what was wrong with any of that? It all just added to the building’s character, and the risk of falling through the veranda was a delightful way to keep visitors on their toes, in his superior opinion.

And besides, he couldn’t turn his nose up at the property’s many flaws when they made it dirt-cheap. He wasn’t exactly a millionaire.

He grabs Roman’s arm, tugging him forward.

“C’mon, there’s some wicked spindlework on the back you gotta check out.”

His brother makes a sound of protest, dragging his feet as Remus hauls him onward.

“Aren’t we going to go inside?”

“Nah, I don’t have the keys yet. Everything’s still pending or whatever.”

Roman shifts his incredulous gaze from the house to Remus.

“You made me come all this way just to look at the outside of a house you haven’t even officially bought yet?”

Why yes, he had. He was such a good brother.

“Don’t act like it’s such a burden to drive twenty minutes out of the way to get here, especially when it means you’re twenty minutes closer to a booty call with Virgil.”

Roman splutters, face flushing a splendidly scandalized shade of crimson, and Remus cackles. That was more like it.

“Now c’mon c’mon c’mon, the sooner you ooh and aah over all my cool house shit, the sooner you can get some of that good di—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Roman interrupts, slapping his hands over his ears, but he doesn’t protest as Remus pulls him around to the back of the house and points out the expansive if overgrown backyard, the plethora of decorative elements adorning the home, the leaded glass windows that have survived well over a century.

“I don’t get it, though,” Roman says as he eyes the tower gracing the corner of the house, something Remus would swear is a hint of jealousy in his gaze. Made sense. He knows for a fact his brother would sell his soul to be Rapunzel. “If this is such a nice place, why has it sat empty for so long?”

“Dunno. The realtor just said it stayed in the family of the guy who built it for a while before changing hands a bunch. Apparently every time it’s been on the market it’s taken ages to find a buyer, but she didn’t really say why no one wanted to live here for too long.” Probably just her trying not to scare him away from what was clearly a substantial restoration project so she wouldn’t lose her commission. Either that or there was some kind of toxic fungus in the walls that had taken over all the previous residents’ brains and turned them into zombies and Remus was about to become its next victim.

What a delightful gamble to find out which one it was.

“Can we please go now before some serial killer comes charging out of this place and we both end up on the news?” Roman asks, already edging back towards the front of the house.

“Sure, if you really want to give up your one shot of having your fifteen minutes of fame in the media,” Remus replies, dancing away with a grin as Roman aims a kick at his shins. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. I wouldn’t want to keep you from a hot date and some—”

Something catches his attention, a flash of movement out of the very corner of his eye, and he pauses mid-stride, doing a double-take at the second-story balcony overlooking the backyard.

Nothing. Not even a curtain blowing in the non-existent breeze.

“What?” Roman questions from where he’s also stopped a few yards ahead of him.

Remus looks a moment longer, searching for anything out of place, but all is still.

“Nothing. Probably just a bat or something. Wouldn’t that be cool as shit, to have bats as roommates? Hey, maybe they have rabies if they’re out in the daytime. Did you know…”

He launches into a spiel of the most gruesome and fascinating facts he knows about the disease, joyfully watching his brother’s face grow increasingly horrified with each one as they make their way back across the yard, and by the time they reach the driveway, the flicker of movement is barely a blip on his mental radar.

Just a trick of his eyes, surely.

It wasn’t like houses could actually be haunted, after all.

---

Home sweet home.

Or home rundown-and-slightly-musty-smelling home, as the case may be, but who was Remus to nitpick?

He fits his shiny new key into the lock and steps inside, letting the door click shut solidly behind him as he pauses just over the threshold, taking a moment to survey the foyer. His foyer now, in his very own home. The sale had been endless offers and counteroffers and a mountain of paperwork so large he’s positive he could have buried himself beneath it and never been seen again, but the place is finally his.

Him, a homeowner. Who’d have thunk it. He’ll be rubbing this in Roman’s apartment-renting face every chance he can get, thank you very much. It’s the least he can do, really.

