#except maybe Remus but fuck i have so many questions about that

[leavesandbounds]

Now that Janus is canon in Roleslaying we can all agree Roman and Youngblood are gonna meet Patton in Frogtown right? Like, that’s totally going to happen

[mollymarymarie]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for tagging me @squintclover you treasure ❤️😘 i'm gonna make this a keep reading, because i get wordy

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

In total, I have 39 works on Ao3

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

so i didn't know this but apparently i have over a million words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I don't write for HP anymore, but that's the majority of my fics. I have a few for the marvel universe and two weird real people fics (which now give me the ick so i won't be writing those anymore either)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Dear Your Holiness (lots of people share my priest kink apparently)

The Road Not Taken (for the angst, i'm sure)

The Lad That Loved You (it's my oldest wolfstar fic)

Bird Set Free (figure skating, Yuri On Ice, what's not to love)

When It Counted (this one sort of surprises me, but it's amortentia-based, so I think that aspect is the draw)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! not as often as i'd like but i do read them all right away, i have notifications for ao3 comments turned on. in that way, i get to enjoy them twice!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a short oneshot called Midnight about Halloween 1981 and I have another one called Where The Willow Don't Bend about Remus being a ghost at Hogwarts. I think those both end pretty angsty

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In general, all my fics have happy endings. i go to fiction to escape the fact that almost nothing in life has a happy ending so i don't really like ending stories with anything except happiness. I really like the ending of We Can Pretend - they're in love, they get to be together, they're in Paris, their friends are all there with them, they're singing Nat King Cole to each other on a balcony while coq au vin is on the stove. fantasy scenario tbh.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

sure do. i won't list it. one thing that happens (which isn't exactly hate, but it makes me laugh) is when people criticize the fact that wolfstar are mentioned as having greys in The Road Not Taken because they're only 28/29 so they can't possibly have grey hair lol (i definitely had greys by that age, 100%)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeah most of my fic is smut, but i'm sort of getting away from that. the TENSION is the best part, in my opinion.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

nah, not really interested, i guess.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so. my fics have been put up on other sites without my permission but my name was still attached to it, at least.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

a few! usually DYH. it's always nice to have someone ask for permission to translate.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, mostly because i'm a control freak lol

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

it used to be wolfstar (kinda soured on me for multiple reasons, the biggest one being JKR is a piece of shit and getting associated with her works is not fun)

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

back when i was watching Preacher, i was (still am) obsessed with Joe Gilgun, so i definitely have a Proinsias Cassidy fic in the WIPs somewhere that will never get finished, but i do go back to it from time to time because, i mean, irish vampire. give it to me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

do i have any???? people tell me i do tension well. maybe that?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

first of all, NOT PLANNING AHEAD, figuring it out as i go and then having to go back and change a bunch of shit when i inevitably fuck it up. also, commas. i use FAR too many commas. i won't be stopped.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i have a few fics that i have done that for. with French, with Russian, and now with Portuguese. it's difficult, Google Translate will only get you so far, but i LOVE languages so much. people will usually politely correct me

19. First fandom you wrote for?

OH TRUTH BE TOLD the Good Charlotte fandom, i am not even joking you right now. wrote an ENORMOUS self-insert fic for me and my friends with the members of Good Charlotte (i was with Benji, obviously) at the age of like 15 and the plot was SO fucking ridiculous. i mean. john mayer was there, ville valo from HIM was there (the main character had dated both of them before benji, of course). Elijah Wood was in there at some point and i think he was a murderer???? i should do a dramatic re-telling of what happens in this fic over tumblr (i will not post it, it is so so badly written)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

truthfully, i think it's Dear Your Holiness. i wrote that just after losing my grandmother and all of the conversations about faith still sort of hit me in the gut even now. plus the tension is really nice, i love the idea of a heavily tattooed Remus, and it's the music of my teenage years so it's very sentimental for that reason, too.

[bethansfandoms]

from arwa on instagram: “remus and sirius are both drunk as hell at james’ birthday party or something and they make out drunkenly, neither of them having expressed their feeling for each other - they wake up together the next day in bed and it’s all awkward”

Remus knew he couldn’t have been the drunkest at the party when Sirius and James stood on a table, took off their shirts, and started singing Bohemian Rhapsody with their wands held to their throats so their voices were amplified.

He really did have no idea why their shirts had to be off in order to do this. Sober Remus would’ve recognised that, by every definition, James and Sirius’ rendition of the song was horrible. It was unbearably loud, their voices were slurred from alcohol, and they couldn’t hit half of the notes.

Drunk Remus found himself thinking that Sirius was rather good at singing and that he looked good with a shirt off. Of course, it was no new revelation to Remus that he was desperately in love with his best friend, but whilst sober Remus would’ve avoided looking at a shirtless Sirius under all circumstances, drunk Remus didn’t seem to be shy about rather obviously staring.

Remus also concluded that although he was definitely very drunk, Peter must be further gone than him as he had decided to take his shirt off too, maybe for solidarity, and start dancing in circles as Sirius and James approached the high note. Remus was curios as to whether they’d actually hit it.

The answer was no, obviously. Sirius went for the sensible approach of singing the correct note but an octave down. James decided to really go for it and he was absolutely nowhere close. All of Gryffindor were jumping around nonetheless and so it only seemed fair that he joined in.

Sirius leapt from the table when Remus began dancing and quickly grabbed his wrists to spin them both around. It made Remus feel a little nauseous but he laughed and went along with it anyway.

Sirius never did jump back on the table to complete the song with James. Instead he drunkenly threw an arm around Remus and started swaying with him.

“We should do this more often!” He shouted.

Remus laughed, “We can’t exactly do James’ birthday more often, Pads.”

“I meant dancing! I love dancing.”

“I hate it.”

Sirius pouted, “Not even with me?”

Because Remus was drunk, he told the truth. “When it’s with you, I may make an exception.”

This answer seemed to please Sirius and he wrapped his arm tighter around Remus before belting out the final few notes of the song. James did a bow and then promptly fell straight off of the table. Sirius and Remus just giggled and left Lily to help him.

“Are you tired?” Sirius asked. He’d leant in close to ask the question as even without James’ singing, the music was still very loud.

“Why?”

“You’re always tired and it’s almost two in the morning.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “I’m not always tired.”

“Are too.” Sirius stuck out his tongue and Remus did it straight back. “I’m tired.”

“Go to bed then.”

Sirius looked towards the stairs and groaned, “But... too many stairs. I’ll fall, Remus, the drinks make me wobbly.” He giggled at that and Remus found himself laughing as well.

“Here, I’ll help you.” He wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and the two of them made their way to the stairs, Sirius occasionally bursting into fits of laughter for no apparent reason.

“You’re very cute, Remus, have I ever told you that?”

Remus felt himself flush and began dragging him up the stairs. “I don’t think you have told me that, no.”

“Well, then I shall do so more often! You’re always helping us, Moony.”

“Thanks, Pads. Look, I’m almost as drunk as you, I can’t pull you up these stairs.”

Sirius gave some sort of battle cry before he started running up towards the dormitory at full speed. This was very short lived and he immediately tripped over his own foot. Fortunately, Remus caught him.

“Nice catch,” Sirius joked. “You should be keeper.”

Remus gave him a sarcastic laugh before hugging him close again and making it up the final few steps.

Sirius collapsed straight into bed, Remus’ bed, and sighed in relief.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes, Sirius.” Sirius gave him a dramatic wink before shedding his trousers, his shirt already abandoned somewhere in the common room, and taking his hair out of it’s lopsided bun. “That’s my bed, by the way.”

Sirius grinned and pulled the covers over himself. “Yours is comfier, don’t know how. You coming to sleep then?”

Remus didn’t really know why, possibly because it was his bed after all, but he agreed. He rummaged around in his trunk to find a pyjama shirt and was too tired and too drunk to find the matching trousers and so kicked off his jeans and decided it’d be fine.

“Why all the long sleeved things?” Sirius asked, tugging on the sleeves of Remus’ tshirt as he slipped into bed next to him.

“I’m always cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.”

Remus gave him a light shove. “Also, my scars.”

“You and those bloody scars.” Sirius groaned, rolling onto his back. “They’re beautiful, Remus. You’re beautiful.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Sirius rolled back over onto his side, his nose only a few inches away now. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated. Then, he kissed him.

Because Remus wasn’t sober and because he’d wanted to do it for such a long time, he kissed back. Moments passed before Remus finally shoved him away. “No, Sirius, we’re drunk.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Of course I do,” he muttered. “I’ve wanted to for ages.”

Sirius grinned and kissed his cheek, “Me too.” His neck. “Wanted to tell you for so long.”

“Tell me what?”

Sirius just kissed him again as though it were an answer. Although, Remus found himself thinking that it was enough of an answer for him.

Remus was sharply awoken by both the pounding in his head and at the door. “Let me in!” James was shouting.

Remus hadn’t actually been aware he’d locked the door. He rolled to get out of bed and then froze. There was an arm around his waist. He sat up, slowly, and turned around. It was Sirius.

Then, the same way it did after full moons, small bits of the previous night started coming back to him. He half leapt into a standing position and quickly pulled on the jeans he’d discarded the previous night, almost tripping as he did.

Sirius groaned and slowly blinked awake, just as Remus pulled on the long sleeved tshirt that, at some point during the night, had also been removed. “Moony?”

“Uh, morning.”

“Tell James to piss off.” He rolled over in order to look at him and his eyes widened slightly. “What the fuck is that on your— oh.”

Remus quickly looked in the mirror and was greeted with three purple bruises on his collar bone. “Uh. Yeah. Get out of my bed and I’ll put James out his misery.

“Wait, Remus.” Sirius sat up, the duvet exposing his chest but keeping the rest of him firmly covered. “I— fuck.”

Remus bit his lip. He couldn’t comprehend multiple things. The first being how he’d been drunk enough to sleep with Sirius Black. The second being how Sirius Black had been drunk enough to sleep with him. “Look, can we just... just forget it, alright?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Is that what you want?”

If anything, Remus wished he could remember more. “Sirius, you’re my best friend. I won’t— we were drunk and... I can’t loose you because of this. Okay? So yes, I want us to be... us. So forget it.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Remus felt his heart speed up. “I...” He was thankful for James’ incessant banging at the door cut him off because he didn’t know what to say.

“Look, you’re right. We were drunk and I’d hate myself if this ruined us. I just— I know I probably said a lot of stupid shit last night but I also remember telling you you were beautiful? And I meant that. I regret that we were drunk but that’s the only bit I do regret.”

“Sirius,” Remus breathed. James was still banging on the door but neither made a move to let him in.

“If you wish it had never happened then of course I do as well, I didn’t want to take advantage—”

“You didn’t,” Remus said quickly. “I said I wanted to. I did, want to.”

“Me too. Look, Moony, you’re just... the best person I’ve met and I, uh, I think anything I said to you last night were all probably things I was just too scared to say whilst not drunk out of my mind. There. That’s all I have to say so, yeah. Your move.”

Remus decided James and his relentless pleas to be let inside could wait. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt on his bed, taking Sirius’ face in his hands and kissing him. He may have been horribly hung over, but in that moment he still felt happier than he had been in a long time.

Anyways I hate this, because that happens sometimes, but I hope you don’t :)

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

Tags:

@purple-vodka-99

@vampirestrawberries

Thanks for the 100 followers!❤

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

[prfctethereal]

bloodline. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play bloodline by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader (fake dating au)

summary: after lily breaks up with james, you offer to pretend to be lily over the christmas holidays

word count: 10k (i deeply apologise)

warnings: language, mentions of food and eating, sexual jokes and innuendos (nothing explicit or smut), a whole lotta angst but a whole lotta fluff

a/n: a can't believe i wrote so much for this man. anyway, this is probably my favourite thing i’ve ever written to enjoy - Kennedy

***

The common room was a ghostly quiet, but that was expected at this time of year. Tinsel decorated the mantelpiece by the fireplace, the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon wafting through the air. In the corner, a large, oak tree sat, it’s leaves standing tall and proud, juxtaposing against the scarlet walls. Christmas was the reason for this tranquil atmosphere.

Except, that wasn’t the case for everyone. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be going home for the holidays this year, opting to stay at Hogwarts to get in more study time. It felt like nearly all students were going away this year and the ever growing loneliness was catching up to you, weighing your mind down, a foggy haze resting over your eyesight.

You turned your head, looking up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly one in the morning, which meant that there were usually more students in the common room. The train was leaving back to London tomorrow - well, today - so you assumed that they would all be getting some rest. The only sound that filled the common room was the fire crackling and some light whimpering.

Light whimpering?

That definitely caught your attention. Straightening yourself up on the chair, your eyes scanned the dim room, searching for the source of the noise. It was quiet, but prominent, and it definitely sounded like someone crying. The sniffling painted a picture in your mind of someone’s broken face, eyes red and puffy.

There was something wrong though. Your intuition was getting the better of you. You recognised that voice, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Sure, you had friends, but you weren’t close to anyone, close enough to know what they sounded like when you cried.

By now, the crying was loud enough to attract the attention of anyone that would pass by. Your book, laid forgotten on your lap, was brushed aside, as you sat up, ready to find the source of the crying. There weren’t many places to hide in the common room, so it struck you as odd that you couldn’t see anyone.

Following the whines, you crept to the corner of the room, where the cries never stopped and seemingly carried on through the wall. A smile stretched across your face, a mystery forming in your head. Pressing your palms against the wall, your tenacious fingers searched the wallpaper for anything, small incisions, lumps, maybe a door handle. In the lack of light, you didn’t notice the small hole in the wall, letting your finger slip through the wallpaper. Curling around your knuckle, you tugged slightly, opening the secret door you had just found in the wall.

Letting the light slip into the tunnel, you noticed the figure curled up in a ball. His suave messy hair, paired with the thin, round glasses on the ground gave away that it was James Potter who was crying in a secret tunnel at one in the morning.

Your heart broke in an instant. James was actually a very close friend, having helped him and his marauders out multiple times on their pranks and overall mischief. You had met James in the first year and you were the bestest friend he had outside the marauders; he had told you multiple times. Many times you had laid together in the common room, shoulders touching, staring up at the ceiling, enjoying each other’s presence. It was comforting. He was comforting.

But right now, he needed comfort.

A lone piece of parchment was peeking out of his arms, which you carefully plucked away, not focusing on the ink scratched in. Soothing his shaking muscles, you ran your hands up his arms, him immediately calming down at your touch. When you felt like he was feeling better, you reached down, sitting against the wall next to him, placing your arm around his quivering figure. Your fingers found his lonely glasses on the ground, bringing them up to his face, trying to coax his hands away from his reddening cheeks.

The moment you met his eyes, you could feel his pain. His normally bright, cheerful eyes were filled with salty tears, staining his freckle-covered cheek in a sheen of sadness. It was the envisionment of pure anguish.

“Jamesie,” you started, voice quiet as to not shock the obviously patronised boy, quivering next to you, “can you tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you, love.”

“It’s-” He sniffed, voice croaky, “Lily. It’s Lily.” He struggled to keep his gaze on your face, opting to look at his fiddling fingers in this lap. “She broke up with me. A few hours ago.”

Your heart failed. Lily broke up with James? But they were perfect together. For the past two years, it was always James and Lily, Lily and James, high school sweethearts. They were so happy, so why would she end it?

The sadness creeping up inside of you soon turned to wrath, a fire burning wildly in your chest. Red clouded your vision as you felt your fist curl up in anger, fingernails digging into your skin. You only stopped when you felt James’ hand resting on yours.

“Why?” You asked. It was a dumb question, but it was the only thing that came to mind, wanting to keep the attention off of your growing asperity.

“Dunno,” James shrugged, turning back towards his corner. “She said that she wanted to take a break. Had no idea why though. Thought everything was going swimmingly.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, a nice contrast to his tearful expression.

“What a bitch, right before Christmas.” The words fell out of your mouth without you registering it, your eyes scanning the room as you chew thoughtfully on your bottom lip. You didn’t know how James' face grimaced at the mention of Christmas, a pink tint growing on his face, but not from the tears.

Turning around, you saw James with his head in his hands, an excreted groan vibrating from his vocal chords. “Fuck!” He swore, “She was supposed to be coming to meet my parents this Christmas. Now, I have to owl Mum to tell her that’s she’s not coming, oh no-”

He paused, rubbing his eyes together. “This is going to ruin Christmas. Mum and Dad are going to be fretting over me all Christmas. I wish she could’ve just waited until after the holidays.”

It really did seem like James was in a predicament. You had never met Euphemia or Fleamont Potter, but you did know that they were described to be some of the most lovely people to be blessed on this Earth. Even through your tight friendship, you hadn’t met them yet.

Then, another problem rushed through your mind. Lily was now going to be staying at Hogwarts during the holidays, and your blood was boiling. It was going to be difficult to stay in the same room as her without lashing out in defence of James.

“I don’t want to have to deal with Lily for a whole week.” You muttered under your breath, unaware that James was hanging onto every word you said.

“You’re not going away over the holidays?” James asked, eyebrows furrowed together as he scanned your face for any insight. Sighing, you shook your head in response.

“Nah, normally stay.” You pondered for a moment. “Do you think that Lily is gonna be unbearable over Christmas? I might as well just stay in the Room of Requirement all Christmas.”

Then, a thought came to your head. It was almost genius, a bright light twinkling in your eye, your mouth slightly agape. You sucked in a small breath, watching as James eyed you curiously, before a slim smile stretched across your face.

“I have an idea James, but please, I want you to stop me at any point if you feel uncomfortable with this. You are grieving in a way and I don’t want to undermine that. Promise me you’ll shut me down if you don’t like it, okay?” You noted that his head nodded up and down, letting you continue.

“What if I pretend to be Lily? Your parents have never met her before, right? Or me, for a matter of fact. I can come to yours for the holidays and pretend to be Lily to keep the Christmas cheer. When the week is up, we can stop fake dating and you can send a letter to your parents a few weeks later saying that Lily broke up with you. Christmas saved, no pestering parents, and I don’t have to spend a week with the insufferable Lily.”

There was a silence that followed, James gawking at the ground as his mind churned over what you had just said. Then, he spoke.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“If that’s okay with you. I mean, it’s just fake dating, right? For like a week? Are you okay with that?”

You exhaled a deep sigh of release, followed by a hearty chuckle. “Of course I’m okay with it. I suggested it, remember? And besides, we’re friends. Best friends, if anything. Everything will be fine.”

“What about Sirius and Remus? They’re staying over the holidays too. Are you sure they can keep the secret? That, you know, you’re not actually Lily Evans. You’re Y/N L/N.”

“Yeah, I think they can.”

***

“We can’t keep that secret.”

You and James and just explained what the plan was. It was the morning of December 21st, a fresh layer of snow had just been laid on the ground. Wrapped carefully in many layers, students of Hogwarts had bundled up into the crimson train, ready to go back to London for a week.

After explaining to Professor McGonagall that last minute plans meant you could go away in the holidays, she had let you onto the train, where the four of you sat in a carriage, laying out the details of you and James’ awkward plan to fake date for the Christmas holidays.

Sirius had found the whole prospect of the situation immensely funny and had been laughing ever since you told him. Remus - the more serious one of the two, ironically - wasn’t too keen on the idea, a look of disappointment plastered on his face like an angry parent.

“You can’t just lie to Euphemia and Fleamont. They’re your parents, James. Surely they’ll know you’re lying?”

“That’s the brilliant thing!” James had surely brightened up overnight. After talking for a bit, you helped James into bed, hoping that a good night sleep would change his mood slightly. Unexpectedly, his mood changed more than slightly; almost drastically. He was cheerful, his teeth glowing in the daybreak sun, enthusiastic talks from across the common room. It was a rather stark constraint from the glum Lily Evans who was moping around, as if she was the one who got dumped only the night before. “They’ll never know! They haven’t met Lily, nor Y/N! Sure, they’ve heard about both, but they won’t connect the dots.”

Anxiously, Remus looked at Sirius for guidance, except Sirius hadn’t stopped laughing, glistening tears of joy beading at his waterline, a hand clamped over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his tomfoolery, focusing your attention on the still uncertain lycanthrope.

“Remus, please?” You begged, pouting your lips. “It’s just one week. Please just lie for one week.”

It seemed as if his brain was clicking into place because after a moment, a smile replaced with frown, with him sticking his hand out. Eagerly shaking it in agreement, your mood lightened significantly.

The rest of the train ride, you went over everything that you needed to know about James and Lily’s relationship, if it came up. Firstly, they got together in February of year five, 1976. You fake barfed at the fact that their relationship sprouted from Valentine’s day, an opinion that the others giggled at. Secondly, James had told his parents that Lily was a muggleborn, so you would probably get bombarded with questions about muggles. You didn’t mind though; you were muggleborn yourself.

Next, you had to make some rules to keep boundaries between James and yourself. First, let James answer questions about the relationship, while you have to make notes and remember. Second, only refer to you as Lily in communal spaces, as Euphemia or Fleamont could appear at any moment. Three, physical affection is fine, almost encouraged, but no kissing on the lips.

As everything was settled, the train pulled into King’s Cross Station, the horn blasting through, grabbing the attention of the energetic students, ready to stretch their legs. Nervously, you kept still in your seat, an anxious stomach ache coming on. You felt sweat beading at your forehead as you finally realised how nervous you actually were.

James took note of this though, grabbing your hand and rubbing the back of it soothingly, calming your tense nerves. It seemed impossible, this task at hand looming over you, but you had to keep calm. You knew you could; in all honesty, you didn’t know why you were feeling so worried all of a sudden. Giving in, you took James’ hand and followed the three boys out onto the platform.

You followed the gaze of the three of them before your eyes landed on an older looking couple. A lady was standing there, dark brown hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, streaks of grey peaking through. Harsh smile lines protruded through her skin, a warm and inviting look on her face. Next to her, a taller looking man stood proudly next to what you assumed to be his wife. His feathery hair was combed back and the same round glasses as James sat comfortably on his peaky nose. You could only assume that this was Euphemia and Fleamont Potter.

Walking over, you stayed quiet as James greeted his parents first, pulling them into a tight hug. Immediately, you noticed how much of a mummy’s boy James was when you saw him unconsciously seeking comfort from his mother. It hurt to see him not being able to get what he needed in the moment. You looked away, afraid that you might’ve started to cry if you continued looking for any longer.

Fleamont greeted Remus and Sirius like they were his own sons, engulfing them in a hearty hug, lovingly slapping them on their backs. You watched as the affection oozed from James’ parents, a warm feeling growing in your chest. It was admiration.

Then, you felt a tug on your sleeve, looking back to see James’ trying to grab your attention. Giving him an inquisitive look, you noticed Euphemia, arms open, a beaming smile on her face.

“You must be Lily. Come in, dear.” It felt wrong as you dove into her arms, letting her motherly love wash over you like a tidal wave. Pulling apart, you felt the guilt twang in your chest, the name of Lily echoing in your mind.

That wasn’t you.

But you continued to smile. You smiled through your greetings with Fleamont. You smiled through the light banter they shared with James’ friends. You smiled through the small talk. You smiled through aparating to the Potter’s house.

As you stepped through the front door, you were greeted with an adorning archway, the walls endlessly covered with family photos. Everything about the house was inviting. A lingering smell of fresh baking settled in the house, as the light from the window perfectly captured the chandelier, a thousand rainbows dancing around the room.

As you stepped into the entrance way, you watched as Euphemia gestured the four of you up the staircase, down a hallway littered with doors. She stopped at a room, a sign with ‘Sirius’ on it, labelling you it belonged to. You beamed, remembering how this was now Sirius’ new home.

“I hope you don’t mind Remus bunking with you Sirius. I pulled out a spare mattress.” Euphemia addressed the two boys, who eagerly piled into the bedroom, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“You too, this way.” You looked over to James, but his face was contorted into something unreadable, only smiling when he noticed your staring, giving a reassuring squeeze of your hand. You brushed it off though, your mind blurred by the thought of following Euphemia.

“Here’s James’ room,” Euphemia stopped in front of a door that was decorated by a Gryffindor flag. “Make yourself at home, sweetheart. I hope you’re still okay with sharing the bed? James said that was fine in our last letter.”

You inhaled tightly through your nose, clenching your jaw. You looked back at James, whose face was once again turning a bright red, his lips slightly parted as stutters started to spill out. “Well- I- actually-”

“Sounds great, Euphemia. Thank you so much for your hospitality.” Impatient to leave the awkward situation, you gestured to James to enter his bedroom, trailing in behind you, keeping a faux smile on your face, up until the door closed behind you.

In an instant, apology after apology spluttered from James, trying to explain. You were vaguely listening, although you were more focused on the room around you. You liked the detail and the Gryffindor pride. Moving posters of different Quidditch players lined the walls, covering the red and white wallpaper. In a corner, a pile of muggle vinyls were stacked together, tied together by a pink ribbon, which you could only assume was gifted by Lily. The room was surprisingly tidy, different to the state of James’ dorms back in Hogwarts.

