#I thought far too long about remus being able to see the future okay

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Summary: Virgil’s entire job is to protect Thomas, and he takes that job very seriously.  The core sides might argue too seriously.  The core sides don’t know that there are actual dangerous sides he needs to protect Thomas from.  But there’s another side he needs to protect too.  He used to be able to count on help from Janus, who did the job without even knowing it back when he still lived with them.  But now Virgil and Remus are alone, and they have to look out for each other, which means the last thing that Virgil should do is leave his brother by himself.

Too bad it’s not exactly his choice.

Author’s Note: Hey, read the trigger warnings for this one.  Not everything comes up in every chapter, but when it does, I’m not messing around.  Please be very careful with this one if the warnings are something that’s going to bother you, and if you don’t read it, I won’t be mad.

That being said, welcome to my massive love letter to brotherly dukexiety.  These two are such amazing brothers and if I have to write my own monster of a fic to make everyone else see it, that's exactly what I'll do.  It's finished already, so welcome back to your regularly scheduled Sunday morning updates.  Hope you enjoy!

And as a last note, absolutely all the credit to @shadowling-guistical, who was there for me to scream to and who cheered me on and got just as excited about this story as I did the whole time it was being written.  Mishii, I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say this story would not exist without you.

...

Virgil was not at all excited at the prospect of meeting with the core sides again.  That video was supposed to be a one time thing!  Okay, well, Thomas had said something about him being potentially used in future videos, but that was going to be something that happened once in a while, whenever they needed a villain to defeat or wanted to talk about the dangers of anxiety.  Why on Earth would they need to talk to him again so soon?

Remus hadn’t seemed to get it either, but he at least had been willing to get Virgil’s mind off of it by suggesting all sorts of ways he could annoy the core sides when he went to talk to them.  Most of his ideas involved dropping blood, saliva, or other bodily fluids on them, to which Virgil had laughed and pointed out the way that he definitely wouldn’t be able to conjure that much of anything.  He wasn’t Creativity, after all.

“Eh, you could at least spit on Janus,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively.  “You’ll be right next to him.”

Virgil laughed again.  “Yeah, spitting on Thomas’ Self Preservation.  That’ll get me invited back.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back,” Remus pointed out with a grin and raised eyebrows.

“Well, if I’m not invited back, how will I ever work up to being able to spit on Janus without consequences?”

It was Remus’ turn to laugh now, and he flopped down on his bed while continuing to grin.  “You make an excellent point.”

For how lighthearted the conversation seemed, they were both ignoring the undercurrent of fear tucked under the entire thing.  Because for how much Virgil and Remus didn’t love the prospect of him talking to the core sides again, there were still three sides that very much did.

It had been long known by the two of them how badly Malice wanted a way to get to Thomas.  Why he thought Thomas would listen to him was anyone’s guess, but he’d managed to get Positivity and Cruelty on board with the plan decades ago.  They had thankfully gotten pretty much nowhere, due in no small part to the fact that the side they’d need to convince to let them talk to Thomas was a core side who almost never came to their side of the mindscape in the first place.

Of course when he did come down here, he usually talked to Virgil, which didn’t make Virgil super popular.  But him having a direct line to Janus more often would be exactly the kind of thing that Malice would want.  Far easier to pressure Virgil into pressuring Janus into pressuring Thomas for something, as convoluted and complicated as that sounded.  So whether it was what Virgil wanted or not, Remus wasn’t too far off.  The safest thing for Thomas in this situation was to be as antagonistic as possible— which wouldn’t win him any points with Malice.  Whatever.  He was used to hiding bruises whenever Janus came down here.  It wasn’t that hard.

Virgil stayed in Remus’ room for most of the morning, as it was better for brainstorming and coming up with a game plan, especially when Remus was in there with him.  Of course, the game plan often ended up involving a lot of sex jokes and spitting on other sides, but Virgil could edit those parts out.

It was just after what would have been lunchtime if they were eating today that Virgil felt the tugging that meant he was being summoned by Thomas.  He glanced over at Remus with a tense smile that probably came out more like a grimace.

“Ah, time?”

Virgil nodded.

“Spit on Janus for me!”

“No,” Virgil said, as he sunk out in order to appear in the real world.