He unceremoniously deposits the cardboard box in his arms on the floor and wanders further inside, trailing his hand along the smooth wood of the stair banister as he passes. He’s supposed to be meeting some of his friends back at his old place shortly—or now, actually, but that was wholly irrelevant—to start moving all of his worldly possessions into his fancy new abode, but he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of taking the first load of boxes alone just to have the place to himself for a bit; he could use a few minutes to enjoy the space in peace before it’s filled with Roman and Virgil squabbling about the worst Disney movie heroes or whatever argument they were bound to get into.

Despite its well-worn exterior, the house is in surprisingly good condition inside, he muses as he roams through the empty rooms. There’s clearly extensive work that needs to be done if he wants to restore the place to its Victorian glory, an ambitious undertaking he knows will be neither cheap nor easy, but the bones of the structure are all solid, especially considering how many years it’s stood empty.

He finishes his meandering loop around the first floor and heads up the stairs, the tread of his steps entirely too loud for the pervasive quiet as he continues his exploratory wandering through the second story rooms. He pauses as he reaches what is clearly the master bedroom, surveying the original fireplace, the century-old hardwood, the attached balcony that was just begging to be used to pour water onto his unsuspecting brother’s head. Shit, his new house was cool as fuck.

It’d make the most sense to start hauling his load of boxes here, considering that’s where most of his crap is going to end up eventually, but the longer he hovers in the doorway, the more something feels … off. Just the slightest tingle prickling down his spine, and not the good kind. He steps inside and the temperature drops noticeably, a chill raising the hair on his arms.

“The fuck?” he mutters, raking his gaze over the windows in search of damaged panes letting in a breeze, but everything is intact.

He advances another step on impulse and the pinpricks dancing along his vertebrae only grow stronger, now accompanied by the distinct feeling he’s being watched. He scans the room again, slower this time, but there’s no furniture, no closet, not so much as a nook or cranny for anyone or anything to hide. Even the ceiling is empty when he turns his gaze upwards on the off chance he really does have some bats hanging around that he’s somehow missed on his numerous pre-sale walk-throughs.

Nary a beady eye to be found and still the sensation of being in someone’s sights doesn’t lessen. Not that it’s a threatening feeling, exactly, just distinctly unsettling, like there’s someone behind him no matter how many times he glances over his shoulder and finds nothing but empty air.

But that was crazy. He’d read the final sale documents until his eyes had been about to start bleeding and he’s absolutely positive that the house hadn’t come with any roommates. He’s probably just imagining the feeling, the result of watching one too many horror movies in the last week or his brain making things up in an attempt to liven up the empty space.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes without even looking at the screen, already able to see the text from Roman in his mind’s eye: where you at?? i’m not packing up all your crap for you followed by an absurdly long string of emojis that basically constituted their own Roman-specific hieroglyphic language.

Time to face the moving-day music before Roman got annoyed enough with waiting that he rescinded his promise of free manual labor, then. Any investigations of potential invisible voyeurs would have to wait, no matter how titillating such a prospect sounded when he put it like that.

“You win for now, house,” he says into the quiet as he turns to leave, an edge of coldness still dancing along the goosebumps on his skin. “Keep your secrets. I’ll figure ‘em out eventually.”

---

The afternoon passes in a blur of hauling entirely too many heavy boxes and unwieldy pieces of furniture to the new house, and by the time night settles onto the horizon, Remus is utterly exhausted. He flops back on the couch, too tired to even think about putting his bedframe together, and he’s out in minutes.

He wakes disoriented, mind scrabbling blankly for a moment before the darkness coalesces into the still-unfamiliar contours of his sitting room. He just lies there for a moment, trying to figure out what’s roused him, but all is still. Just his brain deciding to deprive him of some tantalizingly horrifying nightmares, unfortunately—

Tap tap tap.

Remus bolts upright at the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hardwood upstairs, adrenaline surging in a dizzying rush. There hadn’t been any signs of a squatter all day, and surely he’d remembered to lock the doors so no one could steal all the crap he’d just spent a whole day of his life lugging around. He waits for a moment, holding his breath as silence falls, and just when he’s about to pass the whole thing off as his imagination playing tricks on him, the steps start up again, slow and rhythmic like someone is pacing on the upper level.