“I like your room.” You finally spoke, dragging a finger across a chest of drawers. A thin layer of dust rested on the pad of your finger, which you rubbed off on your skirt before turning back to the panicked boy before you.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Don’t worry about it, James.” You comforted him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You forgot; that’s okay! I honestly don’t mind. It’s sort of what I signed up for anyway.” You laughed, hoping James would join in. He did.

***

Dinner went alright. You stayed quiet most of the time, only speaking when spoken to. You didn’t think Euphemia or Fleamont noticed, but you did get a peculiar look from Sirius, seemingly smirking at the way James and your seats were placed so close together.

After excusing yourself from the dinner table, you helped out in the kitchen with Fleamont, drying the dishes and putting them away in the cupboards. You were lost in your own thoughts, drifting off, keeping a smooth rhythm as you stacked plates.

“Lily, can you pass me the soap dispenser please?” You almost didn’t register what he was saying, a muted hum escaping your lips, until you realised you were being addressed. After apologising profusely for your tardiness, you handled the soap bottle to Mr Potter and carried on, hoping he wouldn’t start a conversation.

He did anyway.

“How’s James been treating you?” Fleamont quipped, a sly grin on his face. You knew what he was implying and shook it off, trying to keep the conversation as ambiguous as possible.

“Good. He’s been good.” He didn’t seem to buy it. “Lovely as always.” You gulped discreetly, disguising your nervousness as a yawn, which wasn’t missed by Fleamont.

“My dear, you look tired. You better retire for the night.” Nodding and saying your goodnights, you trod up the stairs, into the bedroom, where you were met by James, where only pajama shorts, reading Quidditch Through The Ages on his bed. You smiled, knowing that it was one of his favourites. He looked up when he saw you enter, smiling sheepishly, pointing towards the ensuite door.

“You can get changed in there, love.” Humming in agreement, you took a spare change of clothes into the bathroom and quickly returned, having brushed your teeth and washed your face as well. It wasn’t that late, but you felt inordinately tired, feeling as though you could pass out.

Collapsing on the soft bed, you pulled the duvet covers over your torso, letting your head hit the soft pillow. You nearly missed James whispering a small “goodnight darling” before falling into a dreamless sleep.

***

Tuesday 22nd December

Day two of whatever this was supposed to be had begun. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, not uncommon as James had always been an early bird and must’ve opened them himself. He wasn’t in bed when you rolled over, but you did notice the harsh sound of running water and an overwhelming smell of apple shampoo seeping into the bedroom.

Getting into some fresh clothes, you heard the water stop, buttoning up the last button on your blouse as James waltzed back into the bedroom, before seeing you. He stood like a deer in the headlights, water running smoothly down this toned skin, wearing only a towel around his hips.

“Why is it that I always catch you shirtless?” You tried to end the awkwardness by making a joke, reaching into James’ drawers and pulling out the first shirt you saw, throwing it across the room.

Because of James’ Quidditch skills, his fast reflexes caught the soaring shirt, catching it in one hand, unintentionally flexing his biceps. You shouldn’t have been staring, but the situation was too hard to read.

After standing still for a moment, you regained intelligence, snapping yourself out of your gaze. Muttering a quick apology, you dashed out of his bedroom, closing the door behind you. Pressing your back to the newly closed door, you shut your eyes tight, trying to forget the fresh memory in your mind.

“Trouble in paradise?” You opened one of your eyes to see Remus standing there too, novel in hand, also having his back pressed against the closed door.

“Shirtless.” The only words that could fall out of your mouth, making Remus bark with laughter, before clamping his hand over his mouth, an inch of sympathy showing in his eyes.

“Can’t be that bad of a sight, can it?” He joked, egging you on. You clutched your hands up to your face, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, but the worse past was that there was still so much more to come.

“Shut up Lupin.” You stuck your tongue out playfully at Remus, before bolting down the hallway, hoping to help Euphemia out with breakfast, like you said you would last night at the dinner table.

You were efficient in the kitchen, once again keeping talk to a minimum. Except today, you were feeling more comfortable with Euphemia, a more natural conversation gracing your time. It felt easier to speak. Maybe it was the fact that you had just had a good sleep, or maybe it was that you were actually feeling somewhat at home at the Potter’s residence.

Just as the bacon seemed to be completely cooked, James bursted through the door, Sirius and Remus in tow. James seemed to be the only one nervous, as the other two boys sat down at the table gleefully. Dishing up the breakfast, you handed the plates out to everyone.

Lastly, you handed a plate to James, trying your hardest to not make eye contact. You only stiffened when you felt James’s soft fingers accidentally brush against yours, tensing your muscles immediately.

“There you go,” you spoke in a voice so everyone could hear, “sweetheart.” You hissed the last word out in gritted teeth. Instead of sitting next to James like last night, you opted to sit directly in front of him, something that didn’t go unnoticed by James himself, who gave you a curious look at your choice in seating arrangements.

But before he could talk with you about it, you had finished your breakfast, immediately bouncing back into the kitchen, avoiding all signs of the messy haired brunette who was lurking around the ground floor.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Mundane tasks, followed by awkward conversation, and running away. It wasn’t what you had thought when you offered the idea to fake date, but you realised how hard it actually was to pretend to be madly in love with someone.

It wasn’t until later in the night, when you were getting ready for bed, that you overheard James talking with Remus and Sirius. You knew you shouldn’t, but after hearing him say your name, you were too curious not to eavesdrop in. Pressing your ear against Sirius’ door, you prayed that Euphemia or Fleamont wouldn’t walk past any moment now.

“How’s it going with the whole fake dating thing?” It was Sirius’ voice, and there was a cheek to his voice. You rolled your eyes at his blatant teasing.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” It was James speaking this time. “Everything was going so well, especially yesterday, but after today, I’m a bit worried that my parents won’t believe.”

“What do you mean?” Remus’ voice held a question, an obvious inflection at the end of the sentence.

“I just wish she was a little more, you know,” a pause, “tactile. At least, a little more affection. She’s not playing the part well.”

You should’ve been hurt by James’ words but instead, you felt immense anger, and for what? You didn’t understand why you felt so annoyed by James’ harmless comment, but you did.

Begrudgingly, you languidly stomped back to James’ room, burying yourself under the covers, pretending to be asleep. You didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, in fear that you would just snap at him for the comments that he was making behind your back.

When James came back in about half an hour later, you felt a feeling of pressure being lifted from your chest, breathing easily as James tucked himself on the other side of you. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it was so much easier to sleep now that you knew that James was beside you. And so you did.

***

Wednesday 23rd December

It was an accident. You didn’t mean to wake up at the piss crack on dawn, wrapped in James’ arms. Sometime during the night, your sleeping form must’ve found its way to James. Your head was tucked in the crook of his neck, the soothing sound of his heartbeat rippling out. You felt safe.

Until you remembered that you were supposed to be mad at James. Carefully so you didn’t wake him, you slipped out of his arms, letting yours legs fall off the edge of the bed. Your warm toes made contact with cold hard wooden floors, making you jolt up in surprise. Looking back, you saw that James was still asleep, so you sighed, peeling out of the bedroom.

It was winter, so it wasn’t even that early in the morning. The grandfather clock in the living room was showing that it was just about to be seven, and that was good enough for you. Taking initiative, you decided to start cooking breakfast yourself, remembering the open invitation Euphemia gave you to use the kitchen whenever you want.

Cozying up to the stove, you placed the palms of your hands just over the radiating heat of the stove top, reveling in the delicious warmth that was defrosting every muscle in your body. Your mind was working overtime, trying to remember what James’ favourite breakfast was.

If James wanted an affectionate girlfriend, then he was going to get himself an affectionate girlfriend.

Mixing together a sweet pancake batter, you welcomed Euphemia into the kitchen. Praises filled the room, as you poured the dough into the pan, letting the bubbles rise to the top. In the meantime, you took out the bowl of fresh strawberries in the fridge, letting them come to room temperature on the kitchen counter tops.

Once again, James entered the kitchen right as you were serving up. Making sure it was as noticeable as possible, you sent a massive wink his way, catching him off guard. Grabbing a chopping board from the cupboard, you started slicing the tops off of the strawberries, to which James stopped you.

“Let me help darling.” He spoke, his morning voice making you feel something in your stomach that you weren’t expecting. Butterflies? Surely not. You shook the thought away, focusing back on flipping the pancakes on the stove tops.

After serving another freshly cooked pancake, your attention was pulled to James, a dopey smile on his face, strawberry juice staining his lips. “Y/- Lily, come over here.”

A bitter feeling rose in your chest at hearing Lily’s name, but you pushed it away, walking over to James’ workstation. He had a strawberry in his hand, beckoning you over to taste it. An idea sprouted in your head as you sashayed over, swinging your hips slightly.

You did what James wanted you to do, bending over slightly to place your lips around the sweet berry, letting your loving ‘boyfriend’ feed you. What he didn’t expect was after you had eaten the strawberry, you latched into his hands, wrapping your mouth around his fingers and gently sucking off the rest of the strawberry juice. It had caught him off guard but that’s what you wanted.

Today he was going to get all the affection you could give him.

At the breakfast table, you sat beside him, resting your hand on his thigh as you ate, leaning into him as you laughed at a joke Sirius had made. It wasn’t that funny but you wanted to prove a point. You wanted to prove that you could play the part of the doting girlfriend.

Soon, after breakfast, the Potter’s decided to go for a walk, so everyone joined in. Wrapping each other up in as much warm clothing as possible, everyone bundled outside together, minding the brisk breeze that was blowing through.

Holding James’ hand, you strolled calmly together, leaning your cheek against his arm and shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, but he didn’t keep sending you strange looks as you continuously clutched his arm, running your fingers up and down his skin. You couldn’t tell if the goosebumps were from hesitation or the cold.

It started snowing quite heavily so they decided to head back inside. James and Remus had been caught up in conversation for most of the walk, about who was better at wizard’s chess and had agreed to a competition to decide for once and for all.

Curled up on the couch, you sat beside James, one and curled around a mug of cocoa and the other places upon James’ thigh. He let you, nodding when you hesitated on placing your hand there the first time.

About an hour into their little competition, you felt a haze settle upon your eyes, rendering you tired. It was late afternoon though, not a good enough time to go to bed. Yawning, you placed your mug down on the coffee table, and stretched out over the couch, placing your head down on James’ lap. Subconsciously, his left hand followed the movements of your head, latching onto a piece of your hair and twirling around his finger.

You never slept, but you rested your eyes. You didn’t know for how long until you felt the familiar sound of Euphemia’s dream-like voice, calling you to dinner. Hurriedly, you placed a mushy kiss against James’ cheek and sat in the usual spot at the dinner table.

By now, conversation flowed more easily than it did the day before. You were now beginning to feel safe in the Potter environment, opening up to everyone more, letting yourself join the conversation.

When you were going off the bed, you placed one last public kiss on James’ cheek before lacing your hands together, pulling him up to the bedroom and winking at Sirius and Remus, knowing full well what it was suggesting.

Once you got behind the doors though, you were off him in an instant, searching through your bag for a spare change of clothes for the night. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, getting ready for bed in your own separate bubbles. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak to James, it was more that you didn’t know what to say to him after today. You were afraid that you had crossed a line.

“What was that today?” James finally broke the silence, a crack in his voice as you spoke. You spin around, a fake smile creeping onto your face.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” His voice was cool, sending shivers down your spine. Your smile dropped, replaced with a frown. You could almost feel a few tears edging at your waterline, threatening to spill over if you weren’t careful.

“I’m sorry.” You started, fiddling with your fingers. “It was just- I overheard what you said last night. You said you wish I was being more, uhm, tactile.” You felt embarrassed to say the word. “I just wanted to put in a bit more effort. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

James stayed quiet as he settled into bed. You followed suit, getting it just behind him. You faced away from him though, as your cheeks were now being stained by your tears.

“Y/N?” You heard James call from behind you, but you didn’t turn around.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was just strange seeing so much affection from someone who wasn’t Lily.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight Jamesie.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

***

Thursday 24th December

Once again, you woke up in James’ arms. Once again, you weren’t sure how you got there, but you weren’t complaining either way. Once again, you moved out of his arms before he noticed.

A new occurrence this morning though was he woke up by your movement.

“Oh, good morning love.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, although you didn’t know why. You kept your eyes closed, as they were still heavy from last night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it was plagued by fluffy dreams, all lead by a familiar bespectacled boy. You shook the thought from your mind, trying to open your eyes, but you couldn’t. You could barely mutter out a greeting.

“Hmm.” You grunted in acknowledgment, burying you head in the pillow. It smelt like James. A smile crept on your face without you realising.

“Tired?”

“Hmm.” You let out another whine, this one more pitiful, as you nuzzled you head against James’ arm, wanting to feel his warmth once again. Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around you before placing a calculated kiss on top of your head.

“Stay here darling.” You didn’t have to be told twice. As James left the bed, you stayed put, falling down where James was previously sleeping, laying horizontally along James’ bed as you fell back into your slumber.

You didn’t know how long you were out for, but you didn’t wake up to the sound of the creaking door opening and the clinking off ice against a glass of water. You tentatively opened one eye, letting in as much light as you would allow, adjusting to the new found sunlight. Slowly, you opened the next eye, so you could properly see what James was doing.

In his hands, he carried a breakfast tray, adorned with fresh ciabatta bread, yogurt, and a bowl of strawberries. The clinking sound before was coming from a glass of icy cold water, sitting next to a vase of peonies. Your favourite flower. You flushed at the fact that James had remembered something so miniscule.

“Breakfast in bed for the princess.” James joked, letting you sit up filling before placing the tray on your lap.

“What does that make you then? A prince?” You continued the joke, folding back a bit of the duvet to let James hop back into the bed too. There was double of everything on the tray, so you assumed one helping was for James.

You gave him a plate of breakfast as you slowly miches on yours, your mind too preoccupied to think about breakfast. All you could think about was why you were feeling so nervous around James. Why was your heart racing? Why were your cheeks flushing? Why were your hands clamming up?

“Open wide.” You whipped you head around to see James with a goofy grin on his face, holding a strawberry in his hand. Remembering what happened yesterday, you took a bite of the berry, purposely not continuing how you did yesterday and licking his fingers.

A disappointed pout returned to his face. “No finger sucking? Aww what’s wrong?”

“Did you want me to suck your fingers, Prince James?” You poked him playfully on his side. “It would be highly inappropriate. We aren’t even married yet. What a scandal.” You spoke in an over the top British accent, mimicking stereotypical royal figures.

“Oh, don’t worry Princess Y/N, I wouldn’t mind have you in my bloodline.”

“Hm, Princess Y/N of the Potter residence.” You jokingly thought for a moment. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

As you giggled together, you heard a knock at the door, followed by a “I’m coming in.” The doorknob turned and Euphemia emerged from behind the door. “How is my happy couple going?”

You kept the smile on your face, not letting it falter and break character. A little voice in the back of my mind was angry, upset that Euphemia had interrupted the moment, but ultimately you thought that maybe it was for the best. You needed to keep the flirting for the public eyes only.

“Hey Mum.” James cheered. You looked back to him and noticed the same smile on his face, like it hadn’t fallen. Like, he hadn’t even noticed that Euphemia had called us a couple.

“It snowed again last night so we’re snowed in for the day. Do you two have any plans?” She asked, her eyes flickering from between us.

“I have a lot of homework to do so I might do that today.” You spoke quietly, a little embarrassed that you wanted to do homework. You didn’t actually want to do homework, but you felt like you need to be occupied by something, to control an inner urge that was bubbling inside of you.

“Come on!” James whined, letting his head fall down on your shoulder. You got immediately warm from his touch. “It’s the holidays! You can’t seriously be doing homework?”

“I have stuff to catch up on.”

“Like what?”

“Like, um, stuff.”

“Would you kids like to do some baking for Christmas tomorrow?” Euphemia suggested, to which James lit up like a Christmas tree, completely infatuated by the idea.

“Yes, yes, yes.” James repeated, rushing out of bed, but carefully enough to not spill the tray everywhere. You followed suit, pulling on a dressing gown and entering the kitchen with an enthusiastic James.

That’s how the rest of the day went. You and James stayed in the kitchen all day, still wearing your sleeping pajamas, fooling around and baking.

You started with making Christmas cake, but soon found out that James was rather good at baking himself. He took the reigns, busily working as you helped out, doing the chopping and measuring for him.

At one point, James’ eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration for over two minutes. You were getting restless, the perfection needed for baking boring you, so you decided to have some fun. Pinching your finger together, you gathered up a handful of flour, flinging it at an unsuspecting James. He turned around slowly, his cheek covered in white powder, before an evil grin consumed his face.

“Oh, you’re on, L/N.”

That’s how most of the baking went with James that day. Joking around, flinging ingredients at each other. By the end of it, you could hardly tell the difference between the kitchen floor and your aprons.

At the end, you had made Christmas cake, gingerbread cookies, and a loaf of bread. Happy with your haul, you went into the living room to call the rest of the members of the household to inspect the food.

“Come see what we made.” You and James called, standing underneath the archway from the kitchen and the living room. As you were about to step away, you heard a halting sound.

“Uh uh, wait up.” You turned back around to see Fleamont with a cheeky smile on his face, pointing at the two of you. You didn’t know what he was pointing at but Euphemia, Sirius, and Remus did, following Fleamont’s arm and laughing when they saw it.

Gazing upwards, you looked to see what the big fuss was about. Your face fell in an instant. Hanging above you and James was a freshly picked mistletoe plant.

You grimaced at the thought, feeling guilty. It was one of the rules you had set. No kissing on the lips. Surely Remus and Sirius knew that, but they were too busy laughing their asses off to remember.

Looking back at James, you gulped. You stared up at his cerulean blue eyes, your hand shaking beside you slightly. James’ eyes were raking your face, searching for any sign of consent. You nodded soon after realising what he was doing and you let him cup your face, bringing you closer than you’ve ever been.

“Are you okay with this?” James whispered for only you to hear. You kept leaning forward until you were only millimetres away from touching when you breathed out your last word of consent: “yes.”

Your lips met in the middle. It was soft and sweet, not wanting to push what was already fragile. James’ left hand stayed cupping your cheek, holding you face still as his right hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. It was magical, as if all your happiness you had ever felt was wrapped together and given to you right there. You had your hands resting on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat underneath you like a song from the heavens.

When you pulled away, your eyes lingered a little longer in James’, the eye contact you were holding inescapable and passionate. Your head felt heavy, your eyelids weighing you down as a wave of exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Discreetly, you yawn behind you hand, a gesture that wasn’t missed by James, who reached out for your wrist, running his thumb up and down your hand.

“Let’s go get you some sleep, hm?” An affirming sound escaped your mouth as you trailed behind James. Back in his bedroom, you collapsed on the bed, your lips still tingling from the sensual kiss just moments before.

The two of you were silent as you got ready for bed. Working harmoniously beside each other, you changed, and did your repetitive nightly routine, just to end up in the same place as always; on opposite sides of the bed, unable to make conversation. Luckily for you, James was onto it.

“I’m so sorry,” he started, but when you tried to butt in, he cut you off, continuing his rant. “I knew that was one of the rules and I broke it. I should’ve just said no and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. You didn’t deserve to have your boundaries crossed. I’m sorry for pressuring you into something you weren’t ready for.”

You stayed silent for a moment, soaking in his words before you began yourself. “James, I didn’t mind. You didn’t take advantage of me. It’s completely okay. And what’s that famous saying, rules are meant to be broken.”

Your pathetic attempt to joke was shut down as James didn’t say anything, nor move, just staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Huffing, you rolled over, trying to let slumber take you away, but you couldn’t. There was a chill in the house tonight, another snow storm heading your way. You shuddered as a draft blew through.

“You’re cold.” James finally spoke, yet it was an obvious statement, as you were still shaking under a blanket, your teeth starting to chatter.

“Come here.” You turned around, seeming as if you had misheard him, but you saw what you were afraid of. James’ arms were wide open, beckoning you to fall asleep with him wrapped around you, keeping you safe.

So you did.

***

Friday 25th December

Christmas morning was perfect. As you fluttered open your eyes, you once again found yourself situated in James’ arms, the only difference was that he was awake too, his radiant smile beaming down on you, making you feel warm and cuddly on the inside.

Breakfast was simple, as everyone was mostly preparing for Christmas lunch. You tried to help out as much as possible but Euphemia always shut you down, insisting that you had helped out enough and that you needed a break. So, you sat patiently on the couch, munching slowly on an apple, the juice running smoothly down your face.

“Good morning Lily.” James had appeared beside you, placing a soft kiss on your temple. The words falling from his mouth were more acidic than the juice dripping from your chin. Your returning smile was filled with bitterness, something James picked up on, his nose scrunching up as he surveyed your emotions.

“G’morning Jamesie.” You slurred, gritting your teeth together, detesting the name you were just called. Still unable to figure out why, James gave you a look, a look that just said “what?” It hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t know why it spurred you on so much.

Fleamont soon joined you in the living room, taking the armchair in the middle of the room, burying himself in the comfort. Politely, you nodded towards him, acknowledging his presence, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“How did you two sleep?” He asked, gesturing between the two of you, to which you both smiled.

“Just fine, thank you, any you?” You responded for the both of you, feeling James’ hand curl around you own, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Just fine, although, I was walking down the hallway during the night and I noticed something peculiar.”

Unsure of what he meant, you egged him on. “What did you notice?”

“Your bedroom door was open, son; the pesky draft must’ve opened it. There was moonlight streaming in from the window, and I noticed the two of you curled up together.” Fleamont looked directly at you. “I didn’t realise the two of you were at that stage of your relationship.

As Fleamont winked at the two of you, your mouth fell open, appalled, as James was laughing like a maniac beside you. It wasn’t until Euphemia came into the living room to break apart their banter to get together for Christmas lunch.

It was a peaceful meal of casual conversation and light jokes. You stayed quiet most of the time, actually rather enjoying listening in on the fascinating stories that Euphemia and Fleamont were telling about James when he was a child. Soon, the conversation turned towards the future, and all eyes were on you.”

“Dear, what would you like to do when you leave Hogwarts?” It should’ve been an easy question to answer but you were stumped, unsure if you should answer as Lily or as yourself. Unable to think of something Lily would say, you decided to answer as you would.

“Actually, I want to study in a muggle university. Literature, or maybe anthropology. I’ve always been interested in learning about the world and my heart has always been somewhat attached to the muggle world. It’s where I want to flourish.” Embarrassed by your little monologue, you flushed a deep red, before turning back towards your ham.

“How inspiring,” Euphemia said, clapping her hands together in delight, “and what about marriage? Have you thought about settling down?”

You almost choked on your food at the question, catching you completely off guard. All eyes were on you and James now, with Sirius and Remus trying not to disturb anyone as they laughed in the distance.

“Uhm,” you looked at James for guidance but he also seemed just as uncomfortable as you were. “I haven’t thought that far through, to be completely honest.”

“Oh, but dear,” Euphemia looked positively thrilled. “We would be absolutely delighted for you to join our family. Lily Potter, my beautiful and caring daughter-in-law.”

“Okay, how about we clean up now, yeah?” Thankfully, James had broken up the conversation, offering to clean up the plates. Eager to leave the uncomfortable situations you helped bring in the stacks of food, offering to split it up, and repackage it for later consumption. You worked efficiently, avoiding anyone with the last name Potter at all cost.

When everything seemed to be tidied up, the Potter parents insisted that everyone sit around together for the gift giving portion of Christmas. Quietly, you rushed back to the bedroom, getting out the small gifts you had brought everyone for the Christmas season while you were out the other day.

Sitting amongst everyone, it felt like everything was back to normal. No more awkward conversations about the future plagued the atmosphere, just joyous laughter and pure happiness circling the room.

Firstly, you gave small presents to Sirius and Remus, including some quills for school, and gunpowder for pranks. You gave Euphemia and Fleamont some Christmas fudge that you had found, as well as a thank you note, thanking them for letting you stay over the Christmas season. Lastly, you handed a small box to James, a lacy ribbon decorating it.

“Open it.” You spoke in an almost whisper, as James’ fingers fiddled with the ribbon. As it fell open, you heard the small gasp from James, as he took the chain out of the box.

It was a small silver bracelet, yet it was decorated by a tiny, dangling gem, the colour of the deep blue ocean, something that seemed to have enchanted the bespectacled boy.

“It’s a sapphire.” You said, running your fingers over the cold chain. “It’s supposed to represent honesty, trust, loyalty. Everything that embodies you.” You spoke with so much weight in your chest, speaking from the deepest depths of your heart. Everything you said was true.

Swooping down, James pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering a hushed “I love you” under his breath, so faint that you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to hear it.

