#tw: sympathetic deceit

[yourchemicallyimbalancedromance]

Blurred Lines

Prompt: Deceit has disguised himself as Patton multiple times off camera as well but it's gotten to the point where Patton's started to forget his identity and not believe he is himself

(credit to @bug-infested-demon for this prompt which you can find here<3)

Ship: platonic moxiety

CW/TW: derealization, a quite literal identity crisis, mention of past panic attacks in detail

Summary: a few weeks after “Can LYING Be Good??” Patton starts to have an identity crisis after Janus disguises himself as him again.

———————————————————————

Patton was swimming. No, not literally. In his thoughts, in his head.

He had laid in an unmade bed with unkempt hair wearing the same black and white snoopy shirt and black shorts for two days straight, stuck inside of his mind while the others attempted desperately to care for Thomas.

He stared at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin around and around and around, the cool breeze brushing against his face every so often.

He listened as the others argued in the commons. Janus had disguised himself as him again for the fourth time that week.

“Shut up!, you…you…” Roman blanked on an insulting nickname.

“Oh Roman, no need for the name calling today, can’t we all just have a polite discussion?” Janus said, voice as smooth and soft as a rock in a creek.

“Your chance for a polite discussion was thrown out the window when you decided to contribute by lying, again.” Virgil quipped, his voice becoming as sharp as a knife at the end of his sentence.

“Now now, Virg. No need to get snarky. I can practically see the malice on your tongue.” Janus replied, voice still soft, though sarcasm reeked off of it.

Virgil’s voice dipped an octave, sensing a disturbance in the environment. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.” He spat firmly.

Janus just chuckled, loving how easy it was to get to the anxious side standing next to him.

“Janus, you have to know by now that—“ Logan began.

Patton didn’t hear the rest, he didn’t want to. He grabbed the pillow next to him and folded it over his ears, muffling out the sound.

That was until they started getting louder. No, not the others, his thoughts.

I’m not real. Am I real? Am I me? Do I exist?

The thoughts swirled around in his head, boiling up for weeks like an awful stew.

He sat up, staring in the mirror bolted onto his door. Photos of him and the others were carefully slid into the open space between glass and wooden outline, holding them in place so he could see them every time he’d get ready. He ignored them, looking into the mirror. He was so lost in thought it was almost as if he was staring past himself.

There were slight bags under his eyes, indicating he hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time in the last 48 hours. He looked as white as a ghost, considering he hadn’t left his room or gone outside for any other reason than to use the bathroom.

In conclusion, he looked like a total wreck, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to do something about it.

He raised a hand up to his face, touching it lightly.

…What if Thomas has no Morality?

Virgil appeared next to him, arms folded across his chest. Instead of his usual demeanor of dark edginess, he looked oddly..sympathetic, more worried than anything, really.

Patton didn’t bother looking at him, just gazed in the mirror, internally panicking. He was shaking a little.

Virgil couldn’t stand seeing Patton like this, all broken and with no one to defend him against himself.

“Pat..?” The name came out as a whisper. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Patton?”

Patton still didn’t make eye contact, but tears welled in his eyes. If he didn’t exist, then neither did Virgil, or any of the others.

Virgil sat on the bed next to the Moral side, looking at him intently. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Patton tried to speak, he wanted to. He hopelessly wanted to tell someone the thoughts in his head, but all that came out was a whimper with tears falling down his face.

Virgil gently turned Pattons head to face him. “Deep breaths, ‘Kay?” he said, compassionately.

Patton nodded, breathing in, then out. in, then out, until finally he had a grip on his emotions. Not that it mattered if he did or not, he wasn’t real.

“Don’t leave. I know you aren’t real but, please. I need this, you don’t understand how much this family means to me.” Patton begged, voice wobbly.

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion and concern. “Not re— Patton, what are you talking about?” he held the side close to him, making sure his breathing stayed even.

“None of this is real,” he squeezed out, throat tight from holding back tears, “I don’t even think I’m me. And if I’m not me, than that means Janus is, and if Janus is me then that means that Thomas had no morality in the first place and I’m probably something Roman just conjured up in the imagination and—“

“Patton, oh my god, no, no.“ he held him tighter, “you’re real. This is all real, okay?” He said frantically, cutting off the others spiral.

“You are not something that was just made up, Pat. Do you feel the carpet under your feet? That’s real. It’s okay, I promise.”

Patton nodded, “you’re sure…? Because Janus—“

Virgil shook his head, “I couldn’t care less about Janus right now. We’ll definitely be talking later, but I’m more focused on you, and yes I am extremely sure.”

He wanted to laugh at the word he used, ‘talking’, as if it wouldn’t be a full on screaming match.

Patton sniffled, “thank you.”

“Any time, bud” he responded, “and hey, Thomas does have a sense of Morality, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Patton nodded, gripping on to the Anxious side a little, as if he was still unsure of what he was saying.

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” Was all he could think to say.

and apparently it worked, Patton eased up his hold a bit, noticing how neither of them had magically faded into thin air. He laughed at himself for thinking something so unrealistic.

“…I’ve been there, you know.” Virgil quietly admitted, to which Patton raised a brow in question.

“Thinking about the whole not being real thing. It was the cause of a lot of my…outbursts, to put it lightly.”

Patton understood what he was trying to get at, the massive panic attacks he used to have. He would find him in the bathroom curled up in the shower in the middle of the night, sobbing. He didn’t like to think about it.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said timidly, almost as if not to disturb the sadness of the memory and their conversation, a tiredness in his voice.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want you to know that I get it.” Virgil rushed out, not trying to upset Patton further.

“Do you want me to go so you can sleep? Not to sound rude or anything, but it looks like you need it.” He asked, eyeing the bags under Pattons eyes and the exhausted look on his face, like he could barely keep his eyes open.

Patton said nothing, having gone limp in the others arms. He was as tired as Virgil thought.

He blew air out of his nose in amusement. “I’ll be here, don’t worry.” he whispered to the sleeping person in front of him. “I’ve got you.”

[hoardofhyperfixations]

Scarf|Deceitmber Day 3

Based on this

Notes: Yes, I did make a prompt about a scarf angsty. ⚠THIS IS ANGST WITH NO HAPPY END.⚠

Ships: Past Anxceit

“Here,” Anxiety lifted one of his shy smiles, stretching his arm out. Dangling from his hand was a hand-knit, yellow scarf with black snowflake designs on it. “Since you’re always so cold.”

Deceit carefully took it from him, wrapping it around his neck and shoulders. It smelled like Anxiety, like s’mores and campfires, like familiarity, like comfort--like home.

“It won’t help much, y’know,” he snorted, as if the gift didn't mean the world to him, “since I don’t produce a lot of body heat.”

“I could take it back if you don’t like it, then, if you wanna be an ass about it.”

“No!” Anxiety snickered at his reaction. “No, it’s mine now.” Deceit said quickly burying the lower half of his face in the soft fabric, his forked tongue darting out to smell more of it.

“Jeez, okay.” Anxiety fidgeted with his hoodie strings, rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet, the rubber of his sneakers squeaking against the floor.

“Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Only if it’s Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“Duh, what else would it be?” Deceit scoffed, voice muffled by the yellow fabric wrapped around him.

“Then yeah, let’s go, you dork.” Anxiety smiled again, and it made Deceit feel so much warmer than a scarf ever could.