Fuck his luck. If someone is secretly living in the attic of his fancy new home, he’s not going to be pleased.

He rolls off the couch and snatches his phone off of one of the plethora of boxes waiting to be unpacked, debating whether to risk turning on the flashlight before deciding for it; he might give away any element of surprise with the beam, but he’s certain to give it away if he starts banging face-first into walls or cracking his skull open falling down the stairs. His eye catches on a glass paperweight on the coffee table, a characteristically pretentious housewarming present from Roman, who apparently thought Remus had so many papers flying about that he needed to corral them with a glorified rock, and he seizes it on a whim.

Makeshift weapon was a much more useful purpose for the thing than its intended function anyways.

He edges around the scattered boxes towards the stairs, careful to keep his steps light and his hand shielding the light from his phone as the footfalls continue overhead, and makes it all the way up the steps without so much as a creak to give him away.

Flawless. He knew all those times sneaking up behind Roman to scare the shit out of him as kids would pay off someday.

He pauses on the landing to triangulate the noise, then creeps down the hall towards the footsteps as the sound grows even more distinct. The master bedroom again? What the actual fuck was going on with that room? Had he really managed to miss someone in there when he’d investigated earlier in the day? No, he couldn’t have, but then how had someone managed to get past where he’d been sleeping on the couch? Unless he really did have somebody living in the walls—

A floorboard squeaks underneath his foot, deafeningly loud in the quiet of the night, and the footsteps abruptly stop. Remus swears under his breath. Traitorous piece of wood. Now or never, then.

He lunges forward into the doorway of the master bedroom, raising the paperweight and howling a war cry as he swings his light across the room to reveal—

Nothing. The space is as entirely and utterly empty as it had been that morning.

Well, shit. There went any element of surprise he had left.

He darts back into the hall, racing to search through the rest of the rooms on the upper level one by one, but they’re all just as vacant as the first. He even hauls himself into the attic, bracing himself to be clubbed over the head by whoever is lurking, but with the exception of innumerable shadows billowing away from his flashlight, the space proves equally empty as the rest.

Unease stirs in his gut, creeping in alongside the lingering adrenaline as he makes his way back down the precariously rickety ladder into the main house. Surely there’s no way someone could have gotten past him, not when he would have heard them in the hall or going down the stairs.

And yet, as far as he can tell, besides a few mice tucked away in the attic, there isn’t another living soul in the house.

He stops in the doorway of the master bedroom again, staring inside. He’s positive this is where the footsteps had been emanating from, lack of proof be damned. Something weird was going on with this house.

Good thing Remus had just made the biggest financial commitment of his life to buy it.

Nothing for it now but to hope some elusive, wall-dwelling ax murderer doesn’t give him the chop in his sleep, he supposes, although he has to admit that’d be a badass way to go.

He reluctantly makes his way back downstairs and shoves a pile of boxes at the foot of the stairs to trip any nefarious intruders coming down, then retreats back to the couch, all the while keeping his ears primed for so much as a whisper of sound above him.

But even though it takes him a long time to drift back to sleep, the house around him remains as silent as a grave.

---

The whole thing must have been an impressively lucid dream, Remus decides the next morning. A second investigation in the light of day doesn’t reveal anything out of place: no shoe prints on the floor, no critters, certainly no people. It was probably nothing then, he tries to convince himself, just his overactive imagination needing an outlet after being a bit too jittery from all the excitement of moving.

But he finds himself pausing in the master bedroom again, something drawing him back to the space. First the chill and the strange feeling of being watched, then the mysterious footsteps? Two separate coincidences, or something more?

God, he sounded about as paranoid as Virgil. Next thing he knew he was going to be inventing his very own conspiracy theory to explain a few bumps in the night.