The rest of the presents were handed out, until there was only one left underneath the Christmas tree. With a smile on his face, Fleamont reached down underneath the tree, grabbing the package and passing it to you.

It should’ve been a happy moment, a moment where you truly felt like you belonged in the Potter house. It did at first as the smile seemed to never be able to falter, until you stared down at the packaging, noticing the name ‘Lily Evans’ written in cursive. A single tear ran down your face as you realised something harsh in that very moment. It was always going to be Lily Evans, never Y/N L/N.

The feeling got worse as you carrot undid the wrapping paper, revealing a collection of polaroid photographs. They were all different shots of you and James throughout the holidays. Curled up on the couch, baking in the kitchen, out on the walls, sucking the juice off of his fingers. The last one made you laugh as you remembered the memory that had now turned fond.

“I love them. Thank you so much.”

The day was mostly mundane, just filled with more activities, like chess, or cleaning to fill in the time. It seemed like everyone was just waiting for the snow to melt, so they could all go back outside again. You knew James was just itching to play with his Quidditch set outside.

Strangely enough, you found yourself outside in the snow, wrapped up tight from the weather. The snow had stopped falling for a peaceful moment, so you thought it would be the perfect time to get some fresh air, away from the overwhelming company.

You were soon joined though, as you heard the front door open and close from behind you. You didn’t even have to guess who it was as they stood beside you, taking in a deep breath, exhaling visibling in the frosty air.

“How are you doing?” James looked over to you, his eyes laced with concern. You shrugged, smiling that he seemed to care about you. It warmed you.

“Overwhelmed, but you’ve been perfect. All thanks to you, I think they might actually believe it.” You were now completely facing James now, looking up into his deep, aquamarine eyes, watching as the tint changed when the light hit the irises at a different angle. It was mesmerising.

You weren’t the only one mesmerised though. James couldn’t stop staring at your beauty. The way your eyes sparkled in the light. The way your skin catched the light snow that was starting to fall. Your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, but it left you feeling unsatisfied. Before you could even respond, you had James by the collar of his sweater, pulling him down ever so slightly so your lips could meet with his. It was light fire and electricity, a thousand gusts of wind blowing through you, spilling into you like an endless thunderstorm. You kissed him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him, hungry, desperate, passionate.

You were in love.

***

Saturday 26th December

You had fallen asleep on the couch, slumped with James as he cocooned your sleeping body between his limbs. Unfortunately, your slumber had been awoken in the early hours of the morning by banging on the front door. Groggily, James got up, rubbing his head with his hands.

Running your fingers through your hair, you got up with him, putting on a sweater to make yourself look more presentable. James’ sweater, to be exact.

The four other residents of the house had now awoken from the persistent knocking and had joined us downstairs. It was just after sunrise so everyone was sort of dazed and out of it. With one last eye rub, James swung the door open to reveal the person standing there.

Lily Evans, with her hair like a roaring fire, cheeks naturally rosy, and eyes glinting like a morning sunrise, she stood there, clutching her hands nervously. As soon as she saw James though, she flung her arms around his neck, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A string of apologies came out of her mouth as tears started running down her cheeks, dark mascara staining her porcelain skin. A confused look was shot my way as Euphemia just stared between the two of us, unsure of what to do.

“Hello darling.” Euphemia’s motherly voice was out to play. ”If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“Oh sorry for not introducing myself.” Lily removed herself from James’ figuring, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, as she stuck her hand out to be shaken. “I’m Lily Evans, nice to meet you.”

Then, Lily noticed your looming form sending a curious look your way. It wasn’t the only look of confusion. Euphemia and Fleamont were almost unreadable as you flicked between the two of them.

It was time to come clean.

“This is Lily Evans, my ex girlfriend.” James had the same idea as you, introducing the red headed girl to his parents finally.

“And this is Y/N L/N, my close friend.”

Friend.

That’s all you were. That’s all you would ever be, compared to Lily.

It took a bit of explaining and sitting Fleamont and Euphemia down to fully explain the plan. You started off with the breakup and then talked about the devilish plan, saying that all you wanted to do was keep Christmas light and cheery. All you got were uncomfortable looks from James’ parents.

When everything was laid out on the table, Fleamont got up and left, obviously disappointed in the choices you and his son had made. Euphemia looked as though she had just swallowed a bee, lips pursed as she contemplated the next move.

“Well, Y/N,” the name fell bitterly for her lips; it sounded so foreign, so unnatural. “You are happy to stay with us until tomorrow. It was nice to finally meet you.”

That was the full extent of the conversation. For the rest of the day, it seemed as though Fleamont and Euphemia were keeping James and you away from each other, always asking one or the other to help with chores, or to do a mundane activity with them.

It wasn’t until night time dawned on the residence. The atmosphere had unfortunately changed after Lily’s short and unexpected visit. Her exit was speedy after her unprompted entrance, an uneasy ripple of tension in the house.

When it was time to sleep, Euphemia had shown you to a spare room, taking initiative to set you up somewhere separate, now knowing that you weren’t actually dating James. It was cold though, empty and alone, and as you tried to sleep, your hands kept trailing to James’ side of the bed, searching for him.

You took it upon yourself to take matters into your own hands. Creeping through the house, you found yourself outside of James’ bedroom door. Quietly, you knocked, waiting a few seconds before entering. James was lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the open curtain which was letting in trickles of moonlight. When you entered, he looked back at you, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“Can I…?” Your voice trailed off as you couldn’t bare to finish your sentence in embarrassment, but James seemed to know what you were alluding to, pulling back the covers almost immediately.

“Of course.”

***

Sunday 27th December

You woke in early hours of the morning. It was intentional, not wanting to be found in James’ bed again. It would be scandalous. You laid back in your new bed, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping you could go back asleep, but sleep couldn’t find you.

Before breakfast had started, you had packed you bags, ready to catch the train at ten o’clock. An early breakfast run was needed as you munched some Christmas leftovers, opposite sides of the table from James. You still hadn’t talked about what had happened. Even last night, you had only just cuddled until you both had fallen asleep. Your feelings till needed to be addressed.

Hurriedly, the four Hogwarts students were aparated back to King’s Cross Station by Euphemia and Fleamont, both with sorrowful looks on their faces. They were hugging their son goodbye, then moving onto Sirius and Remus, hugging them like they were also their children. You shifted awkwardly in the group.

“And we can’t forget you, now can we, Y/N?” It was still strange hearing your own name come from their lips, but you welcomed it, slightly happy to be the only receptor of the love now. As you were pulled into a jug by Euphemia, you could hear the last words she spoke to you. “Thank you for looking after my son. I’d be happy to have you as my daughter-in-law.”

Last minute goodbyes were said as you all bundled up onto the train, finding a carriage right in front of where Euphemia and Fleamont were standing. You waved cheerfully at them as the train pulled out of the station, a chapter of your life closing.

You hadn’t noticed Remus and Sirius had stepped out of the carriage, giving you and James some much needed privacy. There wasn’t much that needed to be said though. Everything that needed to be communicated had already been done through awkward glances and small looks.

“Hey.” His voice was almost silent.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“What are we?”

“Whatever you want to be.” You eventually said. James hummed in agreement, resting his head in his hand.

“Onwards?”

You smiled.

“Onwards.”

[de-sire-blog]

This post is titled: I have the best readers in the world!

I’m sure I’m not alone in this, but when life gets tough, I go back and re-read the comments you lovely people have left on my works. And sometimes I cry because it’s so nice, and heartwarming, and sometimes painful when you share your own struggles with me. But mostly I just feel very, very loved and appreciated. And I try my very hardest to answer every single comment I get and talk to you, but sometimes I don’t manage to do it. So I wanted to give back a little and share with you my most favorite comments I received over the time I’ve been posting. 

It’s part 1, obviously, and only from The Lab (my most popular fic as of now), so there is more to come. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do! There are many more that I have saved but they are quite spoiler-y and I don’t want to post them here just in (the very unlikely) case someone would get upset.

This is getting really long and sappy so I’ll hide the rest to not spam your feed. It’s just too many feelings, feel free to skip that. 

There are so many great comments I got! And I appreciate every single one - the funny ones, the short ‘loved this’ notes, the key-smashes. I love the long ones, the ones where you cite my story back to me and comment on the little details, the ones where you ask me questions that sometimes aren’t related to the chapter at all, the ones where you tell me how you missed bus stops or classes or work hours because you had to read the update. I love it when you tell me that you’re re-reading my stories, or that you feel for the characters as if they were alive, or that you like my writing style and worldbuilding, or that my smut is making you feel some sort of way :) I love it when people comment that they don’t speak English well (which they always do, like, babe, come on, you’re good) but still wanted to tell me how much they liked my work, or when you say that you can’t find the right words to express how much I managed to make you feel, or that you usually never comment or interact with stories but mine is an exception.

I have readers that tell me that my stories are their favorite. Not only that they liked them. No. That The Lab is their #1 fic. That this is their holy grail wolfstar story. That you re-read it multiple times. That I (for some reason I will never understand) am one of their favorite authors on AO3. I don’t believe you, of course, but I am so touched by the sentiment. 

I have readers that I know by name, and every time they pop up in my email notifications I just smile like mad before I’ve even read the comment because I know it’s going to make me melt (you know who you are, babes, you’re all here on Tumblr with me for some reason). And some of you send me dms and I always be here to chat with you if you want. And some just like or reblog every stupid thing I post, whether it’s about how Remus from BA smells (lol) or actual worthwhile bonus content. Some don’t do anything and just follow, and I see you, okay :) I love every single one of you.

I have readers that read every damn thing I post on AO3. Like, you’re not only my ‘frequent flyers’, you are literally my support system. For fuck’s sake, a good number of you commented on Berlin Angel’s first chapter only minutes after I posted, telling me how excited you were to see me again so soon and that you haven’t even read the chapter yet and you already know it’s going to be good. Do you have any idea how much this means to me?

I just wanted to tell you that when I started posting The Lab, I never anticipated the overwhelmingly positive response I got. I thought that maybe some people will read it, and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get some kudos. But, oh boy, you swept me off my feet! This story is literally my baby, I just know that I will never write anything better than that, and I appreciate it so so much that you liked it and chose to stick around.

And, you know, most of the people that follow me and read everything I post aren’t even commenting at all. And this post is for you as well. I don’t see you, but I know you’re there, and you are also valid and important to me.

You are the reason I keep writing, and posting, and fantasizing. My stories are my escape from all the shit that is going on in my real life. You are the reason I have that escape.

Thank you.

[steelycunt]

what’s your relationship with sirius’ and remus’ characters?

like, obviously you like them, you write about their love story, but I just want further description on how you interact with their characters (including muggle AUs, like how their characters change depending on what you are writing or if their always have the same basic traits in your mind) (and if you have a bone to pick with certain aspects of their characters but love them anyway)

also, your relationship with /their/ relationship. like, their dynamic

sorry for all the questions but I just find your interpretations of them super interesting and want to know more :)

hi babs!! no worries i love talking about these guys <3

i feel like i have to disclaim every time i talk about this sort of thing, but--when referring to these guys, i'd never try to claim i'm writing a canonically correct remus or sirius. i think at this point i have such a firm yet likely inaccurate idea of the two of them in my head, and have strayed so far from the information we get in the books, that my opinions on who they are probably dont hold up against the books...at all. i know this isnt quite what you asked, but i had to mention it aha.

i spend way more time in sirius' head than remus', and i think some of his most defining traits that i refer back to again and again are things like his volatility, his temper/capacity for cruelty even against someone he loves or cares about, but also his loyalty and rather all-consuming devotion to those people. if you take those away, i'm not really sure what you're left with? he often ends up saying the wrong thing because there are so many different emotions that translate into anger or frustration with him. the intensity of that can make him snappy, and again--cruel, but it also makes him wonderful and fiercely loving. i think, maybe because i write his pov more, that he's a lot more consistent than my remus (apart from small details that don't really reflect on his character so much as the situation/plot of the fic).

remus is more cautious, more reserved and more fatally self-sacrificing, but he's also often more mature and kind (which i'd say is different from sirius' loyalty). he's also always got a very dry sense of humour and id say that despite it all, he's often more optimistic? though maybe he just has to be. ive only written one muggle or otherwise au, ever, but i did find i ended up writing a remus who was a bit more outgoing and a bit flirtier when he didn't have the massive barrier of his lycanthropy holding him back during interactions. now im in his head for the prank fic, he's got a temper just like sirius does, but he also has a rather frustrating tendency to refuse to confront that which obviously needs to be confronted--sirius is currently doing a lot of the heavy lifting, although considering what he's done, perhaps that's fair enough. i still just think he's lovely, though. remus is lovely. i want to put sirius in a blender.

their relationship is probably the most delicate, changeable factor from fic to fic--its obviously shaped by the different plots and circumstances etc, but also from whichever pov ur writing. i do reckon i write as if i think sirius loves remus more, but i dont necessarily believe that--i just write him more, and i prefer his pov. ive said before im boring when it comes to those two, but its true: they're just made for each other, they fix each other and they make each other worse, they've got something so fucking insane going on that they've got to stay together because honestly neither of them deserve anyone else. like two people quarantining with the same infectious disease that no one else should be exposed to. locking the car doors and driving off a cliff. i can't imagine writing a sirius who isn't in love with remus. they can be terribly cruel to each other because they know parts of the other that nobody else does (maybe with the exception of james, which is why wolfstarbucks works imo), and there's almost always some point of pressure acting upon their dynamic, whether that's a lack of time, or the war, or things left unsaid or a specific incident (see: the prank). and at the centre of that they are completely, obsessively, irreparably in love with each other, always. i want to study them under a microscope :-)

[masterthespianduchovny]

The Poor Development of the Marauder's Era

I've recently been listening to Binge Mode and, even now, I honestly believe the Marauder's era is some of Rowling’s worst writing of the series. When I say Marauder's Era, I'm simply referring to characters and events pre Harry.

The Marauder's era isn't poorly developed because I didn't like what happened. It's poorly developed because of how Rowling handled the characters, the events she put them in, and the reaction to said events.

As a kid, I respected Lily and thought she could do no wrong. As an adult, I find her decisions questionable. For transparency purposes, I read these books in real time and was a similar age as the characters. So, I don't want to hear anything about me being "unfair." Of all of the Mauraders era kids back then, I was the most generous to Lily. It's only when I reflected more about her role in the series that I realized how lackluster she is as a character and as a friend.

Rowling relies on Lily being seen as the moral compass to signify who and what is right or wrong during this era. The problem with this is that Rowling undermines Lily in the process. Minus being flat out called Mudblood by Snape, she has no proof that Snape has done anything her friends accused him of doing, but she unequivocally views it as the truth. Despite Lily listening to Snape, it's not really in good faith because she already has her mind made up about Snape's guilt.

Now, this is important to note because since Lily hasn't seen any of Snape's alleged bad behavior for herself, why would she definitively accuse him of these things? Lily claims she was in denial about this when she ended their friendship, but it's quite obvious she does believe Snape is guilty.

What makes Lily's beliefs and choosing to side with others over Snape is that none of the Marauders have ever mentioned ONE instant of Snape doing or saying some fucked up shit. As a reminder: THEY HATED HIM. They never mentioned anything about him bullying others, calling muggles mud blood, or any other troubling behavior. It was merely because he existed. They couldn't even tie him to being a Death Eater.

Also, let's consider the fact that kids like Snape have rumors made up about them all of the time. ALL OF THE TIME. Not even Snape's own bullies could attest to Snape doing the things Lily's friends claimed Snape did, yet Lily believed their words?

And, maybe I'm being nitpicky, but the fact that Lily says "my friends" in reference to defending Snape has always rubbed me the wrong way. Snape IS her friend too. Her best friend, in fact. Why wouldn't she have said, "my OTHER friends." My Gryffindor mates or whatever? IMO, that implies that Snape is just some weirdo she talks to and not the person she's known the longest.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS:

Have Lily overhear Snape calling one of his peers Mudblood. Have the Marauders be incensed that Snape called someone a mud blood. Have them call out Lily when she tries to intervene on them confronting (confronting NOT bullying) Snape. Hell, even have Snape fucking bully someone.

Because as far as canon goes, Snape was a bystander as death eater wannabes bullied people and presumably did nothing about it. We don't see any of his alleged wrongdoings and the people who hate him can't even recall that this happened.

There shouldn't be an ambiguity or readers relying on the word and opinion of Lily to guide their opinion.

Some may say, "she's only a kid." To this I say, "You're right." Lily was a teen and teens don't always know how to handle complex situations, I will give her the benefit of the doubt. However, this means we shouldn't hold her as the moral standard.

Lily essentially says that the difference between the Marauder's bullying people and the death eater wannabes doing it is dark magic. I'm sorry, but that's weak sauce. Dark magic is such a vague and broad thing depending on what you're talking about, so nah...Also, is there something not dark about James choking Snape with soap? I mean, that could've traumatized Snape to the extent of him being triggered by soap. Isn't that dark?

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Jut have Lily acknowledge that behaviors by the Marauders and death eater wannabes are both bad, but for different reasons. Problem solved. She can even emphasize that she takes so much issue with Dark Magic due to why it's being used and what it ties into.

We hear how great Lily is and that everyone loves her, yet Harry meets literally NOT ONE FRIEND of Lily's. He meets James' friends and a former teacher of hers. We don't see Lily hanging out with anyone else. We hear examples of Lily feeling sad for people, but no references to her actually helping people or supporting others somehow.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THAT.

Maybe instead of Lily talking about the bad thing Avery and Mulciber did, she could've intervened, even if it was too late, and "saved" Mary. Hell, we could've had Lily hex James rather than just threatening it. I'm sorry, after literally reading the many ways the Golden Trio are there for each other even before big shit started to happen, Lily threatening to hex someone who is actively bullying her friend doesn't cut it.

And give her her own friends for Harry to meet.

Lily is said to be smart and empathic, but how she deals with Snape and his issues don't exactly support this.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED IT.

Have Lily genuinely listen to Snape's grievances about the night he was saved. Don't have her be so dismissive about the Lupin thing. Maybe have Snape set up by the Marauders and the big reveal is a flop.

I know Rowling wanted to tackle people having shady pasts and how they can change, but 1. Either she needed to commit to it being a rivalry or 2. She needed to appropriately deal with the bullshit the Marauder's did. Snape is justifiably angry and distrusting of the Marauders due to one almost killing him as a joke and the other publicly humiliating him. This doesn't even account for YEARS of bullying, which remus admitted happened.

We cannot say that bullying is wrong, and then excuse the bullies because they were on the right side of a war.

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

She should've had Remus flat out acknowledge they were wrong for what they did and that there was no excusing it. Then, have Sirius and Remus privately talk about this where Sirius admits it too. OR, despite loving them and his dad, Harry realizes how flawed they were and that their reasoning is simply to protect their dad not necessarily because James grew up. OR Rowling could've not written James and Sirius behaving as psychopaths AS WELL AS show instances of Snape starting shit with them.

SHOW US Snape deliberately starting shit with the Marauders and James trying to apologize. Show us James' growth outside of that. Don't tell us that James is secretly hexing Snape behind Lily's back because it has her looking like a dumb ass.

Also, all of this James stuff is important because Lily ending up with James is such a bad fucking look. IMO, it makes her disgust at his behavior seem performative. It says that she didn't really care about him bullying others, but rather, the perception of her being with someone who bullied others. And, no, having Lily smile as Snape was actively being bullied, and then poverty shaming him isn't a good look.

"BUT, BUT SNAPE CALLED HER A RACIST SLUR!!!"

It doesn't matter how much you want to give your friend the benefit of the doubt, if you believe he's calling others racist slurs, you need to confront it. And, if you believe it to be true, you need to end it. You don't wait until he calls you the slur to say, "hey, maybe he really is this racist person people claim he is."

HOW ROWLING COULD'VE FIXED THIS.

After James saved Snape's life, this is where he could've matured and his big head lessened. He still hexes others, but leaves Snape alone because he realized that they went to far with him even before Sirius' "prank." Instead of James being the antagonizer, it should've been Sirius. Once again, James breaks this up and he and Sirius gets into a small argument. Snape is let down as Lily runs up and Snape says his mud blood remark.

Snape then tries to hex Sirius and James steps in once Snape refuses to stop. It gets out of hand and Snape accidentally harms Lily.

I won't lie, I'm a HUGE Snape fan. However, because of how Rowling handled this era, there are many ambiguous things, situations that don't make any sense, not enough development of characters, etc which undermines the story she tried to tell.

Yes, I do love the series, except I don't like any of the Marauders or Lily. I don't hate Lily, but she grates. Remus really was a coward and irresponsible as hell. Sirius was childish as fuck and, no, him being in prison doesn't excuse or justify all of his behavior. James saved his peer's life, and then publicly humiliated and sexually assaulted him. He didn't stop bullying, he just stopped how he did it.

This doesn't mean I believe that Snape was faultless, but I believe this era was so poorly told that by default, I believe and sympathize with Snape.

Although I believe Rowling wanted readers to do this, I don't think she planned for some readers such as myself to hold the positions we do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Snape as is, but I do believe Rowling didn't intend for me to hold the views I do about Lily and the Marauders.

I don't understand her laziness during this era, especially since it's so key in Snape, Lily, and James' stories.

Lastly, she could've developed James and Lily better.

I know she only has so much time, space, pages blah blah blah. However, the best writers find a way to make it work with what they have.

[fruitcoops]

hi! i was wondering if you could do couples play truth or drink with coops and o’knutzy? i wouldn’t mind it being spicy :))

This is VERY spicy, so please be aware of that before you go in. Coops and O’Knutzy belong to @lumosinlove!

TW for many mentions of sex and alcohol

Sirius was warm, a little tipsy, and perfectly content. The carpet was soft under his palms and Remus was cuddled happily against his side from their spot on the floor; across from him, Logan was sitting in Leo’s lap with his legs over Finn’s, whose Spotify ‘gaylist’ played from the speakers. Their cheeks were all a little pink from alcohol and Sirius was glad they were staying the night instead of driving home.

“Okay, okay, new game,” Leo laughed as they gathered the last of the Scrabble pieces. The five of them had made it through a whole fifteen minutes before Remus and Finn began arguing about symbolism in Great Expectations, while Sirius sat on the sidelines deeply regretting his choice to build ‘mansion’ for a triple-word score. Twenty points really wasn’t worth the near-fistfight.

“It’s time,” Logan singsonged as he took the truth or drink cards off the coffee table, which had been pushed aside to make room for their game board. “The rules for this are a little different. Do you have alcohol?”

Sirius scoffed. “Of course we have alcohol, we’re adults.”

“Other than wine.”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and walked back into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of cheap whiskey he had been given on his birthday and set it in the middle of their circle, along with five glasses. “There.”

“Before we start, let’s make an agreement that whatever we say stays in this room, alright?” Finn held his hand out, palm down, and they stacked theirs on top. “No cameras, no holding back.”

“Deal. Who goes first?”

“Alright, so with the group game, there’s one judge each round,” Logan explained as he took a few cards out and put them face down. “Every card has two questions and the judge decides who asks who. They give the card to the person with the best answer, and whoever has the most cards at the end wins. Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

Finn drew a card. “Okay, I want Remus to ask Leo the first one, and Leo asks Remus the second one.”

“Have you ever walked in on your parents?” Remus asked.

Leo groaned. “Yeah.”

“Not Eloise and Wyatt!”

“Yes, Eloise and Wyatt. Scarred me for life, that’s for sure.” Leo shuddered and took the card, immediately grinning. “This is a good one. What’s your most embarrassing sex moment?”

“I really want to drink.”

“You can’t chicken out this early!”

“Ugh, fine.” Remus ran a hand down his face, which was faintly red. “Um, it was after my first game with the Lions and I tried to ride and…” He sighed. “My legs were too tired to actually sit up.”

“No,” Finn gasped, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “You couldn’t even get up?”

“I could get up, I just couldn’t move.” Remus tucked his knees under himself. “Like, I got to here and it was fine, but there was nothing left.”

Sirius snickered. “Almost broke my sternum trying, though.”

All three cubs burst out laughing. “This one goes to Loops,” Finn managed after a moment, wiping a tear from his eye as he handed the card over. “Oh, shit, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Leo, you’re up.”

“Okay…I want Cap to ask Logan the first one, and vice versa.”

Any higher power, give me strength. “What’s your favorite position, Tremzy?”

Logan grinned cheekily. “Middle.”

“Didn’t need to know that.”

“Too bad. When was the last time you had sex?”

“It would have been three and a half hours ago if your boyfriend didn’t insist on being early to everything.”

“I knew it!” Finn practically shouted. “I told you two they were fucking.”

“Did you bet on that?” Remus asked, incredulous. “Oh my god!”

“It was less of a bet and more of an assumption,” Leo corrected. “Cap, answer the question.”

“Last night.”