If he was going to be antagonistic with this thing, might as well get a head start.  Virgil appeared leaning on top of Janus’ hat, picking at his fingernails.  “I’m told you want to talk to me for some reason?”

“Get off of me,” Janus snapped, shoving Virgil towards the other side of the stair platform they were standing on.

“Oh, shoot, were you standing there?  Sorry, I didn’t see anything important.”

Janus gave him an unamused look, and Virgil turned from him to face Thomas before he could reply.  “Is there something you wanted?  I did have things to do today, you know.”

Most of those things probably involved hiding and running for his life, but that could come after he ended this conversation on a bad note so Thomas would never want to talk to him again.

Thomas sighed.  “Well, there was a bit of a surprising reaction to the video you were in,” he said.

Oh, god.  “What?  Are people lining up with torches and pitchforks?  Hate to break it to them, but they can’t actually affect me, I’m imaginary, they’re not—”

“Actually, everyone loved you kiddo!” Patton said brightly.

Virgil blinked and turned to face him.  “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, unfortunately, the fanbase seems to have adored you,” Roman said, crossing his arms and looking very unhappy with the situation.  “You are the second favorite character.”

“Second favorite?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!  After me!” Roman proclaimed, adding a flourish with his hands.

“Oh, of course,” Virgil grumbled, leaning against the banister to his left.  “So why exactly does that matter?”

“Well, we have adjusted our plan slightly to align with what the viewers seem to be enjoying,” Logan said.  Virgil glanced down at him.  “And you will of course be included in more videos.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be a main character!” Patton called.

“I don’t want to be a main character,” Virgil said, crossing his arms over his chest.  That would be way too much pressure, were they insane?

“Oh!” Janus said brightly, clapping his hands together.  “Well, that decides that then!  Alright, Anxiety, if you wouldn’t mind heading back to—”

“Janus,” Thomas said in a low warning tone.  Janus groaned and looked up at the ceiling in clear disapproval, but stopped talking.

“You didn’t have a problem doing the last video,” Thomas said, turning back to Virgil.

“That was one.  Do you honestly think I’m okay with showing up in multiple videos?  Probably almost all of them if you’re saying I’d be a main character!”

“Anxiety, I can understand the idea of filming can be a little unnerving,” Patton said.  “And so can the idea of moving over here—”

“Wait.”  All of Virgil’s arguments came to a screeching halt before most of them had finished forming.  “Moving over here?”

“It would make it far easier to film if you could be around most of the time already,” Logan said.  “We can hardly expect Janus to make a trip to the other side of the mindscape every time we need to make a video.”

Virgil took a moment to process the irony in that statement, blinking at Logan.

Well, that changed things.  If he helped with the videos, he moved over here?  For a second, Virgil considered what that might mean.  He’d get away from Malice, Positivity, and Cruelty.  From what he understood, the core sides didn’t do things the same way they did.  Maybe he wouldn’t have to watch his back every second.  Maybe he could actually sleep easily for once.  But the problem there was, Virgil didn’t only have to watch his own back.  And if he left Remus alone…

It would be a huge disservice to the creative side to say that Remus couldn’t defend himself.  He was far from helpless.  He’d saved Virgil’s own ass more times than he could count.  But there were two of them and three of the others.  On a good day they could hold their own, but if it was just Remus against the three of them, he’d be pretty exposed.

Virgil was a protector.  That was his job, to protect Thomas.  Remus was a part of that.  And he needed Virgil far more than Thomas did most of the time.

Besides, there was a pecking order to the mindscape, as had been explained to Virgil very clearly the time that Malice and Cruelty had thrown Remus at him, unconscious and bleeding from where his mustache was supposed to be.  They wanted to get to Thomas.  But in order to do that they first had to get to Janus.  And since Janus wasn’t an easy side to get to, their best chance was to fuck with Virgil, the person Janus talked to if he ever came down there.  And if you wanted to fuck with Virgil you fucked with the people he was supposed to protect.  If Virgil left Remus alone and exposed, it would be giving them an even more direct line to Janus, and in turn, to Thomas.

Virgil paused as another option struck him.

He looked directly at Thomas.  “On one condition.”

Thomas blinked in surprise.  “You changed your mind?”

“On one condition,” Virgil repeated.

“What?”