It really was nothing, he tells himself, shaking off any lingering unease as he tromps back down the stairs. If he starts jumping at every little noise in his old-as-shit house, he’ll be long dead before he gets the property restored. If he starts seeing glowing red eyes in the dark, he’ll start to worry. Until then, he has a mountain of boxes to unpack.

Unfortunately, said mountain does not pull a Beauty and the Beast and begin unpacking itself, leaving Remus to spend a dreadfully dull afternoon doing it instead, only the allure of building a fort out of all the empty boxes keeping him from living out of cardboard for the rest of his life.

By the time he’s finally finished unboxing most of the downstairs and getting the tv and wifi set up, most of the day has passed him by, afternoon sunlight splaying golden fingers across the hardwood.

Break time, then. He’s earned it, if he does say so himself.

He collapses onto the couch, flipping on the tv and surfing through the channels until he finds a rerun of some low-budget horror film from the eighties. Perfect. Nothing like a bit of mindless tv to rot his brain just that much more. Settling back more comfortably into the cushions, he pops open the bag of chips he’s snagged from the kitchen and pulls out his phone, beginning to scroll through his notifications.

Modern multitasking at its finest, truly.

But he’s barely a minute into atrophying his mind via social media before the tv starts flickering, volume dropping precipitously before ratcheting back up, the picture jumping to the weather channel, then a British cooking show, then the news with Spanish subtitles flashing in and out at the bottom of the screen.

Remus freezes with a chip halfway to his mouth, staring at the remote where it’s very definitely out of his reach on the coffee table, all by its lonesome. He’s no expert, but he’s pretty sure technology was not, in fact, supposed to suddenly start functioning by itself without any human input. Was his new house secretly sitting over some freaky radioactive waste? That would certainly explain why no one had wanted to buy it. Or was this some EMP disaster? Had someone decided to take out the whole country’s power grid, starting with Remus’ shitty tv?

He sits up, reaching for the rogue remote, only to pause as a chill moves over him, then past him like it’s heading for the tv, and the screen crackles, static beginning to fuzz both the video and the audio as the picture continues to leap wildly between programs.

Fuck the remote, then. Whatever freak accident has descended upon his living room, it’s time to go straight to the source.

Abandoning his snack, he stands, striding to the outlet and yanking the plug out of the wall. Silence falls immediately, the screen fading to black, but there still lingers a noticeable chill in the air, cold energy palpable against his skin and all too reminiscent of the feeling he remembers from being in the master bedroom.

“What the hell,” he mutters under his breath, casting his gaze around the room. Empty, just as upstairs had been the last three times he’d checked. He takes a step backwards, then another, and the strange chill decreases. On a whim, he pulls out his phone, scrolling through several apps without even paying attention to them, and sure enough, the hair on his arms raises as the temperature falls again, that sparking feeling of energy growing more intense as his phone begins to flicker on its own.

“What the actual hell,” he whispers again. Roman can’t have been right—this place can’t actually be haunted. There’s absolutely no way there’s a real, live—or dead, technically, he supposes—ghost in his living room right now playing fuck-up-the-electronics.

But if there is…

“Hello?” he calls, and the flickering abruptly stops, chill retreating once more. Shit. One word in and apparently Remus has already fucked things up. “Hello?” he tries again. Did this maybe-possible-potential ghostie even speak English? “I’m Remus,” he says, feeling more than a little crazy for introducing himself to his empty living room. If Roman ever knew of this, he’d die laughing and then Remus really would have a ghost haunting his ass.

He wracks his brain for something to say. If he were a ghost and a stranger started moving all of their shit into his home, what would he want to hear from them?

“Um, cool house you have here. I’m not gonna like, fuck it up or anything.”

Silence.

“I’m planning on restoring it bit by bit as I have money so if you could tell me the original paint color or wallpaper patterns, that’d be dope.”

Still nothing. Apparently the ghost is not amused. Time for a different tactic, then.

“What’s your name?”

Not even a cricket chirping. Jesus fucking christ, Remus is really blowing this.