“That’s a lame-ass answer and I’m giving the card to Lo.”

“Bias,” he coughed, earning himself three different smacks to the shoulders. “Rude.”

“My turn!” Logan reached over for a new card. “Loops, ask Finn the first one, and Finn, ask Loops the second.”

Remus cleared his throat, took a second to laugh, and then read. “Name the person here you think I should hook up with.”

Finn snorted. “Aside from your actual fiancé?” They both turned to Logan, who shrugged. “Alright, which one of my boyfriends am I willing to hand over for a night? I feel like you’d object to sleeping with Lo because he’s basically Sirius’ brother. You and Leo are close already, which means it wouldn’t be all that awkward. Honestly, when it comes down it, I’d tap that.”

“Oh, you think you’re doing the tapping?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Finn glanced at Sirius, who grinned. “That’s cute. My turn, Harzy, hand it over.”

Finn obliged, shocked into silence while Leo and Logan cackled next to him. “Are you really surprised?” Sirius asked.

“I mean, a little.”

“Shush, you two. Finn, have you ever done anything sexual on camera?”

“Does Snapchat count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Multiple times.”

The five of them looked to Logan, who shook his head. “I’m going to have to give it to Loops, who is apparently a top, much to everyone’s surprise. Sorry, mon rouge.”

“To clarify, I’m a switch,” Remus said as he added the card to his pile. “Let’s not get too hasty here.”

Sirius took a card off the stack and scanned the two questions. “Logan, ask Leo the first one, and vice versa.”

“Oh, this should be interesting. Knutty, who here do you most want to hook up with?”

“Just one?” Leo looked over to Sirius who nodded. “Fuck, I don’t know. I can’t choose!”

“Are you going to drink?” Sirius asked. “That means you lose the card by default.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to choose between my boyfriends.” He downed the shot and reached for the card. “Have you ever had an awkward sex dream? Was anyone here involved?”

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. “Yes, I have had so many awkward sex dreams and several of them involved people in this room.”

“Aw, Tremzy, I’m flattered,” Remus teased, taking a sip of his water as Logan stretched a leg out to kick him in the thigh. “Do I get to be the judge now, seeing as you won by default?”

“Get me some cards, Loops!” Finn said.

“Sirius, ask Finn question one and Finn, ask him question two.” Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek as he handed him the card.

“Harzy, what’s the sexy nickname they’ll give you in the old folks’ home? You have no idea how bad I want to know this.”

Finn winked. “Big Red.”

“That is the shittiest nickname ever. Do better.”

“Ugh, fine. Hmmm…” He hummed along to the playlist while he thought, and Sirius couldn’t help but bop a bit as well. Sue him, Gloria Gaynor was catchy. “My nickname in the nursing home is going to be Harzy because that’s already sexy. Hand it over, Cap. What’s a sexual thing you tried, but just couldn’t get into?”

“Having sex with women.” The entire group burst out laughing at that, and it took a solid minute for everyone to calm down enough to continue. “It’s true! They were all very nice and lovely, but it wasn’t quite right. Alright, Re, who won?”

“You did,” Remus laughed. “By a landslide, holy fuck. Batter up, Harz.”

“Ha! Everyone has to answer this one except me. What’s the sex skill you’re most proud of?”

“Do we just go around the circle?” Leo asked. Finn nodded and he tilted his head. “Hmm. I’m really flexible.”

“Damn right you are,” Logan grinned. “I’m most proud of my riding ability.”

Sirius did not miss the flush that came to both Finn and Leo’s faces at that. “Easy, boys. I think I’m a really good kisser.”

“That’s not a sex skill!” Finn protested. “Everyone can kiss.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Not like he can, trust me. Um, I give top-notch blowjobs.”

Finn looked between the four of them, deep in thought. “I hate having to choose between my boyfriends.”

“You know there are two other people here, right?” Sirius asked drily.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to go home with you tomorrow and neither of you are in direct control of whether or not I get laid. I think I have to go with Logan on this one. Peanut, I am grateful for your flexibility every single day, but it’s not a specifically sexual talent.”

“We’ll see if you get to experience it ever again,” Leo scoffed, flicking him on the ribs playfully. “My turn. Logan, ask Finn the first one.”

“Okay, baby, what did you get in major trouble for as a kid?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Finn absentmindedly ran his hand through Logan’s hair. “There was one time when I told Alex I was going for a bike ride, but he didn’t tell my parents and they thought I’d been kidnapped. Got grounded for a month after that.”

“Even though you told your brother?”

“Mhmm. Oh, I hate the way this is worded. Tell us about a time a fluid got on you during sexy times.”

Logan snorted. “Do you remember the day we found out I was allergic to dust?”

Both Leo and Finn started laughing, but Sirius shared a bewildered look with Remus, who shrugged. “Spill it, Tremz, we weren’t there.”

“D’accord, we had forgotten to clean the apartment after a roadie, so it was pretty dusty. I went down on Leo and then pulled off to sneeze right as he came, and it got in my eye.”

Sirius winced at the thought and Remus hissed in sympathy. “Yikes.”

“After we finished rinsing my eye out, we dusted the whole place and now we vacuum at least once a week.”

“Logan is the winner for this round because I still feel bad about that,” Leo said as he handed the card over. “I have never felt so guilty for coming. Lo, you’re the judge now.”

“Since the questions stayed within the triad last round, I’m going to be nice and give you two a chance to catch up,” he teased. “Cap, read Loops the first one.”

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

“I don’t think a lot of people can say they’ve fucked at the rink.”

“Yeah, um, how often did that happen?” Leo interrupted, making a time out motion. “Because I thought it was maybe twice and I’m a little worried about sitting on that table now.”

Sirius winked. “Pre-game rituals, Knutty. At least once a week.”

“The Habs PT room was also interesting,” Remus mused. “They had a very heavy door, which was nice. Okay, gimme. What was your best orgasm?”

“When I wore your jersey,” Sirius answered without hesitating. “No contest. Logan, who won?”

He blinked twice before responding. “Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you got off in the Habs PT room. I think this one goes to Loops.”

Sirius sighed and picked a new card. “These are incredibly similar. Um, Re and Leo.”

Remus took the card and snuggled up against his side as he read. “Leo, how much money would a voyeuristic billionaire have to pay us to have sex in his velvet blimp? That is so specific, what the hell?”

“There are two parts to my answer,” Leo said. “Number one: it would take very little actual money to get me to have sex with you if I wasn’t head over heels in love and you weren’t engaged. Number two: a hundred million dollars.”

“What?”

“He’s a billionaire! That’s nothing to him! Think of another time when you’d be allowed to fuck in a velvet blimp and get paid obscene amounts of money, Loops. I’ll wait.”

“Good point.”

“My turn. What would we do on our first date?”

“Hmm. I’m getting, like, coffee shop and bookstore vibes.” Remus paused. “Wait, we literally did that last weekend.”

“By that metric, we’re basically already dating,” Leo laughed. “Cap, who won?”

“Sorry, honey, but Leo put a lot of thought into his answer.” Sirius slid the card across the floor and Leo kissed it in victory.

Remus shook his head and drew a card. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Finn, ask my traitor fiancé the first one and vice versa.”

“I’m getting punished for being fair?”

“We’re in this to win, baby.”

“Ask away, Harz.”

“How are we wrong for each other romantically? Ooo, can I answer this after you?”

“Sure. Where do I start?” Sirius laughed. “First we have the weird power imbalance if we’re still on the same team, then there’s the part where I’m super introverted and you’re painfully social, and finally you’re poly and I’m not.”

“I was going to say you’re not as kinky as me.”

Remus, who had been taking a drink of water, choked and nearly did a spit take. “Double check that before you commit,” he coughed.

Finn’s eyes widened. “Really? Again? I thought you guys were the wholesome vanilla couple!”

“Oh, honey, no,” Leo said, patting him on the arm. “Kasey made the same mistake.”

Sirius took the card from him. “This is easy. Have you ever had a threesome?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Sirius wins that one,” Remus said. At Finn’s betrayed look, he shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re literally the judge.”

“You are now, actually. The round ended.”

Finn rolled his eyes and took a card. “Loops and Logan, give it a go.”

“Loops, if we were on a desert island together, would we become lovers?” Logan batted his eyelashes and Remus laughed.

“Is anyone else there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sure, why not. You’re cute.” He paused and made a face. “Now that I think about it, that would be a lot like fucking Regulus and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Sirius turned to look at him. “I hope you feel oh god, please no about that.”

“It’s a desert island!”

“Maps exist! We’ll find you!”

“Hand over the card before this gets ugly, Tremz.” Remus made a low oof noise as Sirius dragged him into his lap and placed a loud kiss to the side of his neck. “Thank you, baby. Describe the first time you had sex, including every cringey detail.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “I was a junior in high school and it happened in her parents’ basement. The school gave out free condoms—”

“You had sex with a school condom?” Remus grimaced. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I had been crushing on her for a while, but she panicked as soon as her shirt came off and told me she was a lesbian, and that I looked exactly like the girl she was in love with.”

“No.”

“Yeah. It was so awkward. I gave her a hug and then we went and got ice cream.”

The room was quiet for a moment. “Damn,” Leo said with a low whistle at last as Remus passed the card to Logan. “Good for her, I guess?”

“I mean, she was dating the girl by the end of the year. Gay rights?”

“Gay rights,” the rest of them said in unison, breaking down into laughter as Leo took the last card.

“Bummer, everyone gets to answer this except me. Expose one of your kinks or take a shot, and you can’t repeat one that’s already been said. Nobody wins this card at the end of the round.”

“I am not opposed to a little bit of manhandling,” Logan said with a sly look at Leo.

Sirius eyed the shot glass in the middle of the circle, then decided against it. There was no way he would give up a chance to beat the cubs at this game. “Getting tied up.”

Remus gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d take a shot.”

“Not this late in the game. Your turn.”

“Hmmm.” Remus bit his lip. “Praise kink.”

“Aw, man, that was mine!” Finn protested. Remus gave him a high five. “I guess I have to go with voyeurism, then. Whew, wasn’t expecting to say that out loud tonight.”

“Is that it? That was the last one?” Strangely, Sirius was a little disappointed. Despite the insanely invasive sex questions, it was fun to trade stories with the cubs.

“Yep. Count your cards, everyone.”

“I don’t have any.” Finn pouted.

Leo held up his single card. “Thank God for the velvet blimp.”

Sirius had two, and Remus shuffled his three. Across the circle, Logan was sitting pretty on five cards. “I win,” he said with a smug smile.

“Way to go, Tremzy.” Sirius reached over for a fist bump, doing his best not to jostle Remus. “I mean, it must have been nice having both your boyfriends here to give you cards.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan tossed his cards at Sirius, who grabbed a pillow off the sofa behind them and whacked him on the side of the head with it. “Oh, you’re going down.”

In the ensuing chaos, the truth or drink box and Logan’s winning cards were forgotten. None of them really cared, though; they had a pillow fight to win.

[eliemo]

The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little different. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense. Right? 

Notes: So this is a lot longer and sadder than I planned on but i tend to get carried away. All main 6 sides are sympathetic here. 

TWs: Talk of physical violence, implied abuse (past) Sympathetic/morally gray Remus and Janus but Unsympathetic unnamed characters 

Part Two: Getting There

Virgil paused outside the closed door, holding his breath and listening, ensuring everything was silent for what had to be the hundredth time. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to even make it down the hall. 

But everything was quiet. Logan was with Thomas working on the schedule for the week and should be occupied for a while. It was fine. Virgil could slip in and out and no one would ever know. 

He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck like this. They’d been so...so ridiculously nice to him since he’d tried to duck out, and it had been everything he’d wanted for longer than he knew how to say. 

They were welcoming, understanding, and patient. And most of the time, he was able to convince himself it was genuine. That they were all trying. 

And yeah, he knew it wouldn’t always be this good. He was still getting used to all of this, to being a part of things, so they were cutting him some slack. Letting him adjust. Giving him time to get comfortable. 

Honestly, at times it was a bit painfully obvious how hard they were trying, especially considering how far from perfect he’d been despite his best efforts. 

They’d let far too many things go in favor of getting Virgil to relax. Things that never would slide if he’d been around longer. 

 He’d put a clean glass in the wrong cabinet after his first dinner with the light sides, and Patton had only smiled, quickly corrected him, and moved on. 

He’d accidentally spilled his drink on the table, and Roman had just shut down his string of prepared apologies with an almost odd smile before actually offering to clean it up himself. 

(Virgil had, of course, shut the offer down. He knew what they were doing, pretending his mistakes could be overlooked, but it didn’t mean he was useless. He was still trying to be good)

Virgil had even bumped right into Logan the other day, moving too fast through the darkened hallway in his haste to get to his room, causing the logical side to stumble and drop some papers he’d been holding. Virgil hadn’t even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Logan had gracefully picked up the papers, gently told Virgil to slow down, and continued on his way. 

It was...really kind of sweet, once he realized what they were doing. They knew he was wary, knew he wanted this so badly. So they were giving him extra chances, careful to be gentle as he settled in, not wanting him to duck out again. 

But now, weeks later, things had been changing. Not in a bad way, of course. Far from it. Things were just...more comfortable. More familiar. He was actually starting to feel like a part of their family, like maybe he could actually belong, and the others seemed to actually agree, gradually relaxing in his presence. 

Of course, it also meant all those extra chances wouldn’t be handed out freely anymore. He couldn’t expect to get away with things so easily now that he was settled in. 

Which was why he really shouldn’t be sneaking into Logan’s room. 

He was just...he needed something to do. His anxiety had been through the roof since he’d woken up, making him antsy and restless, and with the others busy all day he hadn’t had an outlet since breakfast. 

He’d noticed Logan had been lost in a book for the past few days, rambling on about it a bit once he was finished that morning, and while Virgil couldn’t exactly remember any details, something about the title and general idea had piqued his interest. Or maybe he was just desperate at this point. 

It had been a while since he’d been able to get into a good book, but it usually did help him calm down. 

And of course he could just ask Logan but...he could all too easily picture the logical side mocking the request or turning him down without question, and while Virgil knew it was unrealistic, he couldn’t muster up the courage. 

But it was fine. He knew what the cover looked like, he’d find the book, read it alone in his room, and return it when he got the chance. 

Easy. 

Except...well, that thought went right out the window as soon as he actually stepped inside. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming with how much Logan valued literature. 

He just hadn’t expected Logan’s bookshelf to be so big. 

Jesus, how many books could a guy even read? Logan barely even had any free time as it was. His library took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen so many books in his entire life. It was like something out of the fantasy stories Logan liked to deny enjoying. 

Virgil knew he should turn back. He was still trespassing, and there was no way he’d find the specific book he was looking for in the limited time he had. 

But...maybe the specific book didn’t even matter. He could find something to read, maybe even a few, just to keep him occupied until Logan was distracted in a few days and he could return them. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, waiting a moment like Logan would pop up at any moment, and carefully approached the shelf.

They were all clearly meticulously organized, first by genre, then author in alphabetical order, and Virgil wondered how long it had taken Logan to do. 

He scanned the genres: fiction, nonfiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, textbooks, articles…

There was a brief moment of panic as he ran his finger along some of the book’s spines, frantically wondering if he would even be able to put it back in the right place, and what Logan would do if he found out Virgil had stolen-- 

“Greetings, Virgil.” 

Virgil jumped so hard his shoulder slammed into the edge of the shelf, fear and realization hitting full force as two books toppled over and fell to the ground, leaving behind silence louder than a gunshot. 

Virgil was frozen like a deer in headlights, gaze locked on Logan who was giving the fallen books a quizzical look. 

“Apologies for startling you,” he said, which was not how Virgil was expecting this to start, but it was almost worse than the anger he knew was coming. “I hadn’t expected you to be in here.” 

Virgil tried not to flinch, legs feeling like jello, panicked mind running through endless possibilities of how this was going to go. He’d seen Logan angry, of course, heard him yell, seen him lose himself to frustrated rants. 

It was impossible to know for sure how Logan would handle this, though. Handle him. He would want to discover the best method for a lasting impression, right? He’d probably been waiting to experiment different responses. 

“Virgil?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “Sorry, I wasn’t...um, I wasn’t stealing. I-I know how it looks but I promise I was gonna bring them back I was just...I-I knew you were busy so…” 

He trailed off, heart sinking when it occurred to him just how guilty he sounded. He was a thief whether he was going to return them or not, and here he was, babbling like a scared child in front of the evidence. 

He swallowed, knowing there was no way out of it. He shouldn’t be trying to make excuses. “S-sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes, but he saw the logical side take a cautious step forward. “You were...oh, the books. Virgil, if you were interested in borrowing some reading material you could have simply asked.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, the reminder like a punch to the gut. God, why couldn’t he have just asked. A few seconds of anxiety and a bit of awkwardness would have been worth avoiding this. 

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he sneak around and steal from the people he tried so hard to earn the trust of? 

“I...I know,” he managed. “I just...sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have snuck in.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Logan said, the blood rushing to Virgil’s ears as he came closer, voice nearly drowned out by his own racing heart. “It can hardly be considered sneaking- you do live here. Besides, I’ve read most of these already so you are welcome to--” 

At the moment, all Virgil registered was Logan’s presence now beside him, and the hand moving forward just in the corner of his vision. 

He was moving before he had the chance to even think about it, crumpling to the ground out of Logan’s reach, hands moving to protect his face, hunching his shoulders and waiting for the blow. 

The blow that...that didn’t come. 

“Virgil.” 

Virgil flinched at his voice, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. He could feel Logan standing above him, annoyed even more now, no doubt. What was he waiting for? 

“Virgil,” he said again, softer this time. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Logan wouldn’t want to punish Virgil if he wasn’t sure the anxious side was even aware enough to understand. He wanted Virgil to see what he deserved.

He got that. He understood. 

So he nodded, hating how hard it was, digging his nails into his palm when he felt himself growing dangerously close to hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let himself fall under a panic attack. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas because of this. 

Virgil slowly raised his head, realizing idly that he was shaking. His throat felt tight, eyes burning, and Virgil kind of wished he could just hit himself. 

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. He’d known what he was doing, knew all too well what would happen if he fucked it up, and he had (of course he had). 

He deserved this. It was fine. 

He was, however, mildly surprised to find Logan lowered to his level, the logical side crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching Virgil with an almost worried frown. 

“Take some deep breaths, please,” he said. “I was only going to help you pick the books up off the floor. I apologize if I moved too quickly.” 

Virgil shook his head, clenching his jaw to keep the teas at bay, not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Why the hell was Logan apologizing? 

“It’s...it’s whatever,” he managed. “Sorry for, uh, you know. F-freaking out like...like that.” 

“It’s quite alright.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, realizing Logan’s silence was probably him waiting to make sure he wasn’t about to send Virgil over the edge in any way that could affect Thomas.

His heart was in no way slowing, dread and apprehension rising unbearably but...but the waiting was only going to make it worse, the anticipation sickening. Best to get it over with. 

“Alright,” he said, almost impressed with how steady his voice came out. “I’m ready.” 

Virgil expected something to happen right then and there. He was less than prepared for the hesitation followed by...nothing? 

“Ready?” Logan echoed. “Ready for...what?” 

Virgil forced himself the shrug, still not able to quite reach Logan’s eyes, struggling to maintain nonchalance he didn’t feel in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “However, uh...however you wanted to do it, I guess. Whatever you’re gonna do.” 

A beat of silence and Virgil remained tense, bracing himself, willing himself to relax and take it. But all that happened was Logan awkwardly clearing his throat, leaning back on his heels. 

“Well,” he said. “I...had only planned on replacing the fallen books and assisting you in picking out some things to read.” 

Virgil nodded, blinking furiously to push back tears fighting to break through. “Ok? Uh, you mean...before or-or after?” 

“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Logan admitted, incredibly out of character. “Have I missed something? What...exactly do you believe is happening?” 

Virgil wasn't exactly sure why that mattered. Was this...was this part of it? Making sure he understood? 

“Uhm, I-I broke into your room? I mean...I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff without asking. I know...I know that’s not ok. I’m sorry.” 

He saw Logan tilt his head slightly, frown deepening. “It really is not an issue, Virgil. My books aren’t exactly locked away. I would only prefer you ask next time so I do not end up startling you, but you’re reacting as if I--” 

He stopped himself, and Virgil saw the moment realization dawned, something in Logan’s expression hardening. 

Oh. Of course. Logan hadn’t been sure Virgil would know something like this was coming. 

But he did, of course. He understood, as much as he hated it. He was anxiety, there wasn’t any other way to handle him. There wasn’t a choice. 

“Ah,” Logan said, softer than before. “I see.” 

Virgil nodded again, heart still racing so fast he thought Logan might be able to hear it, glad that now they could at least get it over with. 

But Logan still wasn’t moving, still talking in that achingly gentle voice. “Virgil, I have no intention of harming you in any way. I’m not even remotely upset with you.” 

And that...that didn’t make any sense. Virgil had literally just gone into someone else’s room without permission, and Logan had just said he’d prefer to be asked so why--?

Unless...unless he was being given another chance. Again. Another chance he didn’t deserve in favor of over the top friendliness. 

“Don’t,” he said, before he could even consider stopping himself. “Don’t keep doing this, Logan, please I...it’s ok, you guys don’t have to keep pretending. I know you’re angry, I know--” 

“I’m not angry,” Logan interrupted, firm but somehow still gentle, and Virgil shrank back. “I believe we have a larger issue to discuss as a group but for now please understand that I am not angry with you. And even if I was, I would never intentionally bring you any harm. I know for a fact the others would not either.” 

Virgil shook his head, hating all of this, hating feeling small and pitied, hated delaying the inevitable like things could work any other way. 

He hated the treacherous, nagging hope in his chest. 

“But they will,” he insisted. “You all will, I know you're just...waiting to make sure I won’t leave again but I won’t. I know it's how it works, ok? It’s fine.” 

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue. But some of it was true, at least. He wouldn’t try to leave again. He was finally feeling like a part of things. And if he was good, well...maybe that could last. 

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Virgil was just beginning to think he’d finally managed to convince him to set the pity aside when he was speaking again.

“Virgil, do you think you could accompany me to the commons? I believe it is imperative to discuss this with the others.” 

Virgil froze, realizing he may have just made a simple situation worse by raising his voice. Did Logan really need to get everyone? It was bad enough that just Logan was upset with him but all of them...

But he knew better than to risk any further anger by arguing. And Logan was carefully offering a hand, palm up, no sudden movements or pain when Virgil hesitantly took it and was helped to his feet, so maybe...maybe Logan wasn’t actually angry. 

Not right now, at least. 

Logan led them down the hallway to the living room, Virgil unable to stop his trembling the entire time, legs a bit unsteady and weak. He almost wished the short walk took longer, dread building up in his gut the closer he got like a man being led to the gallows. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw both Patton and Roman already there, lounging casually, all smiles amid easy conversation. 

Logan cleared his throat, Virgil left to shift awkwardly beside him, the other two sides immediately glancing up with bright, welcoming smiles. 

Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut at having to ruin that. 

“I believe,” Logan started. “That we need to have a...family meeting, as Patton might call it. There’s been a bit of a miscommunication that needs clearing up.” 

“Everything alright?” Roman asked as Patton, cheerful as ever, waved them both over. Logan didn’t answer, and Virgil was too busy staring at the ground to think of a reply. 

He ended up being seated on the couch beside Roman, Patton sitting across from him and Logan standing at the arm of the couch. For a moment nobody spoke, Roman and Patton clearly at a loss. 

“Virgil,” Logan prompted. “Would you mind telling the others what happened from your point of view?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened, head snapping up to look at Logan with something almost like betrayal, and any hope he’d had that this was going to be forgiven without consequences suddenly vanished. 

But Logan was quick to reassure him, hand moving to rest against Virgil’s clenched fist. “I assure you, nothing about my previous statements will change. I only want to ensure they have all the context.” 

Virgil shakily nodded, like he had any choice in the matter, trying not to wince when his voice came out small and breathy when he finally spoke. 

“I...I went into Logan’s room,” he admitted, waiting for yelling that never came. “While he was with Thomas. I-I was looking for something to read but-but I was going to give it back, I promise, I wasn’t stealing I was just too anxious to ask, so I--” 

“Wait,” Roman interjected, curiosity turning to something close to amusement. “That’s all you did? I steal from Logan all the time!” 

Logan blinked. “You what?” 

“Kiddos,” Patton chided, unable to help the small smile on his lips. “Now we usually don’t go into people’s rooms without asking but I’m sure Logan understood. What’s this all about?” 

Virgil suddenly had absolutely no idea how to respond, this entire conversation now taking a much different turn than he’d expected. 

What the hell was happening? Was this...part of it? It sure felt like he was being punished, but Patton’s smile was as genuine as ever. 

Logan leaned forward, furrowing his brow. 