“I get to bring someone with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Janus said instantly, glaring at Virgil.

“Janus,” Thomas said, crossing his arms.

“That’s my job!” Janus snapped.  “He doesn’t get to decide when you meet sides!  That’s my territory!”

“No one said he had to meet Thomas,” Virgil said, smirking as he slipped effortlessly back into the asshole persona.  “But if I have to deal with all of you idiots, I want some actually enjoyable company.”

“Hey, be nice,” Thomas said, raising an eyebrow at Virgil.

“Sorry, buddy, nice isn’t in my job description.  You should talk to Patton about that one.”

“Kiddo,” Patton said, sounding a little disappointed.

Virgil ignored him and looked back over at Janus.  “That’s my deal.  You want me to be part of this stupid video series long-term, you want me to come over here and be on-call for whenever you want to film, I get to bring one side with me.”

Janus narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.  “No.”

“Janus,” Thomas said in exasperation.  “Come on.”

“I am not allowing a hostile side up here,” Janus said, still looking directly at Virgil.  “I decide when you’re ready to meet new sides.  I know all of the other sides down there, and trust me when I say that you’re not ready to meet any of them.  Letting one of them come over here is dancing too close to that line, and I will not allow it.”

Patton started to say something else, probably an attempt to change Janus’ mind, but Virgil recognized the expression on his face.  He wasn’t going to be swayed.

And Virgil wasn’t going to leave Remus by himself.

“Fine,” he said, straightening a little as he shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Then I suppose we’re done here.”

“Wait a second, Anxiety—” Logan started.

“I suppose we are,” Janus said, not moving his glare.

Virgil sank back out to Remus’ room without another word, despite the protests he heard follow him down.

Remus wasn’t there when Virgil got there, which was definitely a bad sign.  Virgil headed for all of their usual hiding spots first, as they’d decided years ago.  If they went to the others first, they would unquestionably get hurt, and if they already were being hurt, it was okay, they could last a little longer in order to not give away hiding spots.

This time, however, Virgil didn’t have to make it through all of the hiding spots, because he was passing the third when he walked in behind Cruelty holding a knife up to Remus’ face.

Remus must have seen him, but Cruelty was the only one in the room and they were both well practiced with not acknowledging the other’s presence.  Virgil summoned his scythe, made with Remus’ help a long time ago, and crept up behind Cruelty, silent on his feet.

“And another thing—” Cruelty started in a low voice.  Unfortunately, his other thing would be lost to time and space, because that’s when Virgil slammed the handle of his scythe into the back of his head, and he crumpled.

“You okay?” he asked, looking at Remus.

“Yeah,” Remus said, waving a dismissive hand, even though after doing so he moved to clutch at his other shoulder.  “Just a stab wound.”

“Ah.” Virgil shoved down the anxiety that always came when Remus was hurt, whether it was hours of grueling torture or just a simple stab wound.  “You want help?”

“I can patch myself up just fine, thanks, I don’t need help.”

“Oh, yeah?  Because it looks like you got cornered by just Cruelty,” Virgil said, smirking at him.

“Ah ha ha ha,” Remus said.  “But come with me, I want to hear what the heck the core sides wanted to talk to you about.”

Virgil followed Remus to the bathroom, looking him over as he did so to make sure he wasn’t hiding worse injuries.  He had a tendency to do that if he thought it would make Virgil nervous.

“You checking me out?” Remus asked as they both stopped in the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’re still smoking hot,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “Don’t worry, your new scar will not take away from how attractive you are.”

“Virgil, please, everyone knows scars make someone more attractive.  Movies say so and therefore it must be true.”

“Uh huh, yeah.”

Virgil set Remus’ shirt and sash to the side to be washed later as Remus inspected the knife wound in his shoulder.  He was right, it didn’t look bad at all, and he cleaned and wrapped it in under a minute, then snapped a new shirt on over it.  “So, what did the core sides want?” he asked.

“Oh, apparently the fanbase loved me, and they wanted me to move over there to be in more videos,” Virgil said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Hang on, what?” Remus exclaimed, leaping up from his spot sitting on the toilet.  “What did you say?”

Virgil stared.  “I said no,” he said in bafflement.  “Duh.”

“You did what?  Are you nuts?  And I don’t even mean the fun kind, Virgil!”