“That’s the tv—the television,” he explains, gesturing towards the device that had seemingly either fascinated or enraged his new housemate, he can’t quite tell which. “It works by… well, I don’t really know how it works. Something with waves and frequencies or some shit? But you can watch recordings, people acting or baking or doing dumb reality dating shows or whatever, so if there’s something that you wanna see…”

He trails off, surreptitiously scanning the room for any ethereal presences, but the house is quiet, the ghostly feeling fading bit by bit. Great. An actual paranormal experience and he’s gone and shoved his foot so far in his mouth he can practically feel his toes wiggling in his small intestine.

“Alright, that’s cool, no worries. Just lemme know if you change your mind.”

He waits a moment more, hoping for a disembodied voice to speak or an object to start moving on its own or his body to suddenly become possessed, but there’s nothing. Snagging his leather jacket off the back of the couch, he beelines for the door, forcing himself not to run as excitement begins to grow with every step, bubbling up around his bones. He has a ghost. A ghost, an actual fucking ghost, and he hadn’t even had to pay extra for it. No way he’s not going to take advantage of the universe handing him the sickest housewarming present in the world, never mind the fact that he might end up a walking meat suit for the spirit.

He pauses as he reaches the edge of the yard, then thinks better of it and pivots, heading for his car instead. Who knew how far ghost range was, and he doesn’t want his new roomie overhearing. He’s practically vibrating with energy as he makes his way down the long, winding drive, and he only makes it a few miles down the road before he’s pulling over onto the shoulder, hopefully well out of spirit range.

His first call rings through to voicemail, but Remus doesn’t bother leaving a message, just hangs up and tries again, only to be met with the same result. The third time, though, proves to be the charm.

“What,” the voice on the other end spits, cheerful as ever. “Fuck you, Remus, I’m in the middle of—”

“You’re still into all that weird stuff, right? Like the cryptids and the creepies and the ghouls and ghosties and all that?” Remus interrupts. He can deal with Virgil’s wrath another time—he has information he needs and he needs it pronto.

A pause, so long he’s sure Virgil has hung up on him and he’s going to have to keep calling until the emo answers his question.

“Yeah?” the distrustful reply finally comes, anger blunted by obvious wariness. “Why—”

“I need to pick your brain,” Remus cuts in again. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

---

Plan Contact The Resident Possibly Unfriendly Ghost Who Might Possess Him, or CTRPUGWMPH to be short and snappy about it, is officially a go.

Unfortunately, it isn’t off to a promising start.

Virgil’s knowledge had turned out to be more spirit lore than specifics about how to get a ghost to actually appear, although he’d been infinitely more helpful than Roman, who’d just stared at him and asked if he’d had the house checked for carbon monoxide poisoning. Remus had soundly ignored him and had left Virgil’s apartment with his head swimming with theories about why ghosts haunt particular places and an extensive lecture from Virgil about how to find any potential objects or reasons tying a ghost to the house that might provide a potential talking point to engage said ghost in conversation.

But despite digging into every crack and crevice on the internet, emailing the local historical society, even calling his realtor to ask again about the history of the property, Remus comes up with precious little. The house had originally been built in the 1880s by a local merchant, everyone seems to agree, and had been inherited by his nephew soon after, but beyond that there’s frustratingly scant information available, and he can’t find so much as a whisper about anyone dying in the home. His ghostie could be anyone, then: A Victorian builder who’d taken a tumble, a flapper girl who’d partied a tad too hard, a hapless victim of some modern serial killer who’d taken advantage of the place sitting abandoned for years to do a bit of light murdering.

With precisely zero context clues as to his new housemate’s identity, then, Remus embraces his remarkable talent of keeping up an entirely one-sided conversation as he works around the house the next few days, rambling about anything and everything related to the property he can think of, hoping something will pique the ghost’s interest. But besides a few more cold spots and flickering screens, the house remains stubbornly quiet. Maybe his ghost just needed a bit of help in communicating, though; drifting around an empty building with no one to talk to for the past god-knew-how-many years can’t have done good things to their incorporeal vocal cords.

Which brings him to Plan B: The infamous Ouija board, favorite tool of grifters and bullshit paranormalists everywhere.