The tears running down his face certainly didn’t help to warm him, the cold air biting at his exposed skin. Deceit buried his face in the scarf, his tears wetting the fabric slightly. The damp, rough texture hurt, but no more than the memories the gift brought back. After so many years of the use, the fabric had lost it’s softness and the color of it had dulled to a pale yellow and dark gray, and it no longer smelled so wonderful.

His stomach twisted.

Anx would never let him that close by choice, never again.

He wanted to puke.

It was cold. He was alone.

Anxiety had left him.

General Taglist: @superkat500 @saw-7-birds @voidvirgil @llamaavocado @theangstking @anyay666 @detroit-become-pan @kaioanxiety @definitely-a-plant @shesavampirequeen @sympathetic-spooky-sides @thebrokenauthor

[em-be-lievable]

The art of setting yourself on fire.

Title: The art of setting yourself on fire.

Words: 1200+

Warnings: Self loathing, Sympathetic Deceit

A/N: Don’t you dare @ me. If you’ve gone this long without knowing I’m Deceit Trash, then it’s on you boo. Huge spoiler warning for the latest episode, because this is my imagination screaming about what happened immediately after.

Summery: Deceit wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t a good side. He should just stay in his lane and be a villain, and honestly- he wanted to. It was far more gratifying to just be a moral foil and make theater puns. But they weren’t seeing what was right in front of them, and all of Thomas was suffering because of it.

That was the thing wasn’t it? They didn’t want to believe he was a part of Thomas. But he was, whether he liked it or not.

—————————————————-

Maybe it would have helped if he didn’t look like a ‘scooby doo villain’ and have half of a snake face. But, well, he wasn’t really good at hiding who he is. Especially considering that the last two times he pretended to be someone else he was completely unmasked.

Deceit sighed, taking off his hat and throwing it in the dark corner of his room. He didn’t even have the energy to make it to his bed, instead choosing to just lie face-first onto the floor and burying his cheek into the carpet.

This was so frustrating.

Maybe Logan wasn’t the best to impersonate. His mannerisms were arguably the hardest to narrow down. But who else would they listen to? For all the whining Logan does about not being heard, he’s most certainly the voice of reason for everything. And God, do they need a voice of reason right now. Thats why he still stuck around in Logan’s place after being discovered. He wanted to be that voice of reasoning.

Deceit wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t a good side. He should just stay in his lane and be a villain, and honestly- he wanted to. It was far more gratifying to just be a moral foil and make theater puns. But they weren’t seeing what was right in front of them, and all of Thomas was suffering because of it.

That was the thing wasn’t it? They didn’t want to believe he was a part of Thomas. But he was, whether he liked it or not.

And trust him, he’d rather not right now. Thomas has been dealing with a lot for the past few years. Patton was still in the process of moving on from Guys and Dolls, Virgil was fighting his insecurity and healing from being a villain for a long time, Roman wasn’t feeling good enough, Logan wasn’t feeling heard. It was just problem, after problem, after problem.

He just wanted a break. He just wanted Thomas to admit he was lying to himself and that he didn’t want to forfeit one of his dreams to go to a wedding that would make him even more miserable. He leapt through loop after loop just trying to get him to admit it.

And what did they do? Choose to go anyway. Because it was ‘morally’ right.

It didn’t matter it would make Thomas sad. It didn’t matter that he was giving up his dream. It didn’t matter that this would further his career and lead to bigger opportunities. The wedding came first.

It felt so self-sabotaging. Why were they so content with hurting?

Deceit sighed heavily, turning his face and thumping his forehead into the carpet. He thought for a moment about crying, but it seemed a little too dramatic for the moment. He wasn’t sad, he was just, frustrated. Frustrated and hurt.

Why wouldn’t the just see the point? Why did he have to yell? Why did he have to go to just great lengths to have a stake in this conversation?

Why did they still miss the point?

The answer was obvious; he was Deceit. He was the snake tempting Eve with the apple. He was lies, and everything negative that Thomas didn’t want to believe he had in himself.

But was that really all he was? Right now it didn’t feel like it. Sure, Thomas was being selfish for not wanting to go to the wedding. But was that really such a terrible thing? Was it really so bad to act in your own best interest for once?

Why did they always set themselves on fire to keep others warm? This level of self-sacrifice didn’t make any sense.

He didn’t even say they should lie- Roman did. Because Roman really wanted this.

God. Roman.

Deceit grimaced. He couldn’t help but feel for the side. Roman hadn’t been feeling great for a while- if the previous videos and quiet quips said anything. Behind all the grandeur Roman had been taking hit after hit. Feeling bad for his part in the Guys and Dolls fiasco. Feeling inadequate for his ideas not being good enough. Feeling rushed and small under Logan’s crazy ideals. A bright star being outshined by the shrouds of reality.

It hurt to watch. After all, Roman was a part of them too. This win would have really meant a lot to him. And he gave it up. Because Patton said it was right, and Patton by virtue of being morality, was always in the right

Not that there was really a ‘right’ in this scenario. Someone was bound to get hurt no matter what. But because of who Thomas was, it seemed better to hurt himself than other people.

Deceit glared at the little woven fibers that made up the floor, the bitter taste of resentment curling on the back of his tongue. He almost had a mind to go to Pat and yell at him. Saying for once Thomas’s morals were pointing him in the wrong direction. That none of this felt right for any of them, and he was stupid for trying to take the high ground.

But, it was unlikely that Patton would listen. He was Dee’s anthesis in all of this. He had no reason too.

With a groan, Deceit turned on his back, looking up at the shining plastic stars he had tacked to his ceiling. He felt heavy. There was a restlessness in his core that refused to let this go, but a weariness in his bones that didn’t have the energy to try again. This was all just so fucking depressing. He won the argument but lost his message. And now nobody felt good.

He had half a mind to duck out (quack.) Have a silent moment of retaliation and show them all what it was for Thomas to stop trying to lie. To have him spill out every awful unfiltered thought with no one to hide them. To show them all why he existed, what his purpose was, who he was.

But he couldn’t do that, because it would hurt Thomas- and by extension him. And that wasn’t his goal. His goal was gratification. To end this cycle of hurt that kept cropping up. To give them a break from their problems.

He just wanted to protect Thomas from hurting anymore.

And that really was it. The reason why he existed at all. If honesty didn’t hurt, then nobody would lie. If there wasn’t a fear from being shunned, or angering people, or those stupid societal ‘boogeymen’ that everyone was living in fear of- he could just not be.

Not being sounded really nice right now. Going back to being a mere concept, in the back of the mind palace only whispering ‘what if’s’ to no one.

But no. The monster in the closet was a threat. People lied all the time. And everything hurt.

Deceit sighed. This sucked.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, staring at nothing and thinking circles into the floor. Going over what happened, where he went wrong, and what he could do differently. It exhausted him in a way that made a five kilometer run look easy. But eventually he peeled himself off the floor, through with wallowing in pity.

He went back to his desk, and back to the ‘figurative’ drawing board. He had a job to do after all, and laying on the floor wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Hopefully, with enough effort, he would put out the fire they started and let Thomas be happy.

Hopefully.

----------

Taglist: 

General fic list: @spaceisbigger @a-pastel-pan @side-for-sides @shadowsoul357 @peanut0303 @stormblessedcastiel @3xtralif3 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @therealpeterpan @punsterterry @felicianoromano @obsessedwith83514 @positive--pancake

[buginabog]

Enemy's Kiss

Summary: Roman is having feelings he probably shouldn't.