“Oh, please.”  Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.  “What am I supposed to do, leave you over here by yourself?”

“Um, yes.”

Virgil stood up straighter and dropped his arms.  “What— Remus, I’m not going to do that.”

“You get offered a chance to leave this hell hole behind and you turn it down for my sake?  Jesus, Virgil, I love you too, but come on.”

Virgil stared at Remus for another minute.  Was he serious?  It sounded an awful lot like he was serious.  “You… Remus, you’re joking, right?  This is a really poorly timed joke?”

But Remus was seeming to realize that Virgil was serious the same time Virgil was realizing that Remus was.  “Virgil.”  Remus reached out and put his hands on his shoulders.  “I just got stabbed in the shoulder, and we’re reacting like it’s a normal Tuesday around here because it is.  Listen to me.  You are going to get out of here.”

“Not without you,” Virgil said instantly.

“Yes without me,” Remus replied just as quickly.  “Have you thought this through at all, idiot?  Remember when Janus first went up there?”

Virgil scowled.  “What about it?”

“Everyone hated him at first.  Don’t you remember?  Remember why he went up there in the first place?”

“Yeah, of course.  Laura Singer.”

Thomas had met Laura when they were both in eighth grade, when he had found her crying behind the school because she was worried her parents were going to find out she was a lesbian.  Janus had shown up on a whim to make a suggestion, and that was how Thomas got his first girlfriend and came out for the first time simultaneously.  And through that, overtime, Thomas had gained a lifelong friend in Laura, and a core side in Janus.

“But what’s your point?” Virgil continued, crossing his arms.

“No one liked Janus at first,” Remus said, crossing his own back.  “He won them over overtime.  Who’s to say that can’t happen again?”

“It’s not going to happen fast enough,” Virgil insisted.  “I can’t leave you down here by yourself, you idiot.”

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

“I know you can.  But I also know three against one isn’t a fair fight.  I’m not going to leave you here, Remus.”

Remus narrowed his eyes.  “Yes you are.”  He sank out before Virgil could protest.

“What— Remus!” Virgil cried, sinking out to follow him wherever he went.

He ended up in the core side’s commons in front of all four core sides themselves, and most of them were already looking either very surprised or very displeased to see both of them.

“Hello, all,” Remus said with his too-wide smile.  “There’s been a change of plans.  Anxiety will in fact be coming up here to assist with more videos!”

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, trying to kick him while being subtle about it.  It’s not like he was going to outwardly disagree with him in front of the core sides, and Remus knew that.

“Oh, really?  That’s great, kiddo,” Patton said with a smile, standing from his spot next to Janus.

“I’m not your kiddo,” Virgil snapped.  “Don’t call me that.”

“Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we, maybe you’ll warm up to the idea while you’re up here,” Remus said, giving Virgil a large blindingly bright grin that made Virgil reach behind him and pinch him on the back of the neck.

“But he’s so thrilled for the opportunity,” Remus continued.  “He just needed a moment for it to sink in, you know, it was a bit overwhelming is all.”

Patton’s smile turned a bit confused.

A second later, Janus stood up, already scowling.  “You seemed very against the idea earlier,” he said lowly.

“Yeah, what the heck is with the change of plans Hot Topic?” Roman asked, crossing his arms from his spot against Janus’ other side.

“I just told you,” Remus said, tilting his head just enough for his neck to crack.  “He needed some time to process.  But he’s more than willing to move up here to join you all.  Aren’t you, Anxy?” Remus asked, turning his smile back onto Virgil again.

Virgil gave Remus a large smile back that poorly hid the fury of a thousand suns, and turned to face the others again.  “Yep.  Just thrilled at the prospect,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh,” Patton said, still sounding confused.  “Well, that’s wonderful ki— Anxiety,” he amended.  “Do you know how long you’ll need to move up here?”

“He can do it right now!” Remus called brightly.  “He already has all of your begrudging permission, right?”  Remus snapped his fingers and there was a loud crunching sound followed by Virgil’s room appearing down the hallway right next to Janus’ room.

Virgil grabbed one of Remus’ hands and yanked it behind his back so he could bend the fingers back, even though it was clear at this point that Remus wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Well, that looks perfect!” Remus said brightly.  “We’ll just make sure everything looks good, and then I will be out of your armpit hair!”