“Virgil can you tell us what you believe is going to happen to you? What you thought was happening when I found you?” 

Virgil, far too lost to do anything but comply blindly, couldn’t understand why Patton and Roman suddenly looked so confused. 

“I was...I was going to be punished, right?” He didn’t understand the purpose of making him explain something everyone already knew. “I mean, Logan said he wasn’t mad so I guess I’m getting another chance but any other time I would’ve--” 

“Wait a minute, what?” It was Roman’s turn to sound baffled, all his attention now focused solely on Virgil. “Punished? What do you mean, like- like grounding you? You aren’t a child, Virge.” 

“I do not think that’s what he meant.” 

“But he...Logan, he--” 

“Virgil believed,” Logan cut him off, sounding more hesitant than Virgil had ever heard him. “That some type of...physical punishment was inevitable. At least, that is what I gathered.”  

“You think we’re going to hit you?” Patton’s voice, verging on frantic, easily overpowered the others. “Over this? Over anything?” 

Virgil flinched back against the couch, desperately trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d managed to make this so much worse than it was just five minutes ago. 

“I don’t...I'm sorry?” 

“We’re not going to punish you, kiddo,” he said, the word ‘punish’ almost spat out like something sour. “We’d never do that to you! Never.” 

And oh, that was Patton, trying so hard to be kind, even when he was so visibly furious. Looking out for all of them to the end. Careful not to let Virgil’s emotions affect Thomas. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this.” 

Patton blinked, trying and failing to get Virgil to meet his eyes. “Keep doing what, kiddo?” 

“I’m not gonna duck out again,” he said, the smile he offered meant to be reassuring but he was certain it was wobbly and frail. “I-I like it here. With you guys. You don’t need to keep...cutting me all this slack. I know I keep messing up and I know if this is going to...work I have to be--” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Roman’s language wasn’t even corrected, Patton hardly acknowledging the outburst at all, but the moral side looked somehow just as furious. 

And there it was, genuine fear and panic returning with a vengeance, the sudden knowledge that he’d probably done irreversible damage in an effort to reassure them. 

“Kiddo you...what is it that you think you’ve done wrong? You’re not...oh my god, you’re not talking about the little things, are you? Spills or- or misplacing something or...or…” 

“I- yeah?” Because what else would he be talking about? “I’ve been...I’ve been trying to be good, so I-I don’t think I’ve done anything else to--” 

“Is that how you think we handle things?” Roman was rigid beside him, his fury overwhelming, and Virgil hoped one of them would hurry up and just knock him unconscious. “So, what? If Logan drops something am I just supposed to hit him?” 

“Roman,” Logan said, sounding oddly choked. “Please.” 

And oh. Oh. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and Virgil realized all at once why they were so upset with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just a stupid misunderstanding. 

Oh, god. 

“No!” He insisted, voice a little stronger in his desperation for them to understand their mistake. “No, of course not! That’s not...guys, that's not what I meant.” 

The tension in the room dropped a bit, Prince relaxing just slightly, but three pairs of eyes were still watching, painfully concerned. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you thought that,” Virgil continued, a little lightheaded. “Not you guys, never you guys. Obviously not, you all wouldn’t...you shouldn’t be punished like that. Ever. I promise I was just talking about me.” 

He expected relief, understanding, and hopefully to just get this whole thing over with so they could hurry up and go back to normal. 

But apparently he’d only managed to make everyone even more distressed. Logan and Roman’s eyes had gone wide and Patton...Patton had tears streaming down his face. 

“Why would you think that?” It was quiet, barely a whisper, but Virgil had never heard Patton sound so furious, so cold and lifeless. 

“I...I don’t know why you’re--” 

“Virgil why would you think that?” Patton was standing now, taking a step away from the couch with a hand moving to cover his mouth. Logan reached for his shoulder, only to be quickly shrugged off. 

“Patton, please attempt to calm down.” 

“But he...he said...why, Virge? Why just you?” 

Virgil blinked, fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat, still hopelessly lost to what he’d managed to do wrong. Did they...not know? Even Logan? Wasn’t it just...common sense? 

“It’s...because it’s me?” he offered weakly. “I-I’m anxiety. I tend to- to mess things up, guys. I have to be, you know, dealt with differently so it doesn't affect Thomas as much, right?”

He was met only with deafening silence, before Logan cleared his throat, looking for once like he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be saying. 

“That hardly seems logical,” he said, no malice behind it. “How would punishing you more severely do anything but succeed in making your mental state worse?” 

“I...I don’t know. But it works. It makes me more...cautious. You guys haven’t really had to deal with me and my fuck ups before but now that I’m here you’ll have to...I just uh, figured you knew this, I guess. I thought everyone did.” 

“No,” Roman said, hardly audible at all. “We didn’t.” 

Oh. Well...at least it was out now. Virgil may not like it, but he knew getting hurt sometimes was necessary. If it made their lives better, it was worth it in the long run. 

But still…

The thought that if he’d only known, realized sooner that their willingness to let things go and love him unconditionally really was genuine, he could have maybe lived without the fear of punishment for the first time in so long. 

So much for that. All he’d done now was manage to make them angry, and he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’d done to make them all so upset.  

“Who told you that?” Roman asked, Virgil wincing despite himself. “Was it...if it was my brother--” 

“It wasn’t,” Virgil said, not really sure if that was the answer Roman wanted, but it was the truth. Remus and Janus had never been the ones to use any sort of physical violence on him, though Virgil never had any doubt that they could. “It was the others. I...they told me...I really thought you guys knew.” 

Now, looking at it from a suddenly concerning perspective, he wasn’t even sure Remus or Janus had known. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said to the silence, not even sure why anymore. “It wasn’t always that bad. That’s why I asked Logan, I wasn’t sure how you guys...uh, planned on doing it but apparently you didn’t even know you had to so we can--” 

And suddenly Patton was gone, stalking through the kitchen doorway, practically leaving behind a visible trail of utter fury as he went, and Logan was following with one last worried glance over his shoulder. 

Oh god, they were both mad. He’d managed to upset everyone, ruin everything in one conversation, and he couldn’t even apologize properly because he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

He’d just been trying to tell them it was ok, that there was no other way to deal with him, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He hated it, sure. It terrified him. He wanted so badly for it to stop but it couldn’t, it…

It couldn’t. Could it? 

He felt Roman shift on the couch, probably to hurry and follow the others into the kitchen to get away from the mess on the couch they’d accidentally welcomed into their family. 

Before he could stop himself Virgil was reaching forward, grabbing Roman’s sleeve with a weak, trembling hand. 

“Please.” And there was absolutely no point in trying to hide the unsteady wobble of his voice. “Will you...I-I just don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Oh, Virgil.” 

When Prince moved, there was a split second of blind panic where Virgil thought he was being attacked. But it faded as soon as he registered strong arms around him, pulling him against Roman’s chest, and Virgil immediately burst into tears. 

Roman was shushing him gently, holding him tight but somehow not uncomfortably confining, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he muttered quiet reassurances. 

Virgil could only sob into his chest, overtaken by hiccuping gasps that left him dizzy and weak and unable to stop. 

And yet he was distantly aware that through his tears he hadn’t stopped his string of endless apologies, the desperate words falling without his permission. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Roman said, impossibly soft. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I-I ma-made him mad,” he insisted, breath catching on nearly every word as he tried in vain to calm down enough to speak properly. “Patton, I-I...h-he was mad, he’s upset and he’s...he’ll--” 

“Patton isn’t angry,” Roman said. “He’s just a little upset. But not at you! You haven’t done anything.” 

“But I…” he paused, aware enough to consider the words before he said them, how utterly unfair and selfish they were. But maybe…

“I don’t want you guys to hurt me.” 

“We would never,” Roman said, holding tighter without hesitation. ��I know you won’t believe this right away, and you’ll need to hear it from the others too, but just listen to me for now, ok?” 

Roman pulled back, but only slightly. Virgil could still feel the Prince's heart beneath his own shaking fingers, and the creative side carefully cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Virgil. Nobody. I know we’ve only recently become friends, but I swear to you, for the rest of your life, you never have to be afraid of that again. Not from me, not from the others. Not from anyone.” 

Virgil struggled to breathe, chest aching, lungs screaming for air, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “But they...you have to th-they said--” 

“They were lying,” Princey said, with so much venom Virgil had to forcibly remind himself that Roman wasn’t angry with him. “You heard Logan, it doesn’t make sense. No one should...you didn’t deserve that, Virge.” 

But...but he’d...all this time he’d just…

“Patton will you please--” 

“No, Logan! I can’t I- did you hear him?” 

Patton and Logan were still in the next room over, and Virgil could now just make out the two of them standing at the threshold. He forced himself not to whimper at the obvious anger that came from both of them, but didn’t stop himself from clutching at Roman tighter, beyond grateful when Princey did the same. 

“I did,” Logan said. “I was standing right there. But Patton--” 

“How could they…god, how could they just--?” 

“Patton.” Logan hadn’t yelled, not exactly, but it was loud and stern enough to quiet the other’s rant. “I know. I understand that you’re upset- we all are. But right now Virgil thinks you’re upset with him.” 

Virgil’s breath hitched in the sudden silence that followed, doing his best to focus instead on Roman’s breathing, feeling the Prince move to rub along Virgil’s back, still hushing and whispering quiet reassurances. 

He cringed when he heard a tiny gasp followed quickly by two pairs of footsteps making their way towards the couch, and he wondered just how far Roman would have to go to keep his promise. 

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” That was Patton’s voice right above him, soft and sad and...and no longer quite so angry. “Honey...can you look at me please?” 

Virgil tensed, reluctantly moving his head away from Roman’s chest, face burning as he let the others see his tear stained face, heart clenching when he realized Patton wasn’t much better off.  

“Sorry,” Virgil whispered, guided more on frantic instinct than anything else. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Patton reached forward, slow and nonthreatening, lacing his fingers with Virgil’s. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, kiddo. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We would never do that.” 

And god, Virgil wanted so badly to believe that, to hold onto every word, every sympathetic gaze, everything that was so clearly real love rather than pity and never let it go. 

He wanted to feel safe with them. He wanted it more than anything. 

But...but they had all been angry. He’d seen it just moments ago, heard the unmistakable fury in their voices. 

And maybe he’d spoken aloud without realizing, or maybe Logan was just exceptionally good at reading him, because suddenly the logical side was crouched beside Patton, carefully meeting Virgil’s watery eyes. 

“We were not angry at you,” he said slowly. “We’re only angry at whoever thought it was alright to hurt you. Who made you think you could ever deserve it.” 

 “But I…” he didn’t know why he was arguing, why he was frantically searching for reasons to destroy something he wanted to desperately. He settled for the only reason he’d ever really been given. “I’m anxiety.” 

“You do represent Thomas’s fears, yes,” Logan said. “As well as many other fundamental functions.”  

“That doesn’t make you bad, kiddo,” Patton chimed in.  “We love you. All of you. We’re all gonna mess up sometimes, and that’s ok. Mistakes are part of being human.” 

“Well technically we are not human,” Logan pointed out, earning an exasperated sigh from Roman. “But Patton’s point still stands. Each and every one of us will make mistakes. That is, of course, why we have each other. Not to punish, but to assist each other.” 

And that...wow, that sounded good. Impossibly good. God, how did he manage to surround himself with the kindest people in the universe? 

“But what if I…” he swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. “If I do something wrong, like...like really bad--” 

“Then we will discuss it as a group,” Logan said. “And work together to determine what happened and how to fix it without any lasting negative effects. Not just for Thomas, but for all of us.” 

“Indeed!” Roman agreed with his usual flair, reaching around to lightly squeeze Patton and Virgil’s intertwined fingers. “And if any of the others attempt to bring you harm again, they’ll have to get through me first!” 

“All of us,” Patton said, wiping his eyes with his free hand and flashing Princey a grateful smile. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” 

Virgil shrugged, overwhelmed, aware the gesture did nothing to mask the emotion in his eyes. “It’s...it’s really ok, you guys. They aren’t like you, they were just...doing what they thought they had to.” 

Logan frowned, averting his gaze. “Unlikely.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok,” Patton said before Virgil could question exactly what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “And we can see it left you really afraid, kiddo.” 

“I-I guess. Yeah.” 

“Sometimes talking about traumatic experiences can be the first step to moving past them,” Logan said. “And we will, of course, be willing to listen and help however we can.” 

Virgil... didn’t really want to talk about. He still wasn't quite able to wrap his head around the fact that it wasn’t a necessity, never actually had been, a part of him still wholly convinced this was some kind of cruel, awful trick. 

But...but Logan was looking at him with such gentle earnestness, Roman and Patton both nodding and smiling in gentle encouragement, those doubts were quickly being pushed to the side. At least for now. 

They all looked so eager to help, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to shut them down the way his panicked brain, so used to isolation, was screaming at him to do. 

And besides, maybe it could help. Maybe talking would help him come to terms with...whatever it really was that had happened. 

But not right now. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Just, uh...not now. I don’t...I mean, i-if that’s ok, I don’t think I’m...ready.” 

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, only understanding and patient. “Whenever you’re ready. You can come to us in your own time.” 

“Is there...anything we can do for you now?” Roman asked. “Anything to make you feel better?” 

“I guess, uh-” he paused, wondering if it was too much, too selfish a thing to ask. “Maybe just...stay here for a bit? All of us? Only if- if you aren’t busy, obviously, it’s ok if you are, I just thought maybe--” 

“I think that is an excellent suggestion, Virgil,” Logan said. “Having some company will do you good.” 

Patton practically squealed, squeezing Virgil’s hand before hurrying to his feet,  blinding smile on his face. “Ooh! We can make some snacks and bring some blankets over! Be right back!” 

Virgil was carefully maneuvered (probably a bit overly careful, like he was glass that could shatter at any moment) so he was now comfortably pressed against Logan’s side, Roman hurrying to follow Patton with promises to return in seconds, departing with a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. 

Virgil was almost surprised when Logan’s arm moved to wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close, almost as protective and warm as Roman. He’d have thought Logan would be more averse to physical content. 

He’d never been so glad to be mistaken, basking in the warmth like it was a sunlit room. 

Virgil took a breath, breathing a bit easier now. “I really am sorry. I probably...really freaked you out, huh?” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said. “I believe it’s safe to say you were much more...err, freaked out, as you would say.” 

Virgil smiled, relaxing into his hold, but there was still something heavy sitting in his chest, nagging at him to voice it aloud. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I do.” He didn’t move, terrified he’d lose his nerve without the warmth at his side. “I...it was stupid. All of this. I actually thought that...I still don’t really think that this can work. Without...doing all that when I screw up. I want to but it’s...I thought there wasn’t any other way.” 

“There is no reason for you to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” Logan said, slow and careful. “We plan only on treating you as an equal. As someone we care very much for.” 

“I should have known,” he muttered. “You guys are r-really...really great. I shouldn’t have accused you of that.” 

There was a beat of silence that stretched on just a moment too long, and any other time Virgil might have taken that as a perfectly reasonable excuse to begin panicking all over again. 

But with Logan’s protective hold still firmly around him, the easy warmth in his chest that lingered from everyone’s kind words...he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly worried over Logan taking a moment to think. 

“You did not accuse us of anything,” the logical side said, continuing before Virgil could argue. “You reacted to what you assumed to be normal, no one can fault you for that. You’ve been taught to have a very particular mindset. As...upsetting as it is, your reaction was perfectly logical based on the information you had.” 

Logan’s arm moved, just for a moment, to reach around and squeeze Virgil’s hand, just like Patton and Roman had done, just another reminder of newfound safety. 

“What we need to do now,” Logan said. “Is work on making sure you never feel that way again.” 

Virgil nodded against him, finding that, at least for the moment,  his want to believe, to be safe and welcomed, was enough to outweigh the storm of doubt in his racing mind. 

“Ok,” he said, glancing up just in time to see Logan’s relieved smile, loosening his hold as Roman and Patton hurried back to the living room. “Thank you.” 

As the four of them settled down and rearranged themselves, there was an all too familiar burning in Virgil’s eyes, a tight twisting in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear.

This time, if he cried from this feeling, from being content and accepted, it might not be the worst thing in the world. 

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 3: Grocery Gathering

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/58625389

@alexalexisalexej

I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope y’all enjoy!

It had been a little over a week since Remus made the croissants, and the daily routines still hadn’t quite recovered. At breakfast, Virgil showed up ten minutes later than usual, and stood nervously in the doorway, checking to make sure nobody unexpected would be in the kitchen. Roman never came to visit the kitchen, but Patton brought him meals three times a day— 9:30 am, 1:20 pm, and 5:50 pm. Virgil would occasionally join him. 

Patton and Janus still met for tea every single day, but they never stayed in the kitchen anymore. Patton would ask Janus to take walks with him. They’d stroll through Roman’s side of the imagination, then drink their tea and talk. The only reason Logan knew this was because Patton brought it up at dinner one night. Virgil left shortly after. 

The only people who remained unaffected were Remus and him. They kept to their usual schedules. Except now Logan found himself staying up late to talk to Remus while he cooked. He had yet to make paella— something about wanting to save it for a special occasion.

Every day felt like a special occasion. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the charts he had made, one pre-Remus, and one post-Remus. Color coded and organized. Pristine.

“It’s surprising,” Logan had said at breakfast that morning, eating some waffles Patton had made, “that Remus spending one day in the kitchen threw all of our schedules into chaos.”

Virgil glared at him silently. Patton stared down blankly at his waffles.

“I don’t like him,” Patton murmured.

“You seem to get along with Deceit just fine,” Virgil spat, lip twitching in silent anger. Patton sighed.

“His name is Janus, Virgil. Be polite.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because it’s rude to call him Deceit— Logan, how would you feel if we only called you Logic?”

Logan sat straight. If he said he didn’t care, that would be mostly honest. If he said he did care, that would make it seem he had some sort of emotional attachment to his name. He swallowed.

“I don’t care either way. However, Janus now seems to prefer we address him by his real name. Besides, deceit is not his only function.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staring angrily down at his plate of waffles. That was the end of the conversation at the breakfast table. Logan ate in silence, slowly sipping water out of a glass with a lemon on the rim. 

Now, he sat at his desk. The clock said it was 2:28 pm. The kitchen would be perfectly empty, since Virgil and Patton no longer had their little talks in the kitchen. Logan didn’t know where they went, and he didn’t care to ask. Of course he worried about them, but he didn’t think where they talked mattered so much. He set down his pen, thinking of when Roman had run from the kitchen in horror, Remus doing nothing but sitting at the table.

Suddenly, someone knocked at his door. Logan stood from his comfortable office chair, and walked to the door. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair down before calmly opening it. That calm facade almost broke when he saw Remus on the other side, wearing a painfully bright yellow bucket hat, a fishnet shirt, and a green pair of cargo shorts. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Remus.”

“You remember how you said I should make paella? Well I thought real long and hard and I thought that you could not only help me with the cooking but you could also help me with gathering the shit that goes in it! Like clams and mussels. One recipe says squid but I’ve honestly never cooked with squid and I’m not interested in fucking with that.”

Logan blinked, slowly trying to take in the information, and the sight of Remus before him. Remus never came to his room. Nobody did. It seemed like there had been an unspoken rule made, that he was never to be interrupted. Now the matter at hand.

“You want me to accompany you in collecting the ingredients?”

Remus nodded violently, causing the bright hat to flop off his head. He picked it up, and put it back on. Logan blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And this involves going under the water?”

“No shit Sherlock! That’s where the mussels are! Unless you count these guns—“ Remus flexed his arms, a stunning smile on his face. Logan looked at the bag he carried, then to the yellow hat on his head.

“I think it would be best if you changed into something more… sensible.”

Remus wagged his brows, leaning up against the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m wearing a speedo under these shorts.”

“I meant the hat. It will make you very, very visible.”

“It’s okay,” Remus rebutted, “I think fish are colorblind. Maybe. Do you know?”

Logan gnawed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say so, that would be seen as weakness. But Remus was… different, somehow, uncaring about strength and weakness. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know,” Logan responded, “most fish only see two colors, but I’m unsure how many can see yellow. However, if your plans are to go underwater, it would be wise to forgo the hat.”

Remus shrugged, took off his hat, and tossed it into Logan’s room. It landed on the neat sheets of his bed.

“We won’t be in the water the whole time,” Remus said, “we still have to get other things? Like, erm, I don’t have the recipe on me but we’re almost out of apples, and honey— honey will be a bitch to get but you know what I have?”

Logan furrowed his brows, staring at the bag.

“A beekeeping suit, a smoker, and an apiary of some sort?”

“Nope! Just my morning star and overwhelming hubris!”

Logan didn't know what he’d expected. Of course Remus wouldn’t go about getting honey in any sort of logical way. 

“There are other things we will need.”

“You have a special request?”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t. But paella requires saffron,” Logan explained. “Saffron is derived from the stigma of Crocus sativus.”

“Huh? What’s uh….” Remus trailed off, snapping his fingers a few times. “What’s the common name of that?”

“They are also known as autumn crocus, or saffron crocus. Do you know where these flowers grow?”

Remus raised his eyebrows, tapping his fingers to one another— thumb to index, thumb to middle, thumb to ring, thumb to pinkie. 

“Lemme think… I have a spice garden in my side, but I didn’t know that saffron came from a fucking flower! But I do have a bit of land I could… flowers. Goddamn! Saffron from flowers! That’s pretty cool! I have to ask— how did people think of putting it on shit?”

Logan suppressed a smile as Remus flapped one of his hands a little. It felt nice, being asked harmless questions, not being interrupted. Even then, he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for Remus to tell him to shut up. He took a deep breath.

“It is commonly believed that saffron originated in Greece, however most of it is grown in Iran, I believe.” He paused, giving Remus ample time to say something. Instead, Remus waved his hand at him.

“Well? Go on.” 

Logan shifted from foot to foot.

“Saffron is incredibly expensive due to the fact that one flower only produces three strands when it blooms, and the flowers only bloom for one week each year. Saffron has been used and cultivated by humans for more than three thousand and five hundred years, and has been used not only as a seasoning, but also as a dye, fragrance, and medicine.”

Remus grinned, eyebrows raised. 

“Cocaine used to be used as a medicine! Freud diagnosed it to some of his patients for depression, I think! Did you know that cocaine, like meth, can cause people to hallucinate vermin crawling under their skin? And they’ll scratch at their skins to get them out!”

“Ah, yes, delusional parasitosis, also called formication.”

“Fornication?”

Logan shook his head.

“I doubt formication and fornication could be mistaken for one another, unless ones idea of fornication is subdermal penetration.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me!” Remus cried, rolling his shoulders. Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a small smile, but turned his expression back to a straight face as quickly as he could. 

“So what are you looking to retrieve?” Logan asked. Remus reached into one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He dramatically unfolded it.

“Apples, honey, saffron, I guess, and mussels and clams and whatever else we may find. So is that a yes?”

Logan paused for a moment. He’d been to Roman’s side of the imagination, and the land was bright and beautiful, filled with fantastical creatures and lush landscapes. However, Remus was the opposite of Roman, or at least the bits of creativity that Thomas considered unpleasant enough to purge from his consciousness. So what did that include? The horrifying, the macabre, and the explicit. Dicks, drugs, and the disturbing. None of it could hurt him. And judging by the fact Remus sought him out to come with him, he wouldn’t even be threatened. As long as he was cautious, he would remain unharmed during their journey. That was reasonable enough to assume.

 But what about the others? He would be expected back at dinner, which was at five pm. That would only give him two and a half hours with Remus, and time seemed to go much faster while around him, probably something to do with how Remus’ nature distorted reality around him, that reality including the way one would perceive time passing. Logan looked into his room. If he left the door closed, the others wouldn’t bother him. Patton would leave dinner outside of his door, he’d done it before, many times, but he wouldn’t come in. So he could miss dinner. If they asked questions, he could say he was busy. And they’d believe him.

Logan stared at the yellow bucket hat, garish and blinding on top of his sheets. He swallowed.

“Yes, I will accompany you.”

Remus flapped his hands expressively, smiling like a million and a half suns. He hopped from foot to foot, then did a little spin. 

��Fuck yeah! I’ll let you get changed, meet me in the kitchen as soon as possible! It’ll be so much fun!”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to tell Remus he would be wearing his usual clothing, Remus sprinted away. He let out a deep sigh. He wore his usual outfit— black dress pants, a black polo, indigo tie, dress shoes. Comfortable and professional. If he were to open his closet, there would be exact clones of the exact same outfit. Of course there was always the clothing he wore on Halloween, but a bulky, velveteen coat would be even less practical. The Sherlock costume would be out of the question, and he’d long since gotten rid of his onesie. 

So that left him in his typical outfit. However, the tie around his throat could possibly get caught and damaged. Logan touched his striped indigo tie, and slowly loosened it. Halfway through doing so, he realized he would look like an absolute fool without his tie. Even to Remus. Logan pulled the tie tight, so tight it almost choked him, and walked out of his room, slowly shutting the door behind him.