Pairing: Roceit

Warnings: sympathetic deceit

-

Roman rolled over in his bed for the fiftieth time that night. He looked at the clock, "3:58 am" he should probably get to sleep. But he couldnt. He couldnt get that damn snake out of his head.

His fake flirting. His smug smile. Every smile and laugh and compliment. All his empty words and encouragement that meant nothing.

So why did it mean so much?

Roman loved Deceit. Why? To be honest... Roman had no idea either. The snake was so... evil! He was the epitome of a villian! And yet... and yet...

And yet Roman couldnt forget those beautiful mismatched eyes, those scales that glinted in the light, the confident smile that spread across his face.

Roman groaned as he closed his eyes. Why him of all people? Patton, Virgil, hell, even LOGAN would be a better person to fall in love with.

Roman turned over again. It was going to be a long night.

-

The next morning, Roman walked down tired and bleary-eyed. He saw Virgil at the coffee maker and pushed him out of the way, grabbing the pot from him.

"Dude, rude much?"

"Mmmmmmfuck off. I'm tired."

Pattons voice sounded from behind him, "what kept you up all night?"

Roman froze, "ah, um... art"

Virgil snorted, "sure."

Roman turned around, trying not to show panic on his face. Did Virgil know? What if he hated him? He hated Deceit after all, and if he found out that Roman... "what do you mean?"

Virgi smirked, "I'm just saying, 'art', may go by the name of Logan."

Roman burst out laughing, "you... you Logan and I-? Oh! This is just too good!"

Deceit walked in, "good night everyone." He mumbled.

Virgil hissed at him warningly, but left him alone.

Patton shrugged, "I dont know kiddo, you and Logan have been spending a lot of time together..."

Roman may have been imagining it, but he thought he saw Deceits back stiffen... ever so slightly.

"Well... we're not dating. If that's what you think."

Virgil shrugged, "I dunno man, you guys would look cute together."

Deceit walked out suddenly.

Virgil smiled, "finally! I thought he would never leave!"

Roman looked at the door Deceit had left through. And he thought that he had seen something wet flash on Deceits scaly cheek.

-

Roman sketched idly as he tried to think of a new video idea. When he finally looked at his sketch, he realized he had inadvertently drawn Deceit... again.

Deceit appeared in his room, "goodbye Roman."

Roman turned around, trying to disguise his delight at the scaly sides appearance in his room. "Hello Dr Jekyll and Mr Lied."

Deceit raised an eyebrow, "...you've never used that before."

Roman shrugged, "ah... well. I've been busy."

Deciet crossed his arms, "yeah, Logan sure isnt a handful, huh?"

Roman looked back in confusion, "...whatever do you mean?"

Deceit shrugged, "well, yknow, a boyfriend like that..."

Roman groaned, "ugh! Logan is not my boyfriend!"

"As if youd lie to me."

"Why is this such a big deal to you!"

Deceit frowned, "no reason."

"Aha! So there is a reason!" Roman grinned triumphantly.

Deceit sighed, "...no."

Roman frowned and rested his arms on the back of his chair, and then rested his head in his arms, "c'mon, spill."

"...youd love me."

"Nothing could make me hate you."

Deceits human half blushed, and so did Roman once he realized what he had said, "UH! I MEAN- I DONT- ahhhhh." Roman face palmed and groaned in embarrassment.

Deceit gently pulled his hands away, "...There isnt something I've been meaning to tell you..."

Roman looked at him, "...what?"

Deceit looked into his eyes, and said, "I... Love... you..." he said each word like it pained him.

Roman's eyes widened in horror, "you... you hate me?"

Deceit looked like he was about to cry, "yes yes yes! I meant that!"

Roman's eyes widened, "Deceit... you-?"

Deceit nodded, "no." He said softly.

Roman smiled brightly, "well then, mi amor, would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?"

"No."

Roman smiled aand leaned in. Deceit sensed what he wanted and leaned in too. Their lips met in the middle and Roman smiled.

It was a kiss from an enemy, and it was wonderful.

[thestrangedino]

A happy birthday to a very special snake!! 

I love him too much NOT to make him a gift.

@thatsthat24

Bonus:

-Do NOT repost my art please!!-

[monstertownau]