And yet despite the makeshift, very high-budget seance he conducts with the two dollar board and the zero dollar candles he’s lovingly stolen from his brother, there’s once again no reply from beyond the veil besides a chill in the room that somehow radiates disapproval. Apparently his ghost isn’t a fan of pseudoscientific games any more than he is. At least they had standards, whoever they were.

But Remus is a stubborn bastard if he does say so himself, so on to Plan C it is. The used EMF meter he snags off of ebay has definitely seen better days, given the prominent crack across its screen, but the thing had been cheap and still seemed to work, so Remus wasn’t complaining. Fancy equipment was for fancy people, after all, and of all the things he’s ever been called, he’s positive fancy isn’t one of them. He sets up the device behind the tv, which still seems to intrigue his ghost every time it’s turned on, puts on the first show he can find, and forces himself to walk away. His little trap is set. Now all he has to do is bide his time pretending to busy himself unpacking a box of books in the next room—

He barely has the chance to register the tv screen flickering out of the corner of his eye before an ear-splitting shriek is rending the air, startling him so violently that he promptly drops a hefty tome on his foot.

“Shit,” he breathes, surging back into the living room, but the noise has already stopped just as suddenly as it began, replaced by a frigid chill permeating the room. Maybe he should have thought twice about scaring the resident phantom without first hiding any of his valuables. Hopefully he won’t wake up tomorrow to find his tv shattered. “It won’t hurt you,” he calls, though the EMF meter indicates a distinct lack of any supernatural presences. “It just makes noise to let me know when you’re nearby, yeah? Totally harmless.”

No response, but for once he doesn’t mind, not when there’s excitement dancing white-hot across his nerves. There really is a ghost or spirit or demon or something here, and he hasn’t just been imagining things.

Fuck, this house is single-handedly the coolest thing that’s ever happened to him, even if he does now have to worry about his haunting buddy getting a bit of revenge on him in the middle of the night.

But Remus survives safe and sound into the next day without so much as a supernatural scratch on his skin. Bloody payback didn’t seem like his ghost’s style anyways, not when their favorite activity seemed to be pressing as many buttons as possible on the tv remote at once. Curiosity is still nipping impatiently at his heels though, urging him to explore this latest avenue of potential communication more, so he sets up the EMF meter again, this time in the master bedroom where the spirit seems most inclined to spend time if the continued pacing in the middle of the night is anything to go by.

A brilliant plan, only minorly ruined by the fact that the device is nowhere to be found when he goes searching for it the next morning.

“Are you disappearing things, ghostie?” he asks the empty bedroom. “Gonna zap me into another dimension next?”

He’s joking, but as his hunt through the house reveals neither hide nor hair of the EMF meter, he can’t help but wonder. Had the ghost really just yeeted the thing into the ether? Or maybe it was right where he’d left it in the middle of the bedroom, but had been turned invisible like the spirit themself? What kind of ghostly superpowers did he even have, if any—

He comes to an abrupt halt as he emerges out the back door onto the porch, a laugh spilling past his lips as he surveys the myriad bits of metal and broken plastic strewn around him. Looks like he’s found his EMF meter. Apparently his ghost wasn’t nearly as endeared to this technology as he was anything with a screen. He glances up to the master bedroom window over his head, shading his eyes from the sun.

“Fair enough,” he calls, still fighting down amusement despite himself, and there’s the faintest shimmer in the air above the balcony, reminiscent of a heat mirage despite the cool morning air. “No more screeching little boxes.”

Left with zero information about his ghost’s identity, a useless Ouija board better repurposed as a doorstop, and the remains of his one piece of official ghost-hunting equipment, Remus concludes his only option is to embark on Plan D. Said plan isn’t so much an strategic approach as it is a wild hail mary to find any way to communicate with his ghost that didn’t involved hurling objects from balconies, as much fun as such an activity was, but then again, Plan D did sound delightfully dirty, so he’ll take the trade-off.