Remus sunk them both out again, and reappeared them both in Virgil’s bedroom.

Virgil immediately whirled on him and shook him by the shoulders.  “Why did you do that?” he snapped.  “You asshole, I told you no!”

“And I told you I’m not letting you turn down the one chance you have to get away from the others,” Remus said firmly.  “You’re staying here, Virgil.”

“Remus, it’s not just about that,” Virgil said.  “Don’t you get it, you just gave them an easier way to hurt you and pressure me into doing something to get them to stop.  You know what they’re capable of.  They could seriously hurt you.  They could kill you.”

Sides couldn’t die permanently, but they were way more vulnerable while reforming from death.  Getting hurt during that time was the kind of thing that caused permanent damage.  Virgil and Remus had always been there to watch each other’s backs when it happened before.  If they managed to kill Remus, while Virgil wasn’t there to help…

“It doesn’t matter,” Remus said, pulling Virgil from his thoughts before he could really start spiraling.  “Just don’t do what they say.”

“What— oh yeah, I’ll just do that,” Virgil said, stubbornly ignoring the tears welling up in his eyes.  “I’ll just knowingly let my only family get badly hurt while I live in the lap of luxury.  That won’t make me a huge fucking asshole.”

“You’re right, it won’t.  Because that’s exactly what I’m telling you to do.”

“Remus.  I can’t just leave you there.”

“Okay, fine.  Don’t.  Get them to like you, just like Janus did, and ask them to let me come over here once they do.”

“I said that isn’t going to happen fast enough!” Virgil snapped.  “How am I supposed to get them to like me?  I’m not exactly a likable side, Remus!”

“Virgil,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow.  “I get that this might be a difficult concept for you to understand.”  He leaned into Virgil’s face as if Virgil was missing something obvious.  “Play. Nice.”

Virgil scowled.

“Don’t be confrontational.  Maybe agree with another side every now and then and don’t constantly bring up the negatives to everything they say.  Try not glaring at Janus every time a word comes out of his mouth.”

Virgil opened his mouth to protest, only for Remus to shove his hand over it, which Virgil leaned back from instantly.  He didn’t want to know where that thing had been.  “Virgil, Janus is the main side you have to win over.  You do get that, don’t you?”

Virgil took a step back and let out a groan.  “Yes,” he mumbled, glaring down at the floor.  “I just… Remus, I don’t want to have to deal with him to get you out!”

“I get that.  I’m with you, okay?  But that’s just how it is.  Get Janus to like you, and he’ll be much more likely to let me come over here.  And that’s the only way to ensure that I’m not kicked out almost immediately.”

“I know,” Virgil grumbled.  “I…” he sighed.  He was being unfair, wasn’t he?  Remus was the one who would have to deal with the others alone, if he could do that, Virgil could manage to not scream at Janus every time he saw him.  “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll…” Virgil glared away.  “Play nice with Janus.”  He looked back at Remus.  “But I can’t just suddenly start being the friendliest side in the world to him, that’s just going to make him suspicious.”

“Okay, then try slowly working up to sucking his dick.”

Virgil winced.  “But Remus—”

“I can handle it.  I’m a patient side.”

Virgil snorted.  “Oh yeah, when I think patience, I think of you.”

“I know I won’t be able to get out immediately,” Remus said.  “It’s okay.”

Virgil looked back up.  Remus was biting his lip while frowning and not even pulling off a finger to chew on.

Virgil looked down and laughed bitterly.  “When did you get so serious?”

“Excuse me, is that a challenge?  I’ll strip naked right now.”

“Ew, no!” Virgil called, leaning forward enough to shove Remus’ back.  “You’re disgusting!”

“Thank you, I try.  And don’t ever call me serious ever again.”

Virgil looked over at him, smiling even as he shook his head in exasperation.

“I just trust you,” Remus said.

Virgil stopped smiling.  “Oh.”  He looked at Remus for another moment, then walked forward and pulled him into a hug.  “I’m not gonna let you down,” he mumbled into Remus’ sash.

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging him back.  “I know.”

Remus pulled back after a minute and smiled weakly at Virgil.  “Okay.  I’m gonna go and add more traps to stop anyone trying to get into my room.”