Sleep Tight

Jup, it has been way to long. But we are back! With our favorite sleepy boy! Enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Sympathetic Deceit

~~~ ~~~

“Remy, you forgot your shift. Again!” Tobias said. Remy just shrugged.

“Most peeps in my district are college students anyway. They could use the few extra hours to work. Plus I needed some Starbies”

“This is the fifth time Remy! In a month! Humans can’t function without sleep. It is our job to provide for that!”

“And I can’t function without my coffee,”

“Remy! Listen to me! This is your responsibility, your job!” “And did I ever choose for this job? No!” Remy slipped down his sunglasses to show his sand filled eyes. “I just woke up, and some stupid god, or rather no, some demon, decided I should become some kind of a freak!” The last words were more of a sob, really.

Tobias frowned at first, before the realisation hit him. It was that day… Of course. He should have been more thoughtful… He sighed.

“Look, Remy. Why don’t you go and sit with Darma for some time, yeah? I’ll see what I can do,” He sighed, putting a hand on the golden boy’s left shoulder. Remy stepped back, escaping his mentor’s hand, before storming into one of the bedrooms of the forest cabin they lived in.

The Naga was sitting on the bed playing with Noodle when Remy burst in.

“Trouble?” He asked, looking up at the Sandman. Remy huffed, which was the answer Darma was looking for. He stood up to put Noodle away for a bit, waiting until Remy started talking.

“Just...” Remy trailed off for a bit, “Dee, How are you okay with being away from your family?”

“What makes you want to know, sandbrain?”

Remy rubbed his temples.

“Don’t. Today is not a good day, Dee.”

Darma saw by the look on his friends face how serious it was. He put down Noodle, giving the snake a warning look before walking back to the bed and sat next to his friend. After a moment of silence he started speaking.

“I miss them. I know I was young when I got here, but I regret the mistake every day,”  Darma laughed sadly, “I don’t remember my mother's voice anymore, and when I try to think of her, I only see a blurry image. I don’t know if I had a father or siblings. I may look like I’m okay, but I’m not.”

Remy looked up to see a few tears streaming down the Naga’s face. As soon as Darma noticed his friend looking at him, he quickly wiped away the tears.

“That was… surprisingly honest for a man named Deceit,” Remy teased, poking his friend in the side.

“Shut up. And that's not even my name, just some stupid nickname you gave me!”

“Awh, you love it and you know it,”

Darma felt his cheek flush in shame and decided to flip the board on Remy.

“I was honest, now it’s your turn. So, what's up?”

Remy groaned.

“Just failed another night, that's all…”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Rems, I’ve known you for a long time now. I might be deceptive, but I also know when you are.”

“It is just… I was created on this day...”

“So… it’s your birthday? What’s so wrong about that?” Darma asked. Remy shook his head in answer.

“No, not my birthday. Quite the opposite actually,”

The Naga looked at him, many questions on his mind, but not daring to ask them. Remy sighed.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand anyway,”

Darma was ready to object when the door to the bedroom opened.

“Remy, I talked with the board. They are not taking away your duties,”

Tobias paused for a minute, looking down at the two boys. His boys.

“However, they are moving you to a new District.”

“What?!” Darma exclaimed. “You’re just going to let those assholes take him away?”

Tobias smiled sadly.

“Nothing I can do. Remy, pack your bags. You’re moving to Ashborn Falls, today.”

The mentor walked out of the room, leaving a confused Remy and a furious Darma.

“Well, I guess I need to go packing...” Remy mumbled after long silence. He had never met the board, but he knew they were extremely powerful. Nothing could change their mind.

“Hell no!” Darma said, grabbing Remy’s wrist.

“You know I can’t disobey their orders Dee.” Remy said, trying to pull away from the Naga’s grip.

“But I can,” Darma smirked.  “I’m coming with you, Sandworm.”

[whqreforstevengrant]

might delete this when i wake up but this was also some concept designs before my final choice.

picani was gonna be a huge anime nerd, Janus was gonna be punk along with Remus; pls ignore my unfinished patton Ngl i do like this remus outfit better so don’t be surprised if you see him change and Remy was gonna be an alt clown kinda person… i still like that RAHH i also might bring hard of hearing logan back?? bc WHY DID I GET RID OF IT?? (this is like two years ago oh my.)

[lily-janus]

More pinned post shit

Au: mindscape

Pairing (/p): creativitwins

"You've never hurt me. Never."

The Play

Summary: Roman asks for Remus' help... don't worry, it goes better than you think.

Pairing: platonic creativitwins

Warnings: Remus being Remus, sexual innuendos, lots of cursing, angst, yelling, blood mention, self degrading, weapon mention, very brief non-descriptive violence. Lemme know if I missed any.

Word count: 2,125

Thank you for the request! First time trying this kind of premise so hope it turned out okay! Enjoy!

(Likes<<<<reblogs, please reblog if you like, it really helps me out)

-------------------------------------------------------

C'mon… it's no big deal! Just walk inside dammit! You do it all the time to all the sides' rooms! Just burst in without a care in the world like always!

…so what if you didn't didn't talk one on one since forever? It's no biggie, right? You don't care about anything, especially not others' opinions! And especially not his-

"Remus?"

Remus jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and turned to look as his favorite snake.

Janus looked at the door Remus had been staring at for who-knows-how-long, then at Remus, and frowned.

"Something I should know?" He asked, probing, but gently probing, as always seeming to pick up on Remus' hesitation.

Remus forced a grin and shook his head. "Nope! All good here!" 

He wasn't buying it, he knew he wouldn't, but it's not like he's going to talk about it here and now either.

Janus sighed. "If you say so, you know where to find me if it's not." And with a gentle brush on Remus' shoulder, he continued on his way.

And dammit the stupid snake always knew what to say didn't he? Whatever happens in there… he's got good ol' Janny.

He took one deep breath and swung open the door with as much flourish as he could master!

"I'm hereee!" He sang as he entered the room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

"Geez u scared the living shakespeer out of me, Remus!" Roman startled, putting a hand on his heart.

Remus cackled. "Awesome!"

Roman breathed out a sigh. "I'm regretting this already…" he grumbled.

"Too late! You made the mistake of inviting me!" Remus grinned, pretending Roman's comment didn't sting… because it didn't of course.

"I did… to be honest I didn't think you'd come…" Roman confessed.

"Aww how can I refuse an invite from my dearest brother?" Remus teased.

Roman huffed. "An invite for 5 hours ago, and you don't have a great record of listening to… well, anything."

Remus shrugged. "Welp! I came whether you like it or not… Why did you invite me, by the way?" The question sounded way more hesitant than Remus intended.

Roman bit his lip. "Well I… I just wanted to ask you um…" he took a deep breath. "I need your help with a project okay?" He finally said.

Remus blinked. "My help? Like… me specifically?"

Roman nodded.

"What? You're writing smut or something? I can for sure help with that!" Remus offered with a mischievous grin.

Roman blushed furiously. "No!" He squeaked. "Not that geez um… how do I explain this…" he muttered to himself.

"You see, I wrote a play and it turned out… fine I guess, but it still felt like it's missing something, so naturally I asked the others for feedback… they tried their best, bless them, but they're not artists… they don't get it you know? What I'm saying is… you're kind of my only hope right now." He explained.

"Oh! You need my creative wisdom! Well why didn't you just say so? Let me see your sappy play then!" Remus reached out his hands to take it.

"I didn't say it was sappy!" Roman protested but handed over the play anyway.

"You didn't need to, Ro-Ro, you wrote it." Remus cackled at Roman's pout before turning his attention to the pages in his hands.

Silence followed as Remus read, Roman looking over his shoulder anxiously to see where he was, until he finally finished and looked up.

"You're right, bro, it is missing something…" he tapped his chin, thinking.

"Right? I tried telling them but all Patton did is tell me that it's great and I should give myself more credit, all Logan did was say the 'structure' or whatever was good and fixed some grammar mistakes and Virgil said, and I quote: 'not really an expert on plays but I think it's pretty good'. Which is sweet of them but again, not really helping." Roman sputtered in frustration, putting his face in his hands.

"This needs to be ready tomorrow and I just… I don't know what to do! I can't give it to Thomas when it's like this!" Roman threw his hands in the air theatricaly, looking at Remus pleadingly.

"Calm your tits bro, fuck, your play's fine, just needs some little twicks and it's perfect." Remus rolled his eyes, handing it back to Roman.

"You… you think so?" Roman took it hesitantly.

"Tell you what, let's just try and act it out and see if we get ideas on what to add." Remus suggested.

Roman gave him a funny look.

"What's with the face?" Remus questioned, refusing the urge to blush at the attention.

"That's… that's a great idea, Remus…" Roman said in disbelief.

Remus grinned, shimmying his shoulders. "All my ideas are, bro-Ro!"

Roman huffed a laugh. "We must have different memories then."

Remus waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, you're just boring as fuck sometimes…" he paused. "Though fucking is much more exciting." He cackled, volume increasing when Roman blushed a deep red.

"You're impossibl-"

"Impossibly sexy? I agree! Thanks for noticing!"