Logan silently crept through the hallway then down the stairs, making sure to skip the one squeaky step. If Virgil caught him with Remus, willingly spending time with him… well, he didn’t know how he would react. Virgil hated him, saw him as a nuisance, and there certainly was some history between the two of them. He had no clue what, despite the fact Virgil had once been a ‘dark’ side. 

He stepped into the kitchen. Remus sat on the table, kicking his legs back and forth. Somehow, even wearing those ridiculous clothes, he looked like he belonged in the kitchen. Logan pushed his glasses up. Remus smiled at him, hopping off of the table and grabbing his arm in a tight grip. His hands felt burning hot.

“Are you ready to go?”

Was he? If the others—

“—Yes, I am.”

Remus tugged on his arm, and they both sunk down into the white tile of the kitchen floor.

A gust of warm, sweet air hit him in the face. Logan gasped at the sensation, staggering backwards. He tripped on a stone, and landed on his ass in tall grass. All around them grew wildflowers and grass, and the clouds gently danced in the sky. The flowers swayed in the wind, blossoms of all hues growing around them. Truly, a beautiful landscape. Strange.

“Is this your side of the imagination?” Logan asked, ignoring Remus’ offered hand in favor of standing up by himself. 

“Yup! Wild and uncivilized. I had an idea for a monster— it’s an intelligent being that’s made of fungi that connects to the roots of plants, like how a brain makes neuron paths! Earth brain! We’re currently standing upon the brain of the smartest being in the imagination! Well, except for you, now that you’re here.”

Logan nervously looked down at his feet, face flushed. He really didn’t want to ask what the thing looked like, but his curiosity begged him to. His ego, meanwhile, preened at the small praise.

“Does it have a body?” Logan asked, “does it need to feed?”

“Yes to both questions!” Remus proclaimed, “The body is like. Laying down sort of? It’s like a big, smart pancake! And it eats! Don’t worry, it won’t eat us. Or any other side. Or cows since it’s lactose intolerant. But it won’t eat any sentient beings, like us sides! Except for Roman and his creations of course.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why only him?”

Remus twirled around, then pointed off into the distance. Logan looked to where he was pointing, and there in the horizon he spotted a massive palace, one he immediately recognized as belonging to Roman.. 

Remus opened his mouth, then suddenly shut it, a manic smile splitting his face. 

“Look, here comes a unicorn! Oh, you’ll love this.”

And just as Remus had said, a white stallion with a gleaming horn pranced into the field of flowers. It wandered forward, then bent down and started to graze. As it opened its mouth to take a bite, the plants suddenly burst to life, wrapping around the unicorn. It fought and kicked as the thick grass dragged it to the ground— no, into the ground, as if the prairie earth had turned into quicksand. The unicorn whinnied and thrashed, until it was pulled fully under the ground, horn disappearing in the thick foliage. 

“It absorbs its prey, like a protist.” Logan said breathlessly. If he could feel, he wouldn’t know if he felt shocked or impressed. 

“Yeah! This land, in like a mile wide stripe, is the border between my land and Roman’s. And I don’t want anything to do with his shit. So anything that comes over here gets chomped up by Bartholomew!”

“Bartholomew?” Logan asked.

Remus crouched, patting the ground. He flopped onto his front, pressing a little kiss to the earth.

“It goes by Bart for short. And don’t worry, we had a conversation and it’s fine with it/its pronouns. Anyways what should we get first?”

Logan stared at the earth, shifting from foot to foot. Thousands of questions were bubbling in his head, but Remus had brought him to gather ingredients, not to ask questions. 

“Apples,” he croaked out. Remus leapt to his feet, looking him in the eye.

“I said it won’t absorb you. It only eats Roman and Roman’s shit. And even if you did get eaten, you’d be able to sink out. You’re safe.”

Logan inhaled slowly, then let out a deep breath. He didn’t care if he was safe. He wanted to ask how Bartholomew dissolved its prey, what acid it used to break down prey, he wanted to ask about the ph of the soil—

“Let’s go get the apples,” Logan insisted.

Remus nodded.

“The orchard is like, ten miles away? I don’t know but I can teleport us. Will it make you puke? Since Jannie told me that when he and Patton were in the imagination they saw Roman and Roman teleported them away from him and then Patton puked his guts up!”

“I don’t puke,” Logan explained, “I’m not human, and I can’t pretend to be.”

“You are a part of a human. Anyways, let’s go!”

Remus grabbed his arm, and the world shifted around them, the ground fell out from under his feet— for an instant, he felt like he was flying and falling all at the same time.

Then the ground appeared again. Logan stumbled. The sun was filtered through the branches of tall trees, taller than any apple tree he’d seen. The ground felt hard, and thorny bushes grew between each massive tree. Strangely enough, even though the air felt warm, the branches had no leaves, as if winter was coming. Logan looked down at his feet. The earth was covered in a layer of frost. He crouched down and touched it, and his fingers brushed coarse weeds and warm frost.

“This is fascinating,” Logan said. He scooped a little bit of frost into his hand. It didn’t melt. 

“How so?”

“Where do I start? The trees— they’re far too tall to be apple trees, yet they still bear fruit. And they have no leaves, which raises the question of how they perform photosynthesis. Not only that but the ground is covered in frost, and the frost is warm. The frost is warm, but it also doesn’t melt in my touch. Truly fascinating.”

Remus flicked his wrist, and a red apple the size of a fist fell into his palm.

“I like the way that frost looks, but I fucking hate the cold! So I made this place! And the branches are high so I can climb them and see out above the entirety of the land! But if you take issue with the height of the trees…”

Remus took a bite of the apple. He stomped his foot. Suddenly, one of the trees shrank, smaller and smaller, until it was the size of an actual apple tree. Ripe, beautiful apples hung off the branches.

“There,” Remus said, “that should be low enough for you to reach.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Logan said, “do you have something to keep the apples in?”

Remus reached into the bag, and pulled out a wicker basket. Logan almost asked how he managed to do that, but realized it would be pointless. This was Remus’ land, it ran by his rules.

“I have a question!” Remus proclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Logan said, silently glad Remus had gone back to asking questions.

“Why are you so touchy about shapeshifting? Like. You never do it. I mean when the cameras aren’t rolling. You look exactly like Thomas and you never change it up!”

Logan froze. He pulled an apple from one of the branches and set it carefully in the basket.

“Patton is emotionally unstable. Virgil is a ticking time bomb. Roman tends to prioritize fantastical ideals over reality. Janus is level headed, but Thomas only just accepted him. And I’m unsure if he’ll ever accept you.”

Remus took another big bite of the apple.

“And what does this have to do with you not shapeshifting?”

Logan sighed.

“Thomas needs someone to be steady. Someone for him to rely on and trust no matter what the situation is. I don’t want to lose his trust.”

Remus giggled. Logan picked another apple.

“He trusts Patton even when he’s a fucking puppet. It’s not about trust, is it?”

Logan set the apple down in his basket.

“How many of these do we need?”

“Fuck if I know, fill the basket. But if it’s not about trust, then what is it about?”

Logan picked an apple, staring at the deep red color. He rubbed it against his polo, and he could see his reflection.

“Thomas hasn’t been listening to me as much as he should. I’m hoping that if I maintain the same appearance as him, he’ll be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

Logan stared at the apple. He shouldn’t be here. If the others found out he’d spent so much time with Remus, then what would they think of him? Would they consider him a friend anymore? That plus the fact he was picking apples, something they didn’t even need to do because they could be summoned with the snap of a finger. He didn’t need to eat. Logan set the apple in his basket.

Remus hummed. He flicked his wrist again, and apples began to rain from the sky. They struck the ground hard enough to bruise, and the noise they made was thunderous.

“Do you think the apple rain helps or diminishes the experience of apple picking?”

Logan stared up at the sky— cloudy, with a chance of apples.

“I don’t think catching apples in a basket counts as picking.”

“But it does count as fun!” Remus insisted.

“It’s not very effective.”

“Really now? Watch this!”

Remus pulled another wicker basket from the bag, and held it above his head. One, two, three apples hit the basket hard. The fourth made a sickening crunch as it hit the basket, and Logan flinched.

“What was that?”

“Some of the apples have bones!”

Logan furrowed his brows, looking at Remus. Another apple fell into his basket, thankfully lacking the crunching.

“An odd feature for an apple to have. What are the purpose of the bones? Structural stability? Do the bones assist in reproduction?”

“None of that!” Remus responded, “I just like the crunch! And Jannie likes the extra calcium!”

Logan nodded. Somehow, the fact that nothing made sense was logical. This was Remus’ land, it obeyed him. He plucked another apple from the tree.

“You know, Logan,” Remus said after a moment,  basket held over his head, “I think you’re Eve.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Remus shrugged. Another apple landed in the basket with a crunch.

“Well, you see, Eve ate the apple from the forbidden tree, because she wanted to know the difference between good and evil, she wanted to see like god. In all honesty, I don’t think she was tricked. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was getting into. She was just scared to be held liable. She was scared of the judgement.”

Logan plucked another apple from the tree. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. What Remus was saying made no sense. If God had dropped him in the garden and told him to not eat the apple, he would’ve followed the rules. And he certainly feared no judgement. Certainly.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? So you would have rather stayed ignorant? Unharmed by what you don’t know?”

Logan froze. Remus continued talking.

“I remember Janus told me you really went off at him when he suggested that ignorance is bliss. So, I think you’re just like Eve. I mean, would you give up peace for knowledge?”

Logan plucked another apple. Of course he would. What he wanted more than anything was a life full of books and reading, knowing everything there was to know. Being an academic.

“That isn’t my choice to make. Thomas has chosen his path in life.”

“But what if it was your choice? Then what would you do?”

Logan picked another apple. The basket was close to full.

“I would choose knowledge. I have told you what I would do as a human, I would pursue knowledge above all. I wouldn’t be able to stop my pursuit. I would never be satisfied.”

Remus snapped his fingers, and the apple rain stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. Proverbs 1, verse 20.  You’d never be able to stop learning once you started. Which I think is pretty cool!” Remus looked him dead in the eye, lowering his basket from his head. “You’re a passionate guy, Lo. Show it. I liked hearing you talk about saffron. And if they won’t listen? Then—“

“Then make them listen. Yes. You said it before.” Logan sighed. “I must admit, I don’t think I would be able to. Once they see me as a joke, it’s over. I’m only listened to when I’m being used to counter something that inhibits Virgil and Patton. For example, when you and Janus first appeared. I… I think we have enough apples.”

Remus took his basket, full of apples, and shoved it into the bag. Logan gave him his basket, and watched Remus make it disappear.

“If they won’t listen to you just because they see you act improperly, because they see you smile and feel happy, then they’re a bunch of hypocrites that I want to punt into the fucking sun.”

Logan took a deep breath in. A tiny little voice inside of him screamed to lash out, punch a tree in anger and frustration and pain, but that would be illogical. The apples had been picked. That was all. Now saffron, or honey, or whatever Remus would drag him to next. Then he’d be back in his room, asleep in his chair, then in the morning—

“I honestly don’t know why you care so much,” Remus said.

Logan exhaled.

“They’re all I have.”

Remus set a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re have me now, too. Let’s go get the saffron!”

The earth suddenly fell out from under his feet. Logan couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped his mouth, hand flying out to grab Remus’ arm. Then as quickly as it disappeared, the earth came back, and his feet hit the ground. He yanked his hand away from Remus, brushing invisible dust off of the front of his shirt. 

They had appeared in a desert. The sun beat down bright and strong, no clouds in the sky to inhibit it. His feet sank into the sand. A harsh wind kicked up the sand, and it flew around in a flurry like a blizzard. Logan gazed at the horizon. Nothing for miles and miles, just sand, low and level.

“Is this where you find saffron?” Logan asked. Remus crossed his arms.

“You should know better than anyone that flowers can’t grow in a desert! And besides, I just found out saffron came from flowers. So I have to grow them!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why bring us to a desert then?”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Remus turned away from him. He raised his hands out, like he was conducting a band. He slowly breathed in. Logan felt the sand under his feet shift, pull together, and shake. Logan’s eyes went wide.

“What’re you—“

Remus turned back to Logan, eyes filled with fire.

“What is the best condition for crocuses, Logan?”

Logan swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Saffron crocuses bloom in early to mid fall, and prefer sandy loam and lots of sunshine. They prefer soil with good drainage, as well as a pH range of 6.0 to 7.0. Crocus grow best in hardiness zones 5 through 8, not too hot, but not too cold either.”

A cool, fall breeze ruffled Remus’ hair and the fishnet shirt he wore. Logan raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell the temperature, but it certainly had gotten cooler.

“What is sandy loam?” Remus asked, knocking Logan’s train of thought off the tracks.

Logan paused for a moment. Remus really wanted to know. But why? The imagination didn’t follow the laws of physics or nature, why would he want to know? He said he liked hearing him talk. But did he?

“Sandy loam is soil that, while containing silt and clay, has primarily sand in it. It is a good soil for gardening because of its draining abilities… Does it matter?”

Remus tilted his head.

“Well, if you were to be making a big ol’ crocus field, you’d care about the soil! Everything about it! So since it matters to you…”

Remus smiled brightly, and grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him. Logan let himself be pulled, finding himself right in front of Remus, stumbling as the ground shifted under his feet. Bright sand melded together and changed, turning into dark, rich earth. Logan knelt, scooping a little bit into his hand. Sandy loam. 

The soil in his hand moved, like a miniature earthquake. A small, green sprout rose from the dirt, reaching towards the sun. Delicate green leaves grew, and so did a small, purple bud. It opened. Vibrant amethyst petals showed themselves to him, but so did three red stigma. Saffron.

“My god,” Logan said, “that was amazing!”

Remus snorted out a laugh.

“What, you've never seen Roman do something like that?”

Logan shook his head. Roman preferred to run his side of the imagination like an actual human kingdom, planting saplings and waiting patiently for them to grow. Sometimes, he’d see Roman in the wheat fields, harvesting wheat with a large iron scythe, just how a human would do. He let everything take its time, and grow at its own pace. 

“Really?” Remus crowed. “Well then— watch this!”

Remus cackled, and snapped his fingers.

The ground shifted under Logan’s knees, and hundreds of little green sprouts poked out from the dark earth, basking in the gentle sunlight. Glorious purple buds opened to reveal perfect crocuses, each with three sprigs of saffron inside. Logan gazed out to the horizon. The desert had turned to a field of purple, as grand and never ending as a sunset.

Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock. For miles and miles, nothing but crocus…

“Amazing,” Logan whispered, “absolutely amazing.”

With a thud, Remus sat down next to him. He leaned forward, and tore one of the crocuses from the ground, holding it up to Logan. Then, the petals shuddered, as if blown by an invisible wind, merging and shifting until they had formed a purple frog.

“Look,” Remus exclaimed, “it’s a croak-us!”

Logan couldn’t help but snort with laughter, covering his mouth quickly. His eyes went wide. Remus didn’t seem to have any intention of poking fun at him for laughing, but it was better safe than sorry. Though he couldn’t help but think of Remus, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but an apron, saying that he’d beaten him fair and square, and could do so again. Logan lowered his hand from his mouth, chuckling quietly. It was a pretty funny pun.

"Yes," Logan opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. "'It's quite ribbit-ing." 

Logan looked up, meeting Remus’ eyes. There was no judgement, no smugness. Remus looked absolutely fucking delighted, a manic glint in his eyes.

"You've toad the line!” Remus cackled. Logan laughed quietly, staring right at the little frog in the flower, trying to think of another frog pun. His brows furrowed in thought. 

"Did you know that in South America, there's a species of big frog with enough poison to kill two thousand men?” Remus said, interrupting Logan’s train of a thought. 

"I don't believe that's true. The golden dart frog grows only up to five millimeters, as opposed to the goliath frog, which can grow up to three-hundred and twenty, and weigh just over four pounds."

“Damn, you know a lot about frogs,” Remus said, “it’s pretty cool!”

“I researched them extensively after Patton turned into one, just in case another problem arose.” 

They stared at each other, much too long to be considered normal. Remus's lips twitched. The silence grated on Logan’s nerves. Had he said something wrong? 

“Would you like to play a word association game?” Logan nervously asked.

"Part two: Electric Boogaloo!" Remus exclaimed, startling the croak-us enough to hop into the fields of its former kin.

He brought his hand down onto Logan's in a low five, purple petals smeared onto his palm. Remus was still grinning, parts of his moustache standing on end, like he'd been shocked. Electric Boogaloo. Remus sat, cross-legged in the new soil so they were face to face. Logan brushed against him, and felt the burn of a spark go out on his leg. Electric Boogaloo, again.

"Vampire,” Remus said.

Logan’s mind jumped to when Virgil had dressed as a vampire for halloween.

"Halloween."

“Black?”

"Orange."

"Bok choy!” Remus chirped.

Logan paused. What led to that connection? Remus shrugged.

"Plant,” Logan said, brushing off his previous confusion.

"Maple.”

"Canada.”

"Pancakes."

"Syrup."

"HONEY!"

Remus snapped, loud as a cracking whip. Logan watched him shake a freshly printed page he clutched in his hand, peering at it intensely. 

“It says on our list that we need honey!”

Logan looked back out at the field of crocuses. Every single one of them had three sprigs of saffron inside, red and beautiful. He could smell it, the aroma beautiful and heavy. 

“We have to harvest the saffron first, for the paella. How much will we need for the recipe, Remus?”

Remus sighed.

“Harvesting saffron ourselves sounds like a big waste of time. Don’t you think?”

Logan brushed his fingers on the warm, rich soil. He imagined Remus and him in the field of saffron, carefully plucking saffron from the flowers, putting the delicate threads in jars to be dried later. Then he could ask all the questions in the world about the soil, the saffron. He could spend hours talking to Remus about everything he wanted to. He wanted to say so much. And yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. Remus wouldn’t tell him to shut up, so what was stopping him? Nothing was stopping him.

“Yes,” Logan said, “it would take up a good deal of time. But honey won’t take that long, will it?”

“I don’t even need honey,” Remus admitted, “I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you without any of the others popping in or having to wait until like five am. You’re the functional one, you gotta get some sleep.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. Remus’ words slowly went through his head. His heart did a backflip— even though that certainly was anatomically impossible— and his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Yeah,” Logan said, voice quiet, “I do. I mean— uh. Spending time with you is much better than laying unconscious for eight hours.”

“As if you get eight hours of sleep,” Remus said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“So. We don’t need honey?”

“We still need mussels.”

“Mussels, yeah,” Logan said, breathless, standing up, “lead the way.”

“What about the saffron?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. He stood.

“...Well. We can always come back for that some other time.”

Remus nodded, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, some other time. Well then. Off we go!”

Remus grabbed Logan’s arm, and the world fell away from them. Logan closed his eyes. 

Waves crashed gently. He could hear them, and feel a cold sea breeze blow on his skin, ruffling his hair. He slowly opened his eyes. Apparently, night had fallen while his eyes were shut, and moonlight bathed everything in a pearly pale light. The air smelled like salt. Both of his feet were solidly on a wooden dock. Remus’ hand still felt warm on his arm.

“How long did that take?” Logan asked. The sun had still been up when they left.

“It’s always night here,” Remus explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I like it better that way. Look at the beach and you’ll see why.”

Logan turned his head. The moon shone gently on the black sand beach, but more impressive were the waves— each foaming, rushing wave carried with it an ethereal teal glow, like all the stars in the sky were gently ebbing with every wave. Logan stared at the water, eyes wide. 

“The waves glow like that because of an algal bloom, right? And when the water moves it causes the algae to glow. It is absolutely wonderful, Remus.”

Remus smiled, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he was shy.

“Thanks, this place is one of the first places I’ve ever made, and the first one I felt satisfied with. The rest of this place I like to keep constantly changing, but not here.”

Remus walked to the end of the dock. He calmly set his bag down, then yanked off his fishnet top, holding it in his hand. Logan watched his hands undo the button of his shorts, then watched Remus toss his shorts onto the dock, revealing the bright green speedo he wore, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Remus raised his arms out like Christ on the cross, looking up at the full moon. Then he tilted backwards, gracefully falling off the dock, and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Logan slowly walked to the end of the dock. He knelt, knees pressed against wet wood. Even through the glowing waves and the dark water he could see Remus’ back, his legs, pale skin disappearing quickly underwater. 

Logan’s hands clasped the indigo fabric of his tie. Then they drifted down. He sat down, cross legged, staring down at the water. Slowly, he took one shoe off, setting it carefully behind him. Then the other. He pulled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Then his pants, leaving him in boxers, his shirt, and his tie. He took off his glasses.

His hands clasped his tie again. He gazed at the water, dark as the night around him except for the beautiful waves and the occasional glimpse of Remus’ skin. Then he raised his head, staring out into the distance. He could see for miles. Empty, dark ocean, with no land in sight. Slowly, he loosened the knot. His hands shook. 

Remus wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he took off his tie. He wouldn’t see him as less. He would see him as Logic, as Logan. Nothing less. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cold, salty air. pulled off his tie, setting it with the rest of his clothing. Before he could lose his nerve he yanked his shirt off, threw it haphazardly in the pile of clothing, and ran to the end of the dock. He jumped. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the air, flying to the water—

He landed with a loud, graceless splash. The water around him lit up like fireworks. Surprisingly, the water felt warm compared to the bite of the wind. Logan couldn’t tell where Remus was, he just knew he was underwater with him now. Logan kicked and paddled until he reached the surface, gasping for breath. A sharp laugh escaped him. His heart pounded in his chest— he could feel it beating, even though he knew he didn’t need one to function. The waves rushed over him, bright as all the stars. 

Logan treaded water in place, then let himself tilt back, until he floated on his back. Waves gently rocked him, and he let them. What had he been so scared of? He laughed again, much quieter, listening to the waves rush to shore. 

Next to him, he heard Remus surface, taking a deep breath.

“You good?” Remus asked. Logan turned his head a little, looking at Remus. His hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead.

“Perfectly fine,” Logan responded, “and you?”

Remus didn’t answer, just smiled and sunk into the water. The wind blew cold over his skin, sending a shudder up his spine. Remus had to be swimming under him, collecting the mussels he’d use for the paella. Logan couldn’t help but wait for the time they’d be able to spend in the kitchen, knees bumping, or the time they’d spend collecting saffron, the sun shining on violet flowers in a golden gleam. 

Logan breathed out slowly. There was something with Remus that made all his thoughts become portraits. Cohesive, yes, but coated in a loveliness that never used to be there. It might have to do with the imagination. It might not. 

The waves beneath him swelled, then gently ebbed out. Remus surfaced again, treading water as easily as breathing. He’d changed his fishnet top into a net, which was full of mussels and what looked like clams, maybe? Logan couldn’t tell. 

Remus gingerly grabbed Logan’s arm. The waves under them swelled. 

“Let’s go back up onto the dock,” Remus whispered.

Logan nodded. Within the blink of the eye, they both appeared on the dock, both of them soaking wet. Remus shook his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. Logan raised his hand to keep the water from hitting him, even though he was already absolutely soaked. Remus set the bag of shellfish on the dock with a clatter. 

He calmly took one out of the net, and Logan realized they were oysters, not clams. Remus grabbed his bag, unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a knife. He held the oyster carefully, curved side flat against his palm, and wiggled his knife into the hinge between the shells. Remus’ hands were surprisingly steady, even as the knife slipped between the shells and the oyster popped open. He scraped the knife against the inside of the shell, freeing up the meat, then knocked the oyster back like a shot.

Silently, he offered Logan the knife. Their fingers brushed as Logan took the hilt of the knife, grabbing an oyster from the net. He mimicked Remus’ movements, trying to slip the knife between the two shells. Remus chuckled, and grabbed the hand that held the knife. 

“You have to press harder,” he said, “you can’t finesse your way into the shell, you have to put some oomf behind it. If you don’t, it’ll never ever open up.”

Logan swallowed. He felt oddly lightheaded as Remus guided the knife between the shells of the oyster, helping him push the knife into the space between the shell, easing the hinges apart with the flat of the blade. The shell slipped into the cup of his fingers, just so, supported by the weight of Remus's hands over his, thumb pushing against his, twisting the hinge open with a pop.

"See?" Remus was grinning, that ever-present expression of glee, and Logan tore his eyes from it to the movement of hands again, guiding the knife under the oyster to lift the flat shell off. 

"These would be good for the garden," Logan blurted out. Remus looked up, just as attentive as he'd always been, and the words caught in his throat for a second. "For- for the soil, oyster shells, when ground into powder, have been shown to improve soil pH and nutrient status, strengthening cell walls due to an increase in calcium, overall resulting in healthier produce.”

Remus tilted his head. Logan’s face flushed.

