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bonesthebeloved · 5 years ago

Text

I'll write you bloody murder- intrulogical

Trigger/squick warning: mention of murder, blood, bullet wounds, surgeries (sort of).

Pairing: Romantic Intrulogical (they're married Y'all. Hell yeah)

Based on one of this prompt @chronophobica: 'Logan and Remus doing the serial killer and writer married couple trope.'

Hope you like it bud.

The little black bar on his screen flickered in and out of existence as Remus stared at the half-done page typed out on his laptop.

He was about halfway through the rough draft of his most recent horror novel and was just starting on the description of a rather graphic scene when he suddenly got stuck mid-sentence describing where the poor victim got slashed with a hunters knife.

He shuffled around in his chair, the thing a dark green colour clashing dramatically with the neon pink sleeping shirt he was currently wearing.

The apartment they lived in was small but cosy. Plants and soft chairs filled the livingroom. The large, jet-black couch and oak slab they used as a coffee table the centrepieces of the comfortable living space. The oak currently holding various notebooks, pens and cans of red bull on it, his coffee mug balancing dangerously on one of the armrests.

"Logibear?" he shouted into the quiet space, taking his eyes off his laptop too instead focus on the black ring around his finger. Twisting it around and feeling the words edged into the metal under his fingertips.

A few moments of silence and Logan's cool voice came floating back towards him.

"Yes, my love?"

Remus grinned at the pet name. He'd never get used to that. Logan, who as always so cool and collected and would be described as cold by an outsider having a pet name for him made him all mushy inside as if it was the first time he'd heard it.

He shook himself. Focusing on why he'd called out for his husband.

"What's the most painful place to get stabbed that wouldn't leave any lasting damage?"

"The lateral lower quadrants of the abdomen I believe. Both left and right upper quadrants have vital organs or veins that could be harmed if the victim got stabbed in that general area," Logan answered quickly. Casually. As if they were talking about the weather instead of where to best stab a person.

But then again. Remus didn't mind. Even more so he was happy that his husband knew all of these strange facts because it made it a lot easier to write out gory scenes.

He'd never wondered why his husband knew so much about murdering and torturing people. Or why he knew exactly how many organs a human could lose before their body gave up completely.

He was a medical professional after all. He was supposed to know these things.

Even if his loves fascination with killing rather than saving lives was a bit worrying at times, Remus didn't blame him. Would be hypocritical to do so even.

He was a writer after all.

Logan working in the medic field also explained why he sometimes came home late smelling like fresh blood while his eyes twinkled with something close to insanity.

It explained why the car was always spotless when he'd come back from long days or weeks even where he had to be present at the hospital.

What it didn't explain, was why Remus had found blood splatters on his regular clothing when he'd put them in the washer.

But he hadn't cared as much back then. Simply shrugged and thrown them in the washer. Having convinced himself that he must've imagined it by the time he'd gotten into bed and wrapped his arms around his love, nuzzling his face into the back of Logan's neck and breathing in the scent of home. Of wood and chlorine and the newly added blood smell. Of safe and slightly worried.

And when months flew by and Remus published his new book, itching all over when he had to put on a suit and tie and sign books and be nice to people, Logan had sat beside him, button-up as pristine as ever and his hand with the pure black band around his ring finger laced loosely with Remus his own.

And when a man who had been standing in line to get an autograph had cussed him out when he saw him next to his husband, Logan had excused himself. Saying he needed to go to the bathroom and walking away. Making Remus watch as he walked right past the bathrooms and followed the man further into the bookstore.

And when Remus heard about another murder on the news and saw the man's face pop up he'd ignored it. Shrugging off that particular feeling he couldn't quite place that had been growing ever since he'd noticed the first bloodstains on his husband's shoe and going about his day.

Shrugging off the cold shiver that ran down his spine when he found a little sticky note with the dead man's name and address on it under the couch. The thing probably having fallen out of Logan's calendar the day before when he'd come back late from work with that strange look in his eyes and a red smear across his cheek that he swore was jam before he'd gone to the bathroom to wash it off.

They laid in bed that night like always:

Remus in his briefs plastered against his husbands sleep-shirt covered back and face nuzzled into the back of his neck. Logan was completely lax with his hand covering Remus' own that were resting on his abdomen. Their rings clicking together when one of them shifted.

And deep in the night, when Remus wasn't even quite sure if he was awake anymore or simply dreaming, he looked at the back of his husband's neck and dared to ask.

"Did you kill him, Lo?"

And Remus would convince himself that he had been dreaming it. Starting on a new book and buying him and Logan a puppy for their anniversary. The setting of the fire alarm with his attempts at cooking and throwing clothes with the tiniest of blood splatters in the washing machine while acting like he hadn't seen the red splash.

Like his husband coming back from work a bit too late and a bit too happy while smelling of fresh blood as he kissed him hello was something normal. Like knowing exactly which veins to hit and how long it would take for the victim to bleed out was part of the job.

"I killed all of them." Logan had whispered back. And Remus had only hummed in response and wrapped his arms around his partner a little tighter. Intertwining their hands as their wedding bands clicked together and deciding right then and there that this had not actually happened.

And when the police were called on him because his novels were a bit too graphic and descriptive to be totally innocent he had sighed and let them look around his apartment. Dutifully telling them that his roommate had moved out a few months ago and giving Logan a strained smile and a kiss when he came back a few weeks later, blood on his shoes and a few scratches from where one of his victims had struggled on his left arm.

And he hadn't said anything when the new announced that bits of skin and tissue had been found under a victims nails and that they were scanning for DNA results.

And he'd stood in the middle of their apartment as they barged through the door. Logan whispering an I love you before three shots rang out and Remus realised that two of them had hit his love, one nestling itself right between his eyes.

The third had hurried through Remus his own body and shot out on the other side. Getting stuck in the plaster wall dividing their living room and bedroom.

He was vaguely aware of crawling towards his love lying still on the floor. The look of shock from when the first bullet had pierced his leg clear on his face. The bullet hole between his eyes seeming laughably small compared to the exit wound.

Remus was vaguely aware of making a joke he'd had one of his characters make when they had been shot as the special unit surrounded the two men on the floor and pointed their guns at them.

He was vaguely aware of the hilarity of it all. Laughing to show his amusement and getting another bullet through the leg as a reaction. But he laughed. The shock already having dulled the pain as he sat next to his husband. Hands intertwined and their rings clicking together as Remus thoughts about how they ought to have missed the lateral lower quadrants of the abdomen and hit something else that could be fatal right before he lost his balance and his body came falling down onto the floor.

An inch before his head hit the floor he was gone.

And the news report that morning went as followed: serial killer Logan Sanders and novelist Remus Sanders shot and killed when the authorities had come to collect them. The later was believed to have helped with the brutal murder of the 37 victims his partner had tortured and killed.

Though this claim would never be proven, the people had accepted it as a fact and millions of the author's books were thrown away or burned that day. Some people keeping theirs, looking at them with new eyes and telling a guest that came over about how 'these are the books of a murderer.'

Remus Sanders his last published book wasn't written by him but rather by a woman who had done excessive research on his case. Documenting his life and the way he'd fallen in love with a serial killer. How they came to be partners in the most horrid of crimes and the bitter end of this tragic love story. The victims of his husband and how the two behaved so elegantly at family dinners.

The book starts with the following sentence:

'The little black bar on his screen flickered in and out of existence as Remus stared at the half-done page typed out on his laptop'.

Taglist: @purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit

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