Roman shook his head with a tiny hint of a smile. "So are we doing this or what? Or are you stalling because you know I'm a better actor than you?" He teased with a proud smile that's just a shy away from Janus' signature smirk

Remus barked a laugh at that. "You wish." He snapped to conjure another copy of the play for him, looking at Roman, challenging.

Smiling, Roman cleared his throat, holding the script in front of him, and started.

…

Roman looked away with an expression of deep hurt. "I… I'm sorry brother, I failed you.." he said brokenly.

Remus tutted. "Oh no, not at all. You see, you were right, all I do is hurt people… there's no hope for me." He said darkly.

Roman shook his head. "No… no, it's not true! I… I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it… please, don't do this." He begged, reaching for him.

Remus chuckled. "You see? I even hurt you-"

"No!" Roman grabbed him by his shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes… Remus would have believed it if he didn't know they were acting…

"Listen to me, you've never hurt me. Never." 

Remus suddenly forgot his lines, choking a bit as he looked away.

"...Remus?"

Fuck why does he sounds like he actually cares?

Trying desperately not to shake, Remus glanced at the pages in his hands and delivered the next line.

But Roman shook his head, taking the play from him and setting it down on a chair gently.

"You can't lie to me, I can tell you're upset."

Remus huffed. "So what if I am? Since when do you care?"

Roman's face almost made him want to take it back… almost.

"All your stupid play's missing is a death scene, there, problem solved, happy ending, cheers and all that." He said emptily.

Roman looked confused for a moment before he saw Remus snap his fingers. His eyes widened. "Remus, wait-"

Was all he heard before he appeared back in his good ol' hell of a room.

He sighed, summoning his morning star and raising it for a strike, when he heard a pop behind him and swung there instinctively.

"Wha- hey! Watch out!"

He froze. "Ro? What the fuck are you doing here? Sneaking up on me like that?"

Roman huffed, dusting his perfectly clean and not-wrinkled clothes in indignation. "I was trying to check up on you, silly."

"Well you're about 7 years late, get the fuck out, unless you wanna find out what fun surprises I have here." He grinned maliciously.

Roman crossed his arm stubbornly. "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong." 

"Fine! You wanna know what's wrong, Roman?" Remus snapped, waving his morning star carelessly.

"Yes, I do!" Roman shouted back.

"What's wrong is you suddenly pretending like you care how I feel when you made it very fucking clear in the past 7 years that you don't!" Remus spat.

"No… you don't understand I-"

"What's wrong, is you acting like everything's sunshine and rainbows when you know fucking well how it's not even close!" Remus cut him off.

"Remus I was try-"

"What's fucking wrong is that today is the first fucking time we hung out together in years! And it was just because you needed something from me! Did you even realize that? Or were you so caught up in your stupid fantasies and delusions that you didn't even notice?" Remus was shouting so loudly he could taste blood, but he didn't care.

"You're such a fucking pussy that you can't handle how fucking messed up the world is, you're even worse than your naive father figure! You disappear on me for years and suddenly act like you care? You're never there when I need you! Never! And you wonder what's wrong? What the fuck? You're so fucking blin-"

"I was trying to apologize!"

The room fell into a deafening silence, the only sound being the twin's heavy breathing.

Roman let out a big sigh dropping his gaze. "I… I didn't know how…" he swallowed. "I didn't know how to approach the subject… this was the best I could come up with…"

Remus blinked a few times, trying to process the words. "...what?"

"The play! Remus… the stupid play… I wrote it… about us… but with me trying to make things right… it was just a cover story so I can invite you and… apologize…" Roman explained weakly. "It was a dumb idea I know…" he added, clutching his arm tightly in shame.

The play…

"You've never hurt me. Never"...

Remus swallowed. "H-how accurate is the play?" He hated how shaky his voice was.

"As accurate as it can be." Roman shrugged, looking up to meet his eyes.

But Remus couldn't look back at him. "Why… why now?"

Roman bit his lip. "You were right… I was… I was too caught up in a fantasy to realize I abandoned you… but lately, things… happened. And they made me reflect on myself…" a sob escaped Roman's throat. "I'm such an ass Remus, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He buried his face in his hands, shaking with sobs.

Remus pinched himself, Roman was still there, he did again, nothing changed… Roman was here, apologizing for him. He's not dreaming, he's not imagining… he's here!

And yet… Remus couldn't forgive him… not yet at least.

Roman was still sobbing in front of him. "Okay, okay, c'mere you big sap." He pulled him into a rib-crushing bear hug that made him gasp for breath.

"Does… that mean you forgive me?" Roman asked hesitantly into his shoulder.

Remus cackled evilly. "Oh you sweet, naive Ro-Ro…" he shook his head, releasing him so he could see his wild grin. "You have so much to do to make it up to me."

Roman sighed but smiled anyway. "Guess I deserved that, I'll do my best, I love you, Re."

"Ew! Gross, gross gross! Get out of here before your sappy feelings stink up my room!" Remus covered his ears, shaking his head.

"But it's already stinky-"

"Out!" He snapped his fingers, banishing Roman outside.

"Rude!" He heard shouting on the other side of the door. And then he heard him walk away.

Remus shook his head, sighing in relief. "I love you too, Ro."

"Aw"

He jumped. "Fucking hell, Janny! How long have you been here?!" He shrieked.

"Not important." Jan waved his hand dismissively, smirking at him from where he sat on Remus' bed. "So, the big, scary Remus has feelings…" Janny teased, clearly delighted.

Remus huffed. "You're the one to talk, Sneky."

"I say this went better than expected." Janus, of course, ignored him, patting the space next to him.

Remus fell beside him, making the mattress bounce a little. "Were you worried about me, Jan-Jan?" He teased, poking him in the ribs.

Janus huffed a chuckle. "You wish, how long are you planning to keep him on the hook?" 

Remus grinned. "For as long as it's fun." He chuckled.

"Hmm now where did you get that from?" Jan smirked.

Remus cackled. "Gee I wonder."

Janus suddenly turned serious, looking Remus in the eye. "You have every right to stay mad, you know, I saw first hand how much he hurt you."

Remus looked away. "I know… but, I think I want to forgive him… eventually."

Janus nodded. "Alright, just don't feel obligated to. I'll let you sleep now, you know where I am if you need me." He squeezed his shoulder gently before disappearing.

Good ol' Janny, always there for him… and soon maybe Roman would too… who would have thought…

Certainly not Remus.

[aidensm8]

Welp, looks like we got a part 2 to that royal AU

[< Previous] || [Next >]

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Logan: *gets mad*

Remus: What, gonna spank me?

Logan: *eyes go orange with rage and growls at him*

Remus: MAMA JAN, HELP HE GROWLED AT ME!

[sweetest-honeybee]

Bloop, Janus angst

[hoardofhyperfixations]

Movie Night|Deceitmber Day 5

From this

Notes: This started out angsty but then roceit came and said "what if they were buddies starting to fall in love"

Ships: Roceit (pre-romantic)

Deceit paced back and forth, tugging his silky yellow gloves off and throwing them at the brown.

What did it matter anymore?

The others didn't care about him.

They didn't even respect him.

They stole his things and used them as props for their movie ni- their shenanigans! 

He turned on his heel, kicking the wall.

"Ow!" He jumped up on one foot, holding his other in his hands.

Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do…

"Deceit-?"

He froze and almost fell over, quickly putting his foot down even though it was throbbing in dull pain.

"Roman?" He blinked, quickly grabbing his gloves and shoving them back on.

What did that thief want?

"Hey, Dee. Can I come in?"

"...I suppose." He pressed his fingertips together, composing himself as Roman opened the door. "What do you want?" He said coldly.

"I'm sorry! I was going to ask first but you were sleeping. Also, you left this in my room when you were-"

Deceit snatched the tiny snake plush out of Roman's hands, cheeks red.

"Okay! I get it!" He hissed. "I- alright, I forgive you. Stop talking, alright? Next time you wanna 'borrow' my hat, wake me up and ask, you dumb ass."

"Yes! I'm still gonna make it up to you." Roman insisted, grinning. "...movie night?"

"Little Shop of Horrors."

"I figured."

General Taglist: @superkat500 @saw-7-birds @voidvirgil @llamaavocado @theangstking @anyay666 @detroit-become-pan @kaioanxiety @definitely-a-plant @shesavampirequeen @sympathetic-spooky-sides @thebrokenauthor

[em-be-lievable]

Number 4 with moxiety?❤️❤️❤️

Once again if you don’t specify you’re getting fluff. 

Writing Prompt 4: “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”Words: 700Warnings: Despacito memes

Virgil love his boyfriend, he really did. But the thing about Patton was once he was determined there was no getting through to him. No force on Earth could get in-between Patton and his goals. Oftentimes Virgil found himself thinking that if Patton wasn’t so nice he would have bested god in hand to hand combat by age 16.

That’s why when he came home from work to see Patton making The Face™ at him he knew he was in trouble. The last time Patton brought out The Face™ Virgil found himself volunteering at a troubled youth camp in the hot july sun despite he being a troubled youth himself, and extremely pale. No SPF could save him from the sunburns he received, effectively ruining his cool emo image for a few weeks. Patton and his latinx skin apologized profusely amidst baths of aloe-vera. It sucked, but if Patton was happy then Virgil was happy too.