“...I know you employ an extraordinary method of growing and cultivating, and therefore have no need for this knowledge, but tossing them aside or simply letting them disappear seemed.. unnecessary."

"I think you need to stop worrying about what I need to know, and start asking what else I'd want to hear,” Remus said with a grin, “But it is flattering that you think it's extraordinary. Now why don’t you try the oyster?”

Logan stared at the meat of the oyster.

“I just… drink it?”

“Like a shot, yeah.”

Logan slowly brought the oyster to his mouth. Slowly, he tilted his head back, opening his mouth.

The taste made his eyes go wide. The meat of the oyster was plump against his tongue, but it tasted like coppery brine. He swallowed it without chewing, since he hadn’t noticed Remus’ jaw moving. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh, ocean air.

“Why don’t you stay here?” Remus suddenly asked. Logan’s eyes shot wide open. He had another oyster in his hands, wriggling his knife between the shells.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Remus looked down at the oyster, face surprisingly blank and unreadable.

“You spend all day in your room except for when you come out and cook with me. I have a feeling that I almost wasn’t able to get you out of your room today. So why don’t you just stay here? I can make you a castle or a cottage for you to study in, and you won’t have to worry about the others bothering you. And you’ll be able to come here whenever you want. So what do you say. Will you stay?”

Logan stared down at his hands. He could. He could say yes, and watch Remus make him a place to stay, a place that was truly his. No worries of anyone walking in and seeing him disheveled, just himself and Remus.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes. I’m needed with the rest of the sides, and Virgil may see my leaving as betrayal, or a sign of untrustworthiness. I need to keep them on my side. I need them to trust me, to listen to me.”

Remus still was fixated on the oyster. The knife slipped between the two shells, and it popped open. Remus’ brows rose.

“I still think you’d enjoy it here more than you would crammed in your little room all the time. And I don’t know how to tell you in a way that’ll make you listen, but they need you more than you think they do. You are all of Thomas’ cleverness and wit. Where would he be without you? Creativity is nothing without knowledge— whether its working with or against knowledge.”

Logan shook his head. Remus slowly reached for Logan’s hand. Logan let him take it, pull his fingers open, and press something into his palm. It felt like a pebble. Logan felt his hands ball into fists.

“Roman seems to mostly work against me, but at least Thomas heeds his words. I really can’t stay here. I…. I should honestly go. It’s late.”

Logan awkwardly stood, fists still clenched. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out. A part of him still wanted to stay, to sit with Remus at the dock and watch the glowing waves, to eat oysters with him. He closed his mouth and nodded. Remus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll teleport you and your clothes back to your room. Just… you’re welcome back whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”

Logan smiled. He wanted to say something, but the next thing he knew the world vanished around him. Then it reappeared, and he saw the door to his room. There was a bowl of spaghetti in front of it. It had long grown cold, but Logan picked it up anyways, and stepped into his room.

He set the bowl of spaghetti on his desk, and haphazardly tossed his clothes on the floor. He felt soaked to the bone, and started to shiver a little, even though he knew he couldn’t feel cold, couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t feel the cocktail of conflicting emotions inside of him. With a sigh, he sat in his office chair. His hands, still curled into fists, shook slightly. What had Remus given him? Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. 

Resting in his palm was a round, black pearl. 

Logan stared at the black pearl in his palm. A million different thoughts rushed through his head, most of them strange and illogical. He could go back to the pier and watch the luminescent waves, or help Remus grind the oyster shells down into fertilizer. And they would eat oysters together until they had enough pearls to make a necklace, a necklace he’d wear wherever he went.

Then what? 

Then Logan would wear the necklace, and someone would ask where he got it from.

This was for the best for Thomas’ stability. It had to be.

Logan let his head flop against the headrest of his office chair, and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

He never let go of the pearl.

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 1 (r.l.)

chapter one: certain uncertainty 

series masterlist

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: remus reflects on when he lost the person he held closest to his heart. 

warnings: swearing 

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi! this is a new remus series i’m working on. WARNING it’s going to be slowburn. hope you enjoy <33

REMUS LUPIN was never one to rely on the idea of certainty. In his sixteen years of life, Remus had gathered that the way the world worked didn’t allow for anything to be certain. For example, he could have been certain that the only peculiar thing about him would have been that he was a wizard (and really this was only peculiar to unknowing muggles). However, at the age of four, his life went off track and he was suddenly a werewolf and had no understanding of what that meant. It wasn’t always bad, however. Sometimes life was uncertain in a good way. At one time Remus was certain that a life of isolation was a fate he would have to accept, but within his first day at Hogwarts, he was proven wrong. 

And so, Remus decided that it was okay that virtually nothing was certain. He had even begun enjoying the uncertainty of life at times. He enjoyed not knowing what crazy adventure his mates and him would journey through next and he even liked the uncertainty of what subjects he would have to tackle next in his favorite classes. Which is why he couldn’t understand why he was surprised by the events unfolding now. His relationship with Y/N hadn’t even been official, yet he was stuck pondering over her recent actions instead of the notes laid out in front of him. He knew he hadn’t imagined the feelings that had been growing between the two of them and he had the image of intimate touches ingrained in his mind as proof of that. So, why? Why had she stopped looking at Remus like he held the stars in his hands? Why had she trained her sight on that lousy Ravenclaw instead? Why was she holding his hands in the halls, when the two of them had never even been so publicly affectionate? But most importantly, why was he so surprised by the uncertainty of it all?

A part of Remus - the part that resonated with his younger self most - knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew it was unlikely that any girl, especially a girl as captivating as Y/N, would have been interested in him for long. Not only was he singularly boring in his opinion, but he was a monster. The other part of Remus - the part he had spent years working on - couldn’t understand why she was suddenly acting like she forgot he existed. He knew they worked well together. He knew that he understood her in a way no one else had. He knew that he was perfect for her. Or at least he’d say he was. 

“What did that poor piece of parchment ever do to you, Moony?” A voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts and Remus’ eyes flickered down to the notes in front of him. He had been holding his inked up quill to the paper for so long it had created a hole that was getting bigger from the severity of his hold. Dropping the quill, Remus looked up to see Peter stood in the doorway. 

“Uh, must’ve zoned out,” Remus muttered, sending Peter a lackadaisical smile. “What are you lot up to?” 

“Headed to Hogsmeade. You sure you don’t wanna join, mate? I’m sure you’re not gonna do much good just tearing through your notes. Literally.” Remus ignored Peter’s poor attempt at a pun and considered his options. He really wasn’t doing much good sitting at his desk and he needed to get his mind off certain things. No better way to do that than with the three most troublesome boys. 

“Alright, yah,” Remus nodded his head at Peter who was frowning. “You’re right, Pete. No point in tearing through my notes.” Content with Remus’ validation, Peter led the two out of their dorm and down to the common room.

“YES! Prongs, we’ve got Moony on board!” 

—

Being at Hogsmeade during the start of the year always felt odd. Remus would argue that it was one of those things that only made sense during the holidays. He had gotten into many heated debates with James about whether Hogsmeade could be considered fun this early in the school year. James would start by explaining September was the holidays and Remus would remind him that Christmas wasn’t for another few months. But he didn’t feel like striking that kind of conversation today. Normally, he’d have Y/N to back him up. 

Remus entered The Three Broomsticks with his spirits a lot higher than they had been a half-hour ago. As much as he renounced being too sure about anything, he was certain he could never be bored when he was with his friends. He prayed nothing would put a damper on his mood, but the world didn’t work the way he wanted. He had heard her before he saw her. The familiar laugh had him looking over his shoulder and following Y/N’s figure from the door.

The Y/H/C haired girl was walking hand in hand with Mason Tomlinson as they looked for a seat in the corner of the establishment. As though she felt eyes on her, she turned to the table the boys sat at and waved kindly. Remus wanted to roll his eyes at her gesture but thought better of it. 

“I don’t understand when that even happened,” Sirius mumbled, his eyes still trained on Y/N.

“Apparently they were paired up for a project,” James shook his head slightly before turning to look back at his friends. “You’d think she’d tell her bloody cousin she was seeing someone, wouldn’t you?” Y/N hadn’t been seen by the group of boys as often as they usually did in the past few weeks and Remus could tell it was rubbing James the wrong way. Actually, all of them seemed annoyed by her absence. 

“Two weeks… I swear that’s how long the two have known each other,” Peter commented. “Remus, did she ever say anything about him - OUCH!”

All three boys were now staring at Remus with guilty expressions on their faces (except Peter, who seemed to also be holding his leg in pain). Remus simply shook his head and gave him a shrug in response. 

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius started and this time Remus didn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “I really did think the two of you were going to get together.” Remus froze, halting the way he was nervously pulling at his napkin under the table. He had expected pitying looks or impetus questions, but he hadn’t expected that. Remus hadn’t expected to be confronted with the exact thought that had been haunting him. When would he learn he really couldn’t expect shit? 

“No idea what you mean, mate,” Remus spoke, trying to appear much more nonchalant than he felt. “Haven’t even spoken to her in weeks. Why would we be together?” The three pairs of eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before Sirius began to nod. 

“Right… Well, boys, I think it's time for some more butterbeer.” Remus’ friends continued with their night, but all Remus could do was stare at the manifestation of his nightmares. Y/N had her elbow resting on the table in front of her and was running her hand up and down the length of Mason’s arm. From what Remus could see Mason's other arm was placed against her hip and he was leaning closer. Within moments Remus’ stomach was lurching forward as he watched Y/N’s lips meet with Mason’s to kiss him passionately. If it had been any other person he would’ve been gagging at the crude disregard of their surroundings, but at the current moment, it was as though he was stuck. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t vomit the sight away. He was stuck watching Y/N crush his heart into pieces without even lifting a finger. 

“Don’t stare, Remus,” James’ words could’ve been taken as a joke, but Remus knew why he was saying them. He didn’t want Remus hurting. 

“Merlin, I don’t understand what has gotten into her,” Sirius, seemingly not learning from his prior mistake, was looking at Y/N again. “That’s not like her, she doesn’t mouth fuck people in public.”

“Sirius!” James and Remus had yelled at the same time. 

“That’s so vulgar!”

“That’s my cousin!” 

“Oh please, Moony. Like you don’t have the mouth of a sailor. James, I do apologize for talking about your very innocent cousin that way, but there is no other way to explain whatever that is.” James smacked Sirius on the back of his head and the two began to argue amongst themselves, but Remus was too distracted to care about what they were saying.

Sirius was right. It wasn’t like Y/N to get into a relationship so fast and even more unlike her to be so publicly affectionate. But then again, he wondered how much of that was dependent on who was sitting beside her. Maybe she was only affectionate when it wasn’t him crowding the seat next to her. Did they even know Y/N? Did he know her? Remus thought back to the first time he had ever felt a sense of mutual understanding between the two. 

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual as a group of five 3rd years faced the welcoming fireplace. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, and Y/N had opted to stay at Hogwarts instead of going to Hogsmeade that weekend and were glad they had. Other than his friend group, Remus noted that the common room was empty which meant they could do anything without prying eyes. They seized the opportunity by playing Wizard Chess and munching on some leftover candy Y/N had from a previous Hogsmeade trip. 

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whined, as he pushed the table in front of him. “How? Again?” Remus just shrugged as he motioned for Peter to take Sirius’ spot across from him. They had all agreed they would have a tournament of sorts and whoever won would get to be the one who executed their next prank. This prank was especially exciting because it was going to be affecting anyone who was innocently spending time in the Slytherin common room next Thursday. 

“No way,” Peter tutted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not playing just to lose.”

“Peter, the rules were the winner plays the next contestant,” Remus argued. He knew he was undoubtedly the best at Wizarding Chess amongst the five of them and he took pride in any moments he could use that to his advantage. 

“Moons, just let me play Peter,” Sirius started. At Remus’ look of dissent, he continued, “Come on, do you even care about actually being the one that says the incantation?” Remus considered this. He didn’t actually care, but he did want to win. 

“No,” The voice came from the body next to him and Remus looked up to see Y/N shaking her head. “You can’t make the rules and then change them just because Remus is better than you.” 

“Shut up, you Hufflepuff,” James taunted. The Marauders had often told Y/N she would’ve been suitable for Hufflepuff because of how highly she valued fairness. Even if it was something as small as a game, she wanted to see the right thing done. Remus admired that. He figured if more people did that, the world would be a hell of a better place. 

“Eh, let ‘em play. They won’t let me hear the end of it once I win,” Remus uprooted from his spot on the floor and took a seat next to Y/N. The pair sat back as they watched their friends banter and laugh amongst themselves. Remus had only known the lot of them for three years, but he knew that moments like these would be life-altering for him. He had come a long way from the glum eleven-year-old who thought he deserved to be alone. He still battled with whether he deserved the love he received, but he was slowly learning he did. And the only reason he was ever able to get this far in that journey was because of the four smiling idiots around him. 

When James began to chase Peter around the common room, Remus turned his face to the side just as Y/N did and the two of them just smiled at each other. It was like they were both thinking the same things, but Remus had no way of knowing. Y/N and he had always been friends, but they rarely spent time alone the way he did with Sirius and the way she did with James. It wasn’t weird, it was just the dynamic of their group. But at that moment, as they laughed with each other, he felt like he had known her for years. He felt like she was agreeing with him on how much these people meant to both of them. He was probably projecting, but it made him feel warm with comfort. At the time he didn’t know that she would soon grow to be one of the closest friends he’d ever have, but he found solace in that random second of certain uncertainty.  

tiny little taglist: @kitkatkl​ 

[salazarslytherin]

player, heartbreaker (wolfstar)

requested: nope! written for @acosmis-t ’s writing challenge! send in your own request here

summary: in which sirius breaks remus’ heart- not for the first time, but definitely the last.

prompts: 6. “i love you.”, “no you don’t” 8. “how was i such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?” 13. “maybe they were right. you never did change.”

cw/tw: angst, cheating, just tears, and a whole lot of em

word count: 2.4k

🃛 masterlist!

a/n: if you enjoyed this oneshot please consider reblogging and/or dropping me a follow! it’ll help me out a lot :)

I love you.

Those three words meant so much to Remus. Shunned by so many throughout his life, coming to Hogwarts and feeling the warm embrace of friendship and the overwhelming amounts of love that came with it made him lightheaded, feeling as if he were floating on air.

Those three words had made Remus excuse so much. Times he’d gotten in trouble with McGonagall because of a stupid prank Sirius had pulled and blamed on him.

“She’ll pull me out of quidditch for this! You’re the perfect student, she’ll let you off the hook! I love you Moony!”

Remus wasn’t let off the hook, but he never held it against Sirius.

Dangerous and idiotic pranks were forgiven- like the Full Moon Incident with Snape in fifth year. The Black heir had grovelled and apologised, spending many nights on his knees, begging for Remus’ forgiveness.

“Moony I’m so sorry, I was just, infuriated by the sheer audacity of Snivellus. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I love you, and I would do anything to prove to you that I can make it up to you.”

It took another full moon for Remus to forgive him, but he never forgot the heartbreak and betrayal that the incident had brought him.

Yet, he didn’t hold it against him. Because it was Sirius Black.

The first boy to show him friendship, the first boy to show him affection, the first boy to show him love.

⚔︎.

Not long after the Incident, the love between the two had blossomed- growing from a platonic, brotherly love to one that was more complicated.

One was the Prince of Gryffindor; the biggest player and heartbreaker that Hogwarts had seen in decades. Flirting and fucking girls and boys alike, Sirius Black left behind him a trail of tears and heartbreak. Yet he was never resented for it, because that’s just who he was.

Sirius Black, the serial heartbreaker.

The other was quiet. The most unassuming member of the Marauders- studious and always willing to help others regardless of house and year. A Werewolf littered with scars, but the gentlest person you could ever meet. Remus Lupin was the kindest soul you could find, but vicious when you needed him to be. Although quiet, he was charming and outgoing, the kind of person you could have a beer with, but also come to for your troubles.

Remus Lupin, the kindest boy at Hogwarts.

The two were best friends, but perhaps there was always a little bit more.

Sirius was openly bisexual, flamboyant and flaunting of his sexuality, he flirted with anyone and everyone.

Rumour has it he tried to flirt Filch out of detention once.

Remus was gay, but only told others when asked. He didn’t think his sexuality was anyone’s business, perhaps except his and his partner’s only.

As a result of these two polar opposites that were too similar for their own good, there was always an underlying sense of attraction. Remus would watch Sirius from behind a book, smiling at his jokes, laughing at his antics.

Sirius always admired Remus’ scars, equating them with bravery and beauty.

One day, the attraction had just clicked, and the words “I love you Moony” became “I’m in love with you, Moony.”

The stolen glances turned into shared, lingering looks in classes after a make-out session in an alcove- Remus turning red when he realised he was wearing Sirius’ shirt instead of his own, one that was just a tad bit too small for the Werewolf, then vermillion when someone pointed out a hickey Sirius had left on his neck.

Nights were no longer lonely– neither of the two was plagued with nightmares anymore as, much like the year before, many nights were spent with Sirius on his knees- albeit under very, very different circumstances.

⚔︎.

Not long after they had gotten together, Gryffindor won yet another quidditch match against Slytherin, and a Marauders party had exploded in the Common Room. Students from every house, save for Slytherin, partied the night away with bottles of firewhiskey and cake from the house elves, which ended up more on people’s faces than in their mouths.

Remus, not one to “party hard” like Sirius or James, found himself sitting on the window seat, chatting with passersby, sipping on a cup of firewhiskey while watching his friends on the dance floor.

“Hey there Lupin. Not out there with the rest of your marauders?”

Lily sat herself down next to Remus, clutching her own firewhiskey as she watched her boyfriend dance with Remus’, Peter bouncing awkwardly between the two.

“Not really feeling up for it. Why aren’t you out there yourself? Thought you’d be out dancing with James, you two seem awfully close these days.”

A blush graced Lily’s face, coughing slightly to cover her embarrassment as she turned to face her fellow prefect.

“Well, you and Black seem awfully close yourselves. Are you actually dating him?”

From anyone else, Remus would’ve thought the question rude and blunt, intrusive, even. But over the years, he began counting Lily Evans a friend almost as close as the Marauders, so he shrugged, and let it slide.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

The redhead shrugged, looking out onto the dance floor where a Ravenclaw had grabbed onto Sirius, grinding onto his front as the Gryffindor seemed to welcome him, holding his hips close to his own, the pair lost in the music.

“I just worry about you, Remus. I know you two are best friends, and you should always trust the people you’re with, but, we all know what Black’s like. I don’t want to see you become one of the ones he leaves behind.”

Remus clenched his jaw at the sight of Nathan Sulzer grinding on his boyfriend, his heart clenching slightly as Sirius did nothing to stop him.

“I’ll be fine Lily.”

James wandered towards the two of them, pressing a kiss to Lily’s lips as he shoved Remus lightly on the shoulder.

“Alright, Moony?”

Remus felt his heart break slightly as Nathan peppered kisses on Sirius’ neck, the same spots he had kissed that very morning before the quidditch match. James followed the werewolf’s gaze as he failed to reply, his own fist clenching in response.

“Merlin Moony, I’m so sorry. I swear I thought he would’ve changed for you. I love that man but I swear he can be so thick somedays.”

Remus shook his head, feeling tears well up that he willed away, putting down the cup and pushing himself off the seat.

“It’s fine. I’m going to head upstairs first. G’night you two.”

“I love you Moony.”

“Love you too Prongs. Night Lil.”

⚔︎.

That was not the night Sirius Black broke Remus Lupin’s heart for the last time. Later that night, the beater had come up, small hickeys staining his neck and collar overturned as he begged Remus for his forgiveness.

“I was so drunk baby I didn’t even realise what he was doing. Just celebrating, I didn’t even know who I was dancing with! I love you so much Re I’m so sorry. It will never happen again.”

Remus forgave him. He always did.

After all, this was Sirius Black he was faced with.

And if we know anything, it’s that Remus Lupin always forgave Sirius Black.

Later that week, when Nathan Sulzer came to Remus to ask for help with a transfiguration essay, he merely turned and walked away, causing Nathan to wonder what he’d done to earn the ire of the kindest boy in Hogwarts.

⚔︎.

It was the last day of exams in sixth year. Remus and Peter, being the only ones in the Marauders to take NEWT level Ancient Runes, were the last to finish their exams. Excitedly discussing what was to come in the summer as well as the final weeks of school, the two made their way back to Gryffindor tower.

“So what are you doing over the summer Wormy? Have your parents settled on a vacation spot yet, or are you going to finally stay around for once?”

Peter smiled softly, shrugging as he clutched his books to his chest.

“I’m not really sure, but I think we should be around for the last few weeks. You’re staying with Prongs and Padfoot for a while, right? I think I’ll probably be able to join you if you’re still there by the time I get-”

The pair’s conversation was cut short as they ascended the stairs to their dorm, hearing a piercing feminine moan coming from their room.

“Merlin, never pegged Lily for the vocal type.”

Peter frowned, uncomfortable.

“Clearly you’ve not been around the Potter household when she stays with Prongs during Christmas. ”

Shuddering, their soft laughter was cut short as footsteps thundered up the stairs behind them, muscular arms landing on the two Marauders’ shoulders.

“Alright, lads! Finally finished with your exams?”

James Fleamont Potter stood behind his two fellow Marauders in all his glory, making the boys freeze in their actions.

“I- you-”

Remus’ mind was moving a mile a minute, the reality clocking in but he refused to admit it. This had to be some sort of a sick prank.

“If you’re out here, then who’s that in there having sex with Lily?!”

Peter pointed at the door, the confusion and adrenaline running through the three boys making them miss the soft moan of ‘Sirius’ coming from behind the doors.

“What?! Nobody better be having sex with my Lily!”

The heavy wooden doors flew open as James kicked it with all his might, revealing Emmeline Vance naked and on top of the one and only, Sirius Black.

“Padfoot?!” emerged out of Peter’s mouth at the same time as the words “That’s not Lily!” came from James’, before reality dawned upon the two, turning to face the werewolf.

“Get out.”

“Moony I-”

For the first time in a long time, Remus felt a fire rise in his stomach, his temper snapping as he threw his books on the ground.

“All of you, get out!”

The werewolf’s head snapped up at the naked boy on the bed, who was stealing fearful glances at the girl quickly redressing next to him.

“Except you, Black.”

⚔︎.

Sirius had awkwardly finished putting on his clothes as Remus stood beside his own bed, feeling nothing, his previous anger had sizzled out and left him hollow.

“Moony I-”

“I don’t want to hear you speak. I don’t, I just,”

A memory flashed by Remus’ mind, that party after Gryffindor’s first win of the year. Lily’s words echoing in his mind: we all know what Black’s like.

“Maybe they were right. You never did change.”

A cold laugh emerged from the prefect’s lips, looking up at the ceiling he’d become so familiar with over the past year. The one he’d studied night after night with Sirius in his arms, the one he’d memorised when he wondered whether he did anything wrong when Sirius apologised to him for this thing or that, breaking his heart bit by bit, day by day.

“How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, of all people, could ever love me? Sirius Black, prince of Gryffindor. The biggest player Hogwarts has ever seen, the biggest heartbreaker there’s ever been!”

Remus continued laughing his emotionless laugh, one that made Sirius wince and shudder. It was so unlike him, so hollow, so cruel.

Nothing like his Remus.

“Of course I love you Moony. I love you.”

Sirius made his way over to Remus, his calloused hands reaching out towards Remus’ scarred ones.

“No you don’t.”

Remus’ hand was enveloped for a mere second, the familiar warmth begging him to stay before his sinking heart reminded him of the hurt he was pushed under by those same hands, and ripped himself away.

“If you loved me, you would never have done this. If you loved me, you’d never have made me doubt whether you really wanted to be with me. If you’d loved me,”

Remus looked at Sirius for the first time since James and Peter left the room. As their eyes met, Remus felt the tears welling in the grey eyes he loved so dearly pulling at his heartstrings, clenching his jaw before continuing, willing his own tears not to fall.

“We wouldn’t be here. I was in love with you, but you were in love with the idea of me. The chase, the excitement of a relationship you couldn’t flaunt all across the halls.”

Muted ‘no’s and soundless protests were made as Sirius fell to his knees in front of Remus for the umpteenth time that year, but this time out of desperation, an attempt to salvage something that couldn’t be salvaged.

“But you got tired, and you found the excitement in sneaking around with others. Pushing the boundaries to see how far you could get without being caught.”

Tears fell freely from Sirius’ eyes now, clutching onto Remus’ trousers as he cried out.

“That’s not it. Please Re, I love you, I love you so much. You’re everything for me, my home, my only. Please don’t do this.”

Remus’ own eyes flew shut, but he continued, tears escaping as rapidly as the words did.

“And now you’ve gotten caught. I hope it was worth it, because I’m done forgiving you. I’m just so, so done. I’m tired of not being good enough for you, I’m tired of second guessing myself and wondering why you end up in other people’s arms.”