The internet, of course, is the place to turn to for highly questionable ghost advice, and it only takes a single google search to find message boards teeming with it. Half of it is clearly bullshit, he quickly discovers as he trawls through post after useless post, and the other half is baseless theories without any semblance of evidence to back them up, but just as he’s about to call it quits and move on to whatever the hell Plan E is, an old thread catches his eye.

‘Old Ghost Caught By Photography?’ the title reads, and Remus skims through the post, intrigued despite himself at the detailed claims the author had been able to capture the image of a Victorian spirit by using an antique camera and photography methods from the end of the nineteenth century. He pores over the attached images, searching for the slightest hint of photoshop or manipulation, but everything seems legit. And it made sense in some weird, probably illogical way, he supposes, that ghosts might only be spotted by using technology from their day and age—historical continuity in the metaphysical realm or some shit.

It’s the best lead he has after hours of searching, and really, he’s just spent a very hefty chunk of change buying a whole-ass house; what was the harm in dropping a few more dollars on some vintage photography equipment?

Which is precisely how he finds himself crammed into his makeshift darkroom in the tiny closet under the stairs several weeks later, holding his breath as he carefully begins to look through the latest batch of negatives he’s just finished processing. It had taken an obscene amount of research, a healthy dose of trial-and-error, and more than a few failures to figure out the intricacies of the dry plate photography process, but he’d gotten there in the end, even if the most he has to show for it is a few suspicious blurs in a couple of images.

Maybe this whole idea of capturing ghosts in photos was just as bullshit as the others, he muses as he examines yet another empty picture of the dining room, or maybe his ghost wasn’t from the same era as the camera he’d bought. Maybe his ghost simply didn’t want to have his photo taken, or maybe—

His train of thought abruptly derails as he picks up the next plate.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

The image is still a negative, the reversed colors lending a certain eeriness to the picture under the red darkroom lights, but there, right smack in the middle of the photo—a figure. An actual human figure, clear as day, looking right at the camera. Remus whoops, nearly knocking over a vial of chemicals with his elbow as he dances backwards in pure giddiness. Oh fuck yes , there is a ghost haunting the place. His ghost, now that he owns the house. His ghost who is…

He pauses, forcing himself to focus on the figure in the photo even as he feels like he’s about to vibrate right off of his bones with excitement. Spectacles, clean-shaven, dark hair neatly styled. Neat trousers, white shirt, trim waistcoat, and a decidedly fancy ascot, the whole ensemble distinctly old-fashioned. Victorian, then? Or Edwardian? Or some historical reenactor who’d met an untimely demise in costume? And it does seem to be an untimely demise; the man looks to be in his mid- to late-twenties, unless he’d found some ability to look whatever age he wanted in the afterlife.

Regardless, he can’t make himself focus on fashion for long. He has a ghost to talk to. Fighting his way out of the cramped closet, he bounds up the stairs, forcing himself to slow to a respectable jog as he darts into the master bedroom. He stops in the middle of the still-bare room, trying and utterly failing to keep his hopes in check.

“Hello? Ghostie?”

No response.

“Mr. Glasses and White Shirt?”

His skin prickles, the hair on the back of his neck raising. Aha. There he was.

“Hey, what’s up?” He turns in a slow circle, searching for any sign of his specter, any flicker of light off a spectacle lens or a flash of a shirtsleeve, but the room is as empty as ever.

“I have a photo if you’d like to see it.” Could ghosts not see themselves in mirrors or was that only vampire lore? And if he couldn’t see his own reflection, did the ghost even remember what he looked like?

He raises the picture, proferring the negative to the vacant room, and holds his breath. Nothing, for several long moments, and then the chill edges closer. Remus bites his lip, barely able to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet at the prospect of a ghost being within arm’s reach.

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, I just wanted to see if you were real or if I needed to go check myself into a padded room, you know? I’m Remus, if I haven’t said that. What’s your name?”

Several more excruciatingly long moments that Remus is sure has to be the longest span of silence in history, then—

“Hello.”