However he came to fear The Face™ because it meant he was about to hear something he wasn’t going to enjoy. Patton didn’t even have the chance to say a word because as soon as Virgil saw that expression he groaned “Oh god what is it this time? I swear to god, I’m not watching Antonio’s raccoon again- getting a rabies shot is something you only want to do once.”

Patton pouted, “Okay one: No one said it had rabies!! He got it vaccinated- …probably. And two that’s not what this is about!!”

“So what is this about?” Virgil sighed, setting his computer bag and coat on the kitchen chair. Patton lit up again, and darted into the living room, retrieving a small, white box.

“I got you a present!” Patton hummed placing the box before his boyfriend.

Virgil looked skeptically at the bakery logo, and then back up at Patton with an arched brow. “Is this your way of breaking up with me? Because I gotta say, a break-up cake is a solid plan. At least this way I can eat my feelings.”

Patton snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not breaking up with you kiddo. Just open it!!”

Virgil shook his head, and carefully peeled back the top of the box. A few silent moments passed as Virgil read the top of it’s frosting decorations before his expression dropped. He looked up to Patton who was sporting a pleading smile.

“Patton, why does this cake say ‘Sorry I adopted two ferrets and a snake?’”

“Look, I know you said you didn’t want any pets, but I was volunteering at the shelter and I just fell in love-”

“Patton no.”

“They just looked so sad in that shelter, Virgil!! I just had to take them home!!!”

“Patton noooooo-”

“Please just meet them first! Emile is super cuddly and Remy so cute- he looks like he’s wearing little sunglasses!”

“Hnnnnnnnnnnnnggg fiiiiinnnneeee. Where are they?” Virgil groaned, and Patton cheered. The little ball of sunshine eagerly grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and leading them to their apartment’s office.

Sure as shit, in there where Virgil’s butterfly collection had been there was a giant cage with two long furry boys, and off to the side was a big ole’ tank with a small ball python curled up in on itself.

Patton bounded inside, gently handling the ferrets out of his cage and snuggling one while the other climbed onto his shoulder. “Okay so this white one is Emile. He’s super affectionate for a ferret and he loves sand baths. His grey brother here is Remy and he’s the reason they ended up in the shelter. The family that owned them didn’t like how Remy would run around all night but I figured since we stay up pretty late that wouldn’t be much of a problem right kiddo? Virgil? uh-”

Patton turned around to find his boyfriend locked into a staring contest with the ball python from behind the glass tank. The little snake had it’s head pulled out and was staring almost nose-to-nose with Virgil. A long moment of silence passed before Virgil finally spoke.

“What if we called this one ‘Despacito.’”

“Virgil no.”

“Better yet, DespaYEETo.”

“…Only if we can call him Dee for short.”

“We’ll talk about it.” Virgil winked. And Patton beamed brightly. He just knew he’d be able to talk Virgil into keeping these three. I mean come on? Who could say no to these adorable faces?!?!

[buginabog]

Am I Dreaming Or Dead?

Summary: ...sanders sides fantasy story. Purely self indulgent.

Pairing: royality, loceit, remile

Warning: death mention, sympathetic deceit, body horror (kinda)

-

People told you to never go into the woods.

People said those who went in never came back.

People said that monsters and ghosts roamed and that demons rose up from the pit.

So of COURSE Roman was going to explore.

"Roman? What are you doing?" Came a concerned call from behind him.

Roman groaned and turned to his twin brother, "I'm exploring the woods. Duh."

Logan raised an eyebrow, "the woods that no one has ever come back from?"

Roman laughed, "I didn't know you believed the tales Lo!"

Logan huffed, "I dont. But that doesn't change that those woods in particular are infested with dangerous creatures that will kill you."

"Added bonus then."

Logan groaned, "I swear, you'll give me a heart attack, you overdramatic, ridiculous, idiotic man."

Roman grinned, "I'm just going in for a few minutes, I'll only go a few feet. I promise."

Logan sighed, "fine."

Roman smiled and stepped inside the trees. He walked through the woods, his feet crunching on the pine straws carpeting the ground. He looked around, expecting to feel different, and sighed when nothing happened. He turned to his brother, "you were right Lo!" He turned around, "theres nothing he-" he broke off.

The thing that had caused his voice to stop dead in his throat was a small, floating blue thing. Unintelligible whispers came from it. Roman took a step toward it, sure that if he got closer it would tell him its secrets.

"Roman? Come on, let's go home!" Logans voice broke Roman out of his stupor. The wisp vanished.

"Oh... yeah! Coming!" Roman's gaze lingered on where the wisp was, and he turned and ran out of the woods.

-

Later that night, Roman had a strange dream.

The wisp was there, and it led him deeper and deeper into the forest, where a smiling man, with a freckled face and blue eyes, smiled and extended his arms. As if to give Roman a hug. Something in his face reminded Roman of someone. But he couldnt quite remember...

Roman woke up, panting. He got dressed in a frenzy, grabbing a bag and some food, before rushing to the forest and running in, looking around desperately for the wisp. Almost crying when he didnt see it. Then it turned up, with it's strange, haunting whispers. "You..."

The wisp bounced up and down. "Where do you want to take me?"

The wisp whispered, barely loud enough for Roman to hear, "follow."

Roman nodded, "ok"

The wisp took off, Roman running after it, so focused on it, that he didnt realize the tree roots moving out of his way, the branches moving to form a hallway. He followed the wisp so far that the trees grew taller than most of the buildings in his town, to a little glade where you couldnt see a hint of air pollution. The stars so clear and beautiful.

The sound of sobbing brought Roman to the present, he looked around, and saw the man from his dream. "Hello?"

The mans head jerked up and around, "oh, child... who brought you here?"

Roman looked around, "a- a wisp, but... where?"

The man smiled sadly, "ah, the tricksters."

Roman frowned, "what do you mean, 'the tricksters'? Who are you?"

The man shook his head, "its unwise to use names in the forest. If you must refer to me, call me Morality. As for the tricksters, they led you here for the hunters."

Roman growled, "who are the hunters!?"

Morality frowned, "it will be sunrise soon, you must leave the forest before the sun appears. Or the hunters will find you." Roman looked around nervously, "do you know the way home?"

Roman shook his head, "I followed the wi- trickster, here."

Morality nodded, "I see. Well, be on your way."

Roman stared, dumbstruck, "...but, I don't know how to get home..."

Morality smiled, "all roads lead home child, although not all lead back."

Roman groaned and turned around, "helpful. Could you at least point me the right-" he turned around to see... no one, "way?"

Roman set off through the forest, trying to guess the way back. As the moon dipped closer to the horizon, his search grew more and more desperate. Finally, the sky turned blood red, and then blue.

A howl sounded in the distance, followed by the sound of wild laughter. Roman's heart pounded, and he ran. He ran anywhere, with no goal in mind. He just needed to get away from that haunting howl and the terrifying laughter.

A creaking sound followed him. The sound trees would make if they could run. The laughter came with it.

Roman fell.

He looked back to see a thorny vine twisted around his legs, growing closer and closer to his torso. He tried and tried to push the brambles off. The vines only grew faster.

Morality appeared in front of him, tears falling down his face, "I'm sorry child."

Roman sobbed in despair, struggling against his thorny bonds. He managed to choke out one word, "why?"

Morality sobbed harder, "I- I hoped you could save me..." he conjured an image in his palms, "if someone destroys this, you and I, and all the others, will be freed." In his palms was the image of a crystal in a flowered field.

Roman looked around, and saw a man that looked just like Morality wrapped in vines. He looked around, and saw so, so many other forms wrapped in vines.

"Victims of the woods." Morality said sadly. "People who ventured into the woods."

The vines reached Roman's eyes. The last thing he saw was regret on Morality's face.

-

Roman woke up in the clearing he met Morality in.

Morality was sitting in the clearing, sobbing again. "Morality? What's happening?"

Morality looked st him in terror, "what are you doing here? They never come back after the hunters get them..."

"They?"

"The other people the tricksters preyed upon... they all moved on to... whatevers next."

"But...I didnt?"

Morality frowned, "no. You didnt."

-

Ten Years Later

-

Virgil walked downstairs, yawning. He could smell his favorite for dinner. Pizza.

"Hey L, Dee."

Declan smiled, "hey edge lord."

"Hey snake face."

Declan laughed, "that's a new one!"

Virgil gave a little bow, "thank you. It took me a gruelling 3 seconds to come up with."

Logan frowned, "3 seconds doesnt sound very gruelling?"

Declan rested a hand on his husbands shoulder, "sarcasm, dear," he explained.

Logan opened his mouth in a silent "oh" and went back to eating his pizza.

Virgil grimaced at Declans pizza, "I will never understand how you eat that." He said, gesturing to the pineapple-covered monstrosity.

Declan raised an eyebrow in Virgil's direction, "says the man who eats pizza with ranch."

Virgil snickered and started to eat.

They ate in silence for a while, before Declan looked at Virgil and cleared his throat, "Virgil?"

Virgil looked up, "yeah?"

Declan chewed the piercings on his bottom lip for a minute before speaking, "well, I got a new job opportunity, and Logan has a family house in a town near it. And we..."