Sirius shook his head fervently, incoherent words and sobs wracked from his throat as he hugged Remus’ legs with more strength than he knew he had, shaking his head at the werewolf’s words.

“You know, I would’ve done anything for you. I forgave you each and every time you crawled back to me. No matter how many times you broke my heart, I turned to putty in your hands every time you told me ‘I love you’.”

Remus’ hands landed on the boy’s shoulders for the last time, a motion so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time, pulling him away. He took Sirius’ chin into his hand, tilting his head up to meet his tearfully hopeful eyes.

“I love you Remus.”

Desperation dripped from the animagus' voice, his eyes searching Remus' face for one last bit of mercy, one last "I love you".

“I love you Sirius. But I don’t want to love you any longer.”

[prfctethereal]

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one 

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Redemption Never Came

Prompt: was rereading Tactical Retreat and I think it may just be time for that *conversation* with patton. he must have some kind of perspective here! I love your writing so much like you are an icon when it comes to writing- like you've taught me so much! <3!!

Thank you for the req! Also: 

it is CHECK POINT TIME MY DUDES~

unclench your jaw roll them shoulders back drink something go to the bathroom eat something look away from the screen for three goddamn CONSECUTIVE seconds

okay cool now you may proceed love you very much

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussion of self-harm, nothing explicit

Pairings: focus on royality, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 4690

Redemption: the act of redeeming or the condition of having been redeemed.

Redemption: deliverance.

* * *

Roman and Patton talk.

“Pat, let’s go get L something to drink.”

 “But—I—“

 “It’s too much for him, Pat,” Virgil says softly, “with all of us here, he’s getting overwhelmed. Let’s go and then we’ll come back, yeah?”

 “O-okay.”

 Patton grips the counter as Virgil opens the cupboard. His glasses threaten to slide off the end of his nose. He can’t let go. He’ll fall.

 “Pop Star?” Virgil’s hand appears on his shoulder. “Pop Star, breathe, come on.”

 He manages to swallow, ducking his head to try and follow Virgil’s instructions. The hand stays on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles.

 “That’s it, Pop Star, just breathe, you’re okay.”

 Something twists in his chest.

 “I know,” Patton grinds out, “I know I’m okay.”

 Logan is the one who isn’t okay right now. And that—is that his fault too?

 “Hey, uh uh.”

 Patton frowns, looking up as Virgil tugs on his sleeve. Virgil’s brow is furrowed as he stares down at him.

 “Don’t do that,” Virgil chides gently, “don’t blame yourself for this.”

 “But I didn’t notice—“

 “Neither did the rest of us,” Virgil breaks in, forcing the glass into Patton’s hand so he can fill it up, “except for Remus. And Remus took a long time too.”

 Patton’s tongue swells.

 “It’s not on you,” comes more reassurance, and doesn’t it feel weird, “we’re all to blame here.”

 “We should’ve known,” he mutters, focusing on not spilling the water all over the kitchen.

 “Maybe. But we didn’t. And we can’t change that. We just gotta focus on what we can do now.”

 “I know that,” Patton grumbles, “I’ve said that to you guys more times than I can count, why—why am I struggling with this?”

 “You just found out that someone very close to you is hurting themselves,” Virgil says, “you’re upset.”

 “I know that too!”

 “Uh-huh, then you know that it makes sense that you’re not processing things as easily as you normally would.”

 He knows that too. Patton sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

 “He ate some at dinner, he should be alright, let’s just get him the water.”

 “Great.” Virgil glances around. “We should probably get, uh…other stuff too.”

 Right.

 Right.

 Before they can leave, however, Janus and Remus appear, dark looks on their faces. Patton’s heart sinks.

 “What’s wrong? Do we need the first aid kit?”

 “He’s got one in his room, doesn’t he?”

 Janus nods. But he’s not looking at either of them. Patton frowns, looking over at Remus, who looks about two seconds from smashing apart the fridge.

 “…kiddos?”

 Remus snarls.

 Virgil strides forward and takes Remus under one arm, bending close to mutter in his ear. As Patton watches, some of the tension goes out of Remus’s shoulders and he lets out a slow breath. He turns to Janus.

 “Is Roman still…with him?”

 Janus nods sharply. Something twists his mouth.

 “Janus, what happened?”

 “Roman is taking care of him,” Janus says quietly, his voice even, “we’re…here to check on you two.”

 Patton frowns. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

 “Correct.”

 “…so tell me?”

 Janus glances up at Remus. Remus turns away from Virgil, obviously just having been asked a similar question, and shakes his head firmly. Janus looks back at Patton apologetically.

 “Not mine to tell.”

 “Remus?”

 “No.”

 The dark weight in Patton’s chest expands. Only when Janus calls his name quietly does he realize he’s trying valiantly to break the glass in his hands. He sets it quickly down on the counter and wraps his arms around himself.

 “Sorry.”

 “You’re upset,” Janus mumbles, “we all are.”

 “So what’s going on?”

 Janus sighs. “Our resident nerd appears to be…trapping himself in logical paradoxes and attempting to resolve them in…unique ways.”

 “Let’s never call it that again,” Virgil growls. Janus nods in agreement. “What do we do?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Lie.” Virgil scoffs when Janus looks up at him incredulously. “Come on, dude, I lived with you.”

 “I’m not going to tell you.”

 “Why the fuck not?”

 “Because it’s not my secret to tell,” Janus snaps, wincing at himself a moment later. Virgil waves him off. “Logan deserves that privacy.”

 “Yeah, ‘cause you two were so concerned about privacy like…half an hour ago.”

 “Yes, and that couldn’t be because the priorities of that situation were entirely different.”

 “Enough,” Patton says firmly. “This is the opposite of what we should be doing right now.”

 He picks up the glass of water.

 “Virgil, where are the weighted blankets?”

 “In the hall closet. I can—“

 “I’ll come with you.”

 Janus follows Virgil back up the stairs. Patton takes another deep breath and looks over at Remus. Remus doesn’t meet his gaze.

 “...Remus?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Come with me back to Logan’s room?”

 “Sure.” Remus follows a few steps behind. Patton can feel his gaze almost boring through his back. “Don’t spill the water.”

 “I won’t.”

 They arrive at the door and wait, listening for Janus and Virgil down the hall. Patton turns to see if they could be coming the other way only for Remus’s piercing stare to freeze him.

 “What?”

 Remus tilts his head and remains silent.

 “Remus, what are you doing? Is there something—what’s wrong?”

 “I’m trying to figure something out,” Remus says and the softness of his voice sends a chill down Patton’s spine, “and what I should do about it.”

 Patton swallows. “Remus, whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

 “Hmm.”

 Before Patton can answer whatever just happened, Janus and Virgil appear, carrying the weighted blankets. Patton spares one more look at Remus before reaching out to gently knock on the door.

 It’s a little bit of a blur after that. They walk in to see Roman cupping Logan’s face in his hands, having changed him into a soft shirt and bandaging his legs. Patton crouches down to help Logan drink and wraps him up in a protective cuddle as soon as Logan says it’s okay.

 They sit there like that for a while, long enough for both of Patton’s legs to fall asleep and not long enough for the ache in his chest to dull. Logan’s sobs trail off into Roman’s shoulder as he strokes his hand through his hair, still murmuring softly. He’s not sure when he gets the courage to reach and gently ask Logan if he can take his glasses off, but if the sleepy way Logan butts his head against his hand, it’s been a while. Poor Logan is exhausted, all but falling asleep on Roman. They get him into bed slowly, bit by bit, leaving just as gradually. Roman is the last one to leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.

 Patton makes his way to his room and goes through his getting-ready-for-bed process on autopilot. His walls are grayer than normal, the sun long since set, leaving the room dark and muted. He climbs beneath the covers, sets his glasses on the nightstand, and turns off the lamp.

 The dark feeling from earlier finally makes it to his head.

 How did he never notice?

 It’s not like Logan was a master at hiding the fact that he has feelings, surely the amount of times his voice softens when addressing them is proof enough on its own. And surely they all knew that he denies it so often that it’s not a question of how he feels about that.

 So why did he never notice that it wouldn’t be hard for Logan to decide that he needed to get rid of them, at any cost?

 He turns over in bed, burying his face in a pillow.

 Is that why Remus was mad?

 Remus being mad at him is not a comfortable situation. Remus is so uncaring about so many things—not that the kiddo doesn’t care! He absolutely cares about some things, his work, the others, Roman, goodness, so much—but when it comes to emotions and responses and good versus bad, well, Remus’s standpoint is normally…no.

 So why is Remus mad? Because he wasn’t doing his job and taking care of Logan? Well, Patton’s mad at himself for that too, but…

 He frowns, turning back over and staring at a spot on the wall.

 That doesn’t feel like that’s why Remus is mad. If Remus were mad at him for not taking care of Logan, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call him out on it. He would’ve cussed him out right there in the kitchen, not caring about what Virgil or Janus would’ve said. It would’ve been much harder for Virgil to calm him down—presumably, even though Virgil is very good at his job—and that certainly wouldn’t explain why Janus was acting strange, too.

 Janus is keeping something from him. Nothing new there, but this…this is different. He can feel it. Normally Janus would deny that he was hiding a secret, but he insisted that it wasn’t his to tell and…seemed to look to Remus to get that confirmation?

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Roman.

 Something’s wrong with Roman.

 Patton’s chest grows cold and he hunches over his blankets, eyes going wide.

 Roman is so good at helping. Roman is so good at helping. Patton can’t remember the number of times he’s walked in on Roman helping one of the others or Roman walking in on him helping someone else and immediately offering to help too. Letting Roman help Logan was the right choice, especially when Patton was already too upset to be useful. But…but…

 If Remus and Janus came downstairs to ‘check up on’ him and Virgil, something must’ve happened, and Roman—oh, Roman—

 Patton frowns.

 Logan is hurt. Very, very badly. Roman is helping him. But now…is Roman hurt too?

 What happened to Roman?

 Patton shuts his eyes and buries his face in the blankets again, trying valiantly to suppress a whine.

 Logan is hurt and they need to take care of him and they know that the only way they’re going to help Logan is if he tells them what he needs.

 Logan is talking to Roman and Janus and Remus. That’s good. Maybe he’ll talk to Patton too, then they could all help.

 But with Roman…

 Patton doesn’t know what’s going on. He goes to sleep and wakes up and still doesn’t know.

 He knows how to help Logan. Logan talks to them and tells them things now, or he’ll come seek them out, after that night, just to sit and be and make sure he’s not left alone in his room. He sits down with Patton one day and explains what’s been happening. Patton wells up, because of course, he’ll help, nothing’s wrong with Logan, he’s doing wonderfully, and yes, he can always come get reassurances if he needs them.

 That’s what Logan needs from Patton.

 He doesn’t know what Roman needs.

 At least…not until Remus knocks on his door and asks him to come to the Imagination.

 There’s a house. A very simple house. Remus knocks on the door and Roman’s voice calls from inside. Remus pushes open the door and ushers Patton inside.

 Roman sits at the table and stands when Patton walks in. He smiles softly and nods to Remus in thanks. Remus nods back, gives Patton a look that says he’s not going very far, and shuts the door behind him.

 “Hey, Padre,” Roman says softly, “come sit?”

 Patton sits. Roman doesn’t meet his eyes, staring at a spot on the floor. Patton swallows.

 “Roman?”

 “Hmm?”

 “Are you…okay?”

 Roman laughs under his breath. “No, Patton, I’m not.”

 Patton knew the answer to that. It still hurt.

 “Can I help?”

 “I don’t know.” Roman finally looks up at him and the second he does part of Patton wishes he’d look away again. “But I need to talk to you about that.”

 “M-me?”

 “Yeah, Patton. You—“ Roman sighs— “you and I have a lot to talk about, I think.”

 Oh. It’s this conversation.

 “Yeah,” Roman murmurs, “are you—do you think you can have it now?”

 Does he?

 “…yeah,” Patton says after a moment, “yeah, I’m ready.”

 “Good.”

 Patton sits up a little taller in the chair and folds his hands in his lap. Roman catches it and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

 “You don’t have to do that, Patton.”

 Patton tilts his head. “What?”

 Roman waves a hand at him. “That. Sit up straight like I’m about to tell you off.”

 “…aren’t you?”

 “No. And even if I was, you don’t have to do that.” Something darker flitters across his expression. “Learned that recently.”

 Memories of every time Roman’s stood up taller when someone is talking to him flash across Patton’s mind. Something in his gut twists. But he makes an effort to speak anyway.

 “But you…” he swallows, “you’re in charge right now.”

 “I don’t want to be.” Roman holds up a hand to stop him. “That doesn’t mean you have to be in charge either. This is a conversation, Patton, at least it has to be if we’re going to do anything, which means equal footing. No one’s in charge, no one has more power than anyone else.”

 Oh. Okay. Patton takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, making an effort to relax into the chair.

 “Thank you.”

 Silence. Roman’s back to staring at the ground. Something’s coming. Something big is coming and Patton doesn’t know if he can handle what it is.

 As it turns out, he was right.

 “I self harm too.”

 A thunderclap. Patton’s breath catches in his throat and he only knows he’s gasped by the way his throat hurts.

 “Oh, kiddo, I’m—“

 “Don’t,” Roman says softly, too soft, why does he sound this calm right now?— “let me finish, please.”

 Patton slams his mouth shut. Roman doesn’t look up at him.

 “I self-harm for a different reason than Logan does,” he continues, “but we both do it because we think it’s right.”

 His gut twists again.

 “I’m Thomas’s hopes and dreams,” Roman continues, “I’m his Ego. I want what he wants and I’m supposed to help him get it.”

 One of Roman’s hands twitches.

 “But my wants aren’t important. Thomas’s wants are important. I’m supposed to be happy with what Thomas wants—with wanting what Thomas wants—and what I want doesn’t make Thomas happy.”

 He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

 “What Thomas wants—what the rest of you want—is for me to play the role. I am the Ego, I am arrogant, I am cocky, I am loud, I am annoying. I am soft enough to cave to your demands and to be poked and prodded in the right direction until I finally do what Thomas wants. I’m not supposed to want for myself, I’m supposed to want for Thomas, and when I don’t—“

 He cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again.

 “When I don’t, I am rejected. I am only wanted if I can produce work good enough for Thomas, if I act right, if I want what Thomas wants. To do that, I have to play the role. I have to feel the things I need to feel to do the work. A-and to do that, I need to…” he swallows again, “remind myself.”

 Somewhere, far away, something crows.

 “There’s no sainthood in satisfaction. Selfless is safe. Whenever I want something, I’m supposed to give it up to make Thomas happy. That’s what’s important. That’s why I do it.”

 Patton feels sick.

 Not just because what Roman is saying is enough to tear his heart out and leave him a sobbing, broken mess, but because he knows where most of it came from.

 “R-Roman,” he manages when Roman comes to the end of his speech, “oh, Roman, I’m so—I’m so sorry.”

 Roman huffs a laugh. “I know you are, Patton.”

 No. No, no, no, he remembers that tone of voice. Remembers Roman sinking out a moment later, his face as horribly resigned as it is now.

 Remembers the question he asked Janus at the end of that awful, awful day.

 “Do you think there's a limit on how many times someone can say sorry before you have to admit that they're just bad for you?”

 Roman huffs again. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask to judge when someone’s bad for you.”

 Oh.

 The thing in Patton’s gut twists again.

 “What can I do,” he mumbles, “what do I do to make this better?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “You can tell me,” he pleads, “tell me what to do and I’ll—“

 “No.”

 “But, Roman—“

 “No, Patton,” Roman says again, “I can’t tell you what to do. One because I don’t know what would make this better, and two—“

 He cuts himself off as he scrubs his hands over his face.

 “Two, because I know what will happen if I try.”

 “…what?”

 “I’ll give in. Because I always give in,” he mutters sardonically, “because seeing you upset hurts, more than pretty much anything else, and it doesn’t matter what I have to do to make you stop hurting.”

 Patton’s chest throbs.

 “So I can’t tell you what to do,” Roman finishes, “because it’ll be a lie.”

 And Patton knows he’s right.

 Because the sight of Roman, right now, is enough to make him want to cave to just about anything to see him be alright again.

 “..can I hug you?”

 “No,” Roman whispers, “for the same reason.”

 Patton aches.

 “Why—“ he swallows and tries again— “why can’t we do this? Why can’t we help each other?”

 “Because we care too much,” Roman says softly, “we care too much about each other and too little about ourselves.”

 Something in his tone darkens.

 “…or at least we think we do.”

 Cold. Patton is cold now. Colder than ice. It burns.

 “God, Patton, do you even know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”

 Roman’s anger, sudden and fiery, burns straight into Patton’s chest, muting him as Roman’s fist tightens in his lap. His glare threatens to scorch a hole in the floor.

 “I gave up everything for you, just to make you happy, I gave up the callback, I gave up my songs, I gave up my entire worldview for you, and you—you—“

 He jams his knuckle into his mouth for a moment and bites. Hard.

 Patton can’t even make a noise of protest.

 “I was never good enough for you, Patton,” Roman says after a moment, “there was always something else I needed to fix, something else I was doing wrong, something else I had to apologize for. And then you just stood there. After everything I’d ever done for you, you didn’t even stand up for me. You just looked at me like I should’ve known it was coming. That I…deserved it.”

 Guilt roils in Patton’s gut, pressing against his stomach, his throat, his mouth, his head, but one word lingers at the tip of his tongue.

 “…worldview?”

 Like someone flipping a light switch, Roman’s expression clicks into a softer fury. He sits back in the chair and for a moment, he looks as if he’s about to reminisce about something pleasant. What comes out of his mouth is anything but.

 “I wasn’t just afraid of Janus being accepted meaning I wasn’t,” he murmurs, voice far too gentle, “I was afraid because I remembered the last time the two of you agreed on something.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Growing up and seeing messages about one man, one woman.

 Growing up believing that people who didn’t feel that love were destined for something awful.

 Growing up seeing the isolation, the fear, the hatred, the violence.

 Watching Roman start to fantasize about boys.

 He remembers.

 He remembers Deceit—because he was only Deceit then—coming to him and telling him that under no circumstances can they ever act on these feelings. He remembers telling Deceit that they aren’t having these feelings, that they wouldn’t have those feelings, because they were wrong and Thomas was not wrong and so they would stop.

 He remembers the two of them hounding poor Roman about daydreaming about boys, wanting boys, wanting to make Thomas happy by imagining a future with a boy.

 Never mind that it wasn’t wrong.

 Never mind that it made Thomas miserable.

 Never mind that it was Patton that had the feelings first and Roman was just following Patton’s lead.

 Roman just nods.

 Patton opens his mouth to try and say something, anything, but he can’t. The guilt has eaten away his tongue.

 “But I can’t blame you for everything,” Roman says instead, still not looking at Patton—has he looked at him since he sat down?— “I was the one who looked at you as the unquestionable pillar of authority. I was the one who shoved that onto you when you didn’t ask for it. I was the one who made those choices. I’m as much to blame for this as you are.”

 “No.” Patton shakes his head firmly. “No, Roman, you’re not.”

 He takes a deep breath.

 “I...have a lot of influence over Thomas. I have a lot to do with how he reacts to things, how he sees the world and how we determine how to respond to it.” He sneaks a glance at Roman, whose gaze is still turned away. He tried to pretend that doesn’t hurt as much as it does. “And if I remember correctly...you tried to do something once to make me and Thomas happy because you wanted it too, and we...we told you off for it.”

 “With...?”

 Patton nods. “With...him. And I remember you refusing to take the wheel after that.”

 “I did,” Roman says softly, “because I realized I truly didn’t know how to make you—any of you—happy.”

 “I put myself in a position of authority as much as anyone else did,” Patton says, the tears—finally, he was wondering when they were going to show up—start to roll down his cheeks, “you’re not to blame for wanting to follow that, especially when I—when I told you that it was the right thing to do.”

 His glasses start to fog. He takes them off shakily and wipes them on his shirt.

 “But I’m done with that.” He puts them back on firmly. “I’m gonna figure out how to do this right, I promise, I’ll—I’ll redeem myself, I’ll be a good person.”

 Instead of Roman smiling softly and saying he looks forward to it, or Roman saying he doesn’t have to, or even Roman glaring at him and saying he’d like to see him try, Roman just huffs.

 “I think we need to get rid of the whole redemption arc thing too.”

 What?

 What?

 “What?”

 “It’s—“ Roman waves his hand— “it’s you saying you need to what, throw yourself at our feet? Repent? Atone for whatever wrongs you’ve done so we’ll welcome you back with open arms?”

 Patton nods in confusion. “So you’ll forgive me. So I can be good.”

 “Okay, but why is forgiveness a necessity for you to be good?”

 A pause.

 “Like, yes, working out how to stop doing bad things is something that I get, but why—why do we—why is forgiveness a crucial part of that?”

 “Because I’ve hurt you, and if I’m going to make it up to you—“

 “But that’s giving me power I didn’t ask for!”

 Roman pinches the bridge of his nose.

 “Look, forgiveness—in this case—is me granting your salvation, or something, or passing a judgment that absolves you of guilt, saying that you showed that you’ve changed and I judge you and then I agree that you’re enough better than you were, right?”

 He nods.

 “I don’t have that power! What gives me the right to sit there and say I have final say in whether or not you’re a good person? I’m not morally infallible! I’m not morally impartial! I’m not even Morality!”

 Roman throws his hands up and barks out a laugh.

 “And the idea that I could?” He shakes his head. “I have enough problems to worry about with that.”

 Patton’s eyes widen.

 He’s…he’s right.

 Goodness, he’s right.

 “B-but…” he swallows another wave of tears, “will you…you won’t love me if you don’t forgive me.”

 “Who told you that? Never mind,” Roman says, holding up a hand, “I know the answer to that.”

 He takes another deep breath.

 “Forgiveness and love are not the same thing, Patton,” he says softly, “I don’t have to forgive you to love you. I can love someone without forgiving every single wrong thing that they’ve done.”

 “You can?”

 “Virgil has hurt you. Logan has hurt you. Remus has hurt you. Janus has hurt you. I’ve hurt you.” Roman pauses. “Do you still love us?”

 “Yes,” he says immediately, “of course I do.”

 “There you go, then.”

 “But—“ he blinks to try and clear away the tears— “but what—if I’m a bad person—“

 “I never said that.”

 “—but bad people don’t deserve—“

 “Patton,” Roman cuts in sharply, “forgiveness and goodness aren’t the same either. I don’t need to forgive you to be a good person. Just because someone doesn’t forgive you doesn’t make you a bad person.”

 He softens.

 “And being a bad person isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

 “…what?”

 “What is courage?”

 Patton blinks.

 “What is courage,” Roman repeats, “tell me?”

 “It’s, um, bravery.”

 “Does that mean never being afraid, ever?”

 “N-no, it can mean being afraid and doing it anyway, because the reason you’re doing it is stronger than your fear.”

 “Then perhaps,” Roman says softly, “being a good person isn’t the absence of bad things, but choosing to do good things, over and over and over again.”

 The dark thing twists one more time.

 “So no, Patton,” Roman finishes, his eyes closing, “you don’t need to redeem yourself. You don’t need me to forgive you. And you’re not a bad person.”

 “How—“ he swallows— “how did this turn into you comforting me?”

 “Because that’s how this works, Patton.”

 “Not anymore it’s not.” Patton glares through the tears. “You did so well, Roman, right now, you told me everything and you didn’t give in, even when it was really hard for you and I know it was.”

 Roman is quiet.

 “You stood up to me and you stuck to your points, you let yourself get angry and you told me what you thought.” He swallows. “That was hard and so brave and I’m so proud of you.”

 He blinks furiously again.

 “I know you may not be a big fan of the word ‘deserve’—“ Roman huffs— “but you deserve to know that. That I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

 “It’s funny,” Roman says, his voice strangled, “but for all my talk about you not needing my forgiveness, I…I—“

 Patton tears his glasses off to wipe frantically at his eyes and jam them back on.

 Oh.

 Oh, Roman…

 Roman is crying too. His face is shining, wet with tears.

 “…you know I’ve forgiven you already.”

 The dark thing in Patton’s chest shatters.

 “Can we be done,” he pleads, already reaching across the table, “can we be done, can I hug you now, please?”

 Roman looks at him.

 For the first time since sitting down, Roman looks at him.

 “…please?”

 There isn’t a word for the noise that tears itself out of Patton’s throat as he rushes around the table and just about tackles Roman into a hug. They fall to the ground, thankfully onto something soft, their arms wrapped too tightly around each other to tell who’s who. They’re both sobbing, apologies, promises, reassurances, everything, anything, words fumbling over and over each other until it’s just noise.

 It won’t be easy.

 It isn’t easy.

 But it’s okay.

 It’ll be okay.

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