The voice is thin and slightly hoarse, quiet enough that Remus has to strain to make it out, but it’s as unmistakably real as the form that flickers into existence right in front of his eyes, identical to the man in the photo. He’s distinctly transparent, the edges of him not quite defined, fuzzing out around the edges like the ambient glow of neon signs, but he’s here and he’s real and this is so fucking cool that Remus could keel over right here and now from excitement and join the ghost in wandering around the house for all eternity.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, because if there was ever a time for swearing, by god this is fucking it, and the spirit withdraws slightly, already guarded expression closing in further. “No no no, it’s good,” he rushes to assure him, resisting the urge to reach out and try to touch him. “Good holy shit. Complimentary holy shit.”

The ghost doesn’t seem entirely appeased, but he tilts his head slightly, something like curiosity sparking in his eyes as he evaluates Remus.

“Why are you not frightened of me?” he finally asks, and Remus has to fight back the absurd laugh bubbling up in his chest. He’s being questioned by a century-old ghost in the middle of his haunted home. Life really was delightfully freaky.

“No offense, man, but you’re not exactly terrifying. I mean, I’ve been here what? A solid month? And you haven’t even tried to pluck my eyeballs out or anything.”

Another unreadable pause. Is he just giving the spirit ideas? Were his eyes about to be forcibly unmarried from his skull à la eagles tearing out Prometheus’ liver?

“Do you want me to be afraid of you?” he asks after a further absolutely unbearable five seconds of silence.

“No,” the ghost admits after a moment of clear hesitation, “but previous residents certainly have not appreciated my presence here.”

Remus scoffs. “That’s their problem. Some of us are smarter than that.”

The other man’s head tilt deepens, something akin to puzzlement furrowing his brow, as if he can’t fathom why having a ghost is actually the most badass shit on the face of the planet.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Remus asks, exhilaration still racing along the underside of his skin so intensely that he can barely stand it. “You can ask me whatever you want, too.”

The ghost nods, although he still seems cautious as one hand fiddles absently with his ascot. “I suppose that would be alright.”

Twenty questions with an undead spirit. Remus’ life really was getting better by the minute.

“Did you used to live here?”

“I did, many years ago.”

“Did you own the place?”

“At one point in time, yes. It was truly a beautiful house in its day, and a wonderful place to reside.”

Oh fuck yes. If having an old-timey ghost who can give him historically accurate advice about restoring the house isn’t the coolest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t sure what is. He has half a mind to start grilling him on paint colors and wallpaper prints and the original hardwood, but—

“Did you die here?”

The words are blurting out of his mouth without even bothering to detour through his brain on the way out, burning curiosity eclipsing any thought that perhaps asking about death isn’t exactly acceptable ghost etiquette. He barely has time to register the change in the spirit’s expression, the visceral upset written across his features clear as day, before he’s gone in between one breath and the next, vanishing back into whatever thin air he’d come from and leaving nothing but a biting chill in his wake.

Shit shit shit. He’s finally gotten the ghost to trust him enough to show up and talk and then he’s gone and ruined it within the span of two minutes all because he had all the self-control of a sieve trying to retain water.

“Wait,” he calls, casting about in vain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Well, apparently his subconscious had, but that hadn’t been his intention. “Please come back. You can ask me as many invasive questions as you like.” Nothing. “You can haunt me for revenge, if you want.” Utter silence. “Are you gonna hurl me off the balcony like my EMF meter?”

There he goes again, giving the specter ideas, although really, being yeeted out of a window by a ghost would be a damn cool end if he does say so himself. He lingers in the room for several long minutes, forcing himself to keep quiet lest he miss the spirit’s hushed voice, but there’s nothing but the faint sound of a bird twittering outside.

“Alright,” he finally relents, disappointment pooling in his stomach as he glances down at the photography plate still in his hand, the negative serving as indisputable evidence that the encounter hadn’t just been a fever dream. He’ll find a way to make things right with the ghost somehow, one way or another. He has to. “Just come spook me if you change your mind.”

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @darth-does-stuff

#thomas sanders sides big bang 2023 #tssbb2023 #sanders sides #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #intrulogical #loceit #ts fanfic #the art of saying goodbye #my fic #rosepetal writes

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