"Have to move." Logan finished brusquely, his expression and voice cold.

Virgil frowned, "okaaay. L, you ok? You kinda look like you're about to murder someone."

Logans hand curled into a fist on the table, "it's fine. Just... some bad memories from that place."

Virgil nodded slowly, "ok. Well, cool."

Declan smiled, "oh thank fuck."

-

Virgil looked out the window of the car as they pulled up to big house that was Logans old house. It looked grand but empty, like all the life had been sucked out of it years ago.

Declan pulled into the driveway, "well, we're here." He turned to look at Virgil, "you sure you're good?"

Virgil smiled and nodded, "I'm fine Dee-Dad."

Declan chuckled, "nooooooo. I thought you forgot that!"

Virgil grinned evily, "nope."

Declan laughed, "well, Logan'll be here tomorrow with the truck. But in the meantime, let's get settled. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

-

Two days later, most of the furniture was in the house, but there were still boxes everywhere. Virgil was overwhelmed by the clutter and decided to go exploring for a quiet spot to sit.

He had seen a forest on the edge of town when he and Dee drove in, so he decided to head there. He was nearing the edge when he heard a terrified voice cry out, "VIRGIL! NO!"

Virgil turned around to see Logan running toward him with a terrified look on his face, "L? What's up?"

Logan clutched his shoulders so hard it stung, "Virgil, you must promise me you will never, EVER, go into those woods. Do you understand?"

Virgil frowned, "L, wha-"

"PROMISE ME."

Virgil blinked. He couldnt remember a single time Logan had yelled at him. Not even when he ran away. "...I promise."

Logan sighed, "thank you. I apologize for my outburst but... just dont go into the forest."

Virgil nodded, and looked at the woods, trying to see what was so dangerous about them, when he saw a man standing there, looking, stricken, at Logan.

-

Roman looked at his brother, so grown up now. And the kid next to him, was that his son? ...He couldnt believe it. While he was frozen in time, everyone changed around him. He ran back to his clearing, eager to tell Morality what he had seen.

-

As Logan looked at Virgils faraway expression, terror gripped him. That same expression had been on Roman's face the day before... no. He couldnt think of that now. He had a son who needed him, and he was never, ever gonna let the forest take someone from him again.

-

Ten Years Ago

-

Logan yawned as he walked downstairs. "Logan, would you be a dear and wake your brother?" His mom called from the kitchen.

"Yeah. Sure." He walked back up and knocked on Roman's door, "hey dork. Wake up."

He frowned when there was no dramatic answer or offended gasp, and opened the door himself.

The window was open, curtains blowing in the wind. A note laid on the pillow.

'I saw something in the woods. And I had a weird dream. I think it's a sign. If I'm not back in the morning... well, I think you can know what happened. I love you bro. Love, Roman.'

Logan gasped in horror and ran downstairs clutching the note, "MOM, DAD!"

An hour later, he sat on the couch bei ng comforted by his boyfriend as his Dad frantically called everyone in town.

No one had seen Roman.

All Logan could say was, "my fault."

-

Ten Years Later

-

Virgil paced around his room. Who was the man in the forest? Why was Logan so scared of it? Why did the man look like he knew Logan? The man in the woods looked just like Logan, why? Virgil frowned when an idea came into his head.

He tiptoed downstairs into the living room, and a light switched on.

Logan sat there, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than Virgil had ever seen it. "Virgil? Where are you going?"

Virgil frowned, "you look like shit."

Logan sighed, "I know I just... had to make sure you wouldn't sneak out to the forest."

Virgil frowned, "trust me dad, I'm not."

Logan sighed in relief and leaned back, "ok. What do you need?"

Virgil looked at the small bookshelf full of photo albums, "did you have a twin brother?"

Logan froze, "Did Declan tell you?"

Virgil shook his head, "no, no, just... in the woods, I saw a man that looked like you."

Logan gasped and stood up. As he paced he muttered under his breath, "no... that's not possible... it's been ten years... he would've come back if he was alive..."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'if he was alive'?"

Logan looked at Virgil, "take me to where you saw him."

Virgil frowned, "but you sai-"

"Virgil." Logan looked to his son with tears in his eyes, "please..."

Virgil gasped, Logan NEVER cried, "yeah... yeah ok dad."

Logan nodded and walked out towards the car.

-

Logan pulled up next to the woods, where Virgil had seen the man, Roman, Logan told him.

Logan ran to the edge, never stepping past the tree line, calling Roman's name. Virgil ran after him, making sure his dad never strayed too close.

Hours after they started their search, Roman appeared. Logan glared at the sadly smiling man, and started to yell. "You... you... you IDIOT! Do you have ANY idea how much I grieved for you! Do you have any idea how you affected ALL of us? The LEAST you could've done was SHOW UP at the house but NOOOOO! Roman Sanders needs to be DRAMATIC! I thought you were DEAD!"

Roman just looked at him.

Logan broke down sobbing, "SAY something goddamnit! SAY SOMETHING TO ME COWARD!"

Roman opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Logan frowned at him, "Roman what-?"

Roman stuck his tounge out, but it was brown and... sharp? Then Virgil realized... it wasnt his tounge.

It was a thorny vine, growing out of Roman's mouth... longer and longer until it reached the ground. Then Virgil blinked, and it was gone. Along with Roman himself.

"Dad? ...what was that?"

Logan stared at the spot Roman had been.

"Dad?"

Virgil's terrified voice snapped Logan back to reality, "get to the car..."

Virgil turned and ran without another road, Logan close behind.

-

"Dad? Where are we going?"

Logan looked back at his son, "to see the craziest person in town. The one who knows the woods the best."

Virgil nodded, and was quiet for a while before asking, "what happened to uncle Roman?"

Logan sighed, "he was an idiot, and decided that he just HAD to explore the woods. I saw him, and I didnt stop him... he only went a few feet but... he saw something... and that night he snuck out-"

"So THATS why you were waiting in the living room!"

"...yes. But, he snuck out, and I never saw him again."

"Until tonight?"

"Yeah. Until tonight."

-

Logan pulled into a house with a lawn overgrown with weird smelling plants and trees. The roof looked on the verge of collapse and the garage had fallen in on itself.

"Logan? It looks like no one lives here."

Logan shook his head, "no... he just never cleans up the outside."

Logan walked up and knocked on the door, "Picani?"

The door creaked open slowly. Virgil held his breath, expecting to see a haggard old witch.

He did not expect the beaming man who jumped at Logan to hug him. "Logi!"

Logan smiled, "Hey Emile, hows Remy?"

Emile grinned, "oh he's wonderful! Hes actually inside with Kai right now!"

Logan frowned, "Kai?"

"Our son!"

Logan gasped and smiled, "oh my god, Emile! That's wonderful!"

Virgil frowned, "I thought we were going to see the craziest person in town?"

Logan laughed, "oh yeah! Virgil, this is Dee's brother, your uncle Emile!"

Emile held out his hand, "hey there!" He frowned at Logan as he shook Virgils hand, "'craziest person in town'?"

Logan looked sheepish, "welllll-"

Emile rolled his eyes, "Remy's not crazy. Logan just thinks so because he's seen the things in the forest."

Logan became serious very quickly, "ah, speaking of, I need to speak to him."

Emile frowned, "Logi? What happened?"

Logans eyes started tearing up again, "I- I saw Roman... in the woods."

Emile frowned, "yeah, ok."

He turned and beckoned them in. Virgil followed Logan as they walked in.

-

Emile walked into the kitchen, where a man wearing sunglasses inside for some reason was trying to get a toddler to go to bed.

"Kai hon, please go to bed? You're gonna be tired and cranky tomorrow."

"But I wanna stay awake up with you and Papa!"

"I know you do sweetheart but I'm gonna go to bed soon sweetie."

Kai pouted and started tugging on his dads onesie "Daaaaaaaad!"

Emile laughed and scooped Kai up, "hes not going to bed then?"

Remy sighed and kissed his husband, "no. No he is not." He poked Kai in the stomach, "the little troublebug!"

Kai squealed, "Dad! Noooooo!"

Remy laughed, but his face quieted when he saw Logans tear-streaked face, "...Lo?"

Kai gasped, "Is that uncle Logan?"

Emile bounce Kai up and down, "why dont you join Ellie upstairs ok sweetheart?"

"Whys uncle Logan here?"

"He has to talk to Dad about something."

"Can I hear?"

"No sweetie, go join your sib upstairs."

"I-" Kai stopped talking to yawn, "I dont wanna, I'm not sleepy yet!"

"But Elliott wants you to say goodnight to them!"

Kai gasped, "can I sleep in Ellies bed?"

Emile smiled, "sure thing! Let's go ok?"

Kai nodded, smiling, "ok Papa!"

As they left Remy huffed in exasperation, "I spend thirty minutes trying to get that kid in bed and Emile does it in what? Five minutes?"

Logan laughed, "tough life my friend."

Remy turned to Logan, "so. What do you need?"

Logan sighed, "look, Remy-"

"Nope. Why are you here."

"Remy."

"I dont want to hear it. Why are you here?"

"I saw Roman."

Remy froze, "...where?"

"In the woods."

"What happened?"

"I-I yelled at him, and, and then... thorns started... started growing out of his mouth."

"Thorns?"

"Like a thorny vine."

Remy turned to Virgil, "did the kid see it too?"

"...yes."

"Ok, leave."

"Remy-"

"Its not because I'm mad at you. Its because kids are easier to read. So, out."

Logan looked at Remy for a second, "ok." He turned to his son, "dont worry, Remys a good person. I'll be right outside if it gets to much ok?"

"Ok dad."

Remy put a hand on their sunglasses, "I'm gonna take these off, dont freak out when you see my eyes, k?"

"Ok."

Remy took off his sunglasses and his eyes...

His eyes were a kaleidoscope.

Virgil shrunk under those multicolored eyes, feeling as if they were sinking into every inch of him, reading all of his experiences, all of his thoughts... all of his feelings. "Stop... stop... STOP! DAD! DAD!"

Logan burst in and grabbed Virgils shoulders, "Virgil. Virgil honey I need you to look at my eyes."

"But... but the breathing... the breathing stuff."

"Virgil."

Virgil met Logans eyes and stared into their calming blue. And his breathing slowed and clamed.

Logan glared at Remy, "Remus Orion Somnus!"

Remys eyes widened, "shiiiiiit" he said under his breath.

"Didnt you WARN HIM?"

"I- I told him not to- not to freak out but- but I-"

"That doesnt COUNT! You have to tell them about how it feels dumbass!"

Remy sneered and sat up, "I wouldnt have to if you hadnt LOST Roman!"

Logans face stilled, "Virgil. We're leaving."

Virgil looked up at Logan, "but what about Roman?"

Logan stood up, pulling Virgil gently with him, "we'll... we'll get him back some other way."

Remy got up and stalked out, "like he'd want to see YOU."

Logan stormed out, tears streaming down his face.

-

(I ran out of room so I guess this is multichaptered now? Reply is you want more.)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Prince

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

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

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

Read on Ao3

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

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

Word Count: 7611

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

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

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

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

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

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

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

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

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

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

Then fear.

———————————

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

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

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

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

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

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

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

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

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

Well, more than occasionally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

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

“I’m certain that you must be…”

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

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

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

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

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

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

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

Janus’s eyes go wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

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

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

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

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“…no.”

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

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

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

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

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

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

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

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

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

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

Oh, this poor little prince…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…maybe.”

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

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

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

“…do you want me to kill you?”

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

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

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

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could’ve held on.”

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

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

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

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

“What is it, little prince?”

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

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

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

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

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

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

“…I got scared of being outside.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you…care?”

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

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

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

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

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

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Splendid.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

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

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

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

Then he spots the blood.

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

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

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

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

“Keep your voice down.”

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

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

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

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

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

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

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

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

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

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

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

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

“Remus.”

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

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

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

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

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

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

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

Roman glances at the door again.

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

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

“R-Remus?”

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

“Remus Sanders?”

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

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

Not dead?

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

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

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman jerks his head up and down.

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

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

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

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

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

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

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

This could be a problem.

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

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

And still, that loyalty wavers.

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

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

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

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

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

“I can try.”

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

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

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

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

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

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There isn’t one.

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

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

Remus trails off into silence too.

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

This is dangerous.

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

But not anymore.

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

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

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

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

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

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

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

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

“So what now?”

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman nods.

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

There’s a pause.

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

“Still am.”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman just shakes his head.

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

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

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[whqreforstevengrant]

Sander Sides Highschool AU

i’m gonna link the post with all the info here, so just come back to this later in the day of August 29th. I just wanted to put this massive glowup in my art out there.

yes this is a redraw of my original AU.