“Let me help you,” Virgil said instantly.

“No,” Remus said, pushing Virgil back a little more.  “I’ve got this.  I’m gonna be on my own for a little while, I can—”

“Remus,” Virgil cut him off.  “Let me help you with this.”

Remus swallowed, and nodded.  “Okay.”

They both sunk out together and headed for Remus’ room, and Virgil tried to ignore the fear that was cropping up at all of this.  Remus would be fine.  He was Remus, he could handle himself.  Three against one still wasn’t fair, but that just meant he would have to move as quickly as he could.  He’d start tomorrow.  He could make everyone breakfast of some kind.  Pretty much everyone likes pancakes, right?

...

Chapter Two

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #character thomas sanders #brotherly dukexiety #platonic dukexiety #platonic anxceit #platonic moxiety #platonic analogical #platonic prinxiety #platonic thvi #creativitwins #platonic roceit #tw injury #tw violence #tw violent imagery #tw violent death #temporary character death #for multiple characters #tw torture #tw manipulation #tw abandonment #wow there's a lot in this one #virgil angst #remus angst #my fic

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Beneath The Skin

Relationship: Remus Lupin x OFC

Summary: This is the story of one young woman's struggle with pain, inner pain, mental pain, physical pain, psychological pain, every kind of pain you can imagine. Remus Lupin understands pain, he wants her to understand that it doesn't mean you can't feel anything else, he wants her to understand that pain has absolutely nothing on love.  

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING, heavy mentions of self-harm and suicidal tendencies, pain, angst, loss of parents, trust issues. 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 9 - Confessions of Pain

Remus had spent most of the days leading up to the New Year sleeping in his room and trying hard to ignore the exhaustion in his muscles. It hadn’t been this bad in a long time and Remus was well aware of why it was affecting him so much now. His nightmares were filled with a seven-year-old child screaming for her mother to be alive, begging him to help her and he did nothing.

Remus had tried to make it to dinner the day after the full moon, but the exhaustion was getting to be a bit too much for him. He made it as far as his desk in his classroom, but that was it and the energy to go any further escaped him. He couldn’t even find the energy to button his shirt up the whole way and just spent the evening with his music, dosing in the candlelight. He was vaguely aware of someone opening the door to his classroom, assuming it was either Snape or Pomfrey, he didn’t bother opening his eyes, instead he just continued to doze.

He only opened his eyes when the smell of chocolate invaded his senses. A mug filled with steaming hot chocolate sat in front on him along with a box of biscuits that smelt of mint, he also noticed that his music had changed and suddenly the realisation that only one person would have done that for him hit.

There was a small note sitting beside the mug and Remus mustered the energy to sit up and read it.

Remus,

You said it was okay to call you that, I hope it’s okay that I did it here. You were sleeping when I came to see you earlier and I didn’t want to disturb you.

You seem really tired lately and I didn’t know how to help, or even if you’d want any help. Anyway, I hope this does help, I remember you said chocolate always cheers you up and I read something about mint helping when you’re tired.

Angelina said that this was a good gesture of friendship, I didn’t tell her it was you, don’t worry, but she’s friends with everyone so I figured she’d be a good person to ask.

I’m going on a bit now, but I hope you feel better soon and enjoy the music. It’s from Dominic, he says hi.

Happy New Year.

Your friend.

Remus felt himself smile and realised that the music was a band he’d never heard before, but he was enjoying it all the same. He enjoyed the fact that Rosaline had found the courage to go back to Hogsmeade and cared enough that she would bring him something back. The only thing that had his smile fading was when he thought about the state she had seen him in, his shirt revealed far too much of his chest and he’d not bothered to zip his trousers up. It wasn’t appropriate, but then it seemed he was breaking all the rules for her.

Much to his delight, he felt a lot better after tasting the sweet chocolate and the mixture of the mint biscuit was a combination he’d be relying on in the future. He might have been able to get up the next morning and feel like a functioning human being again.

It was a good start to the New Year when Remus woke up with a deep breath and a new determination to start the year refreshed and ready for the next set of challenges. He’d promised to teach Harry the Patronus charm and it only served as a reminder that Rosaline was unable to perform it either, though he was sure she wouldn’t want that fact revealed to anyone.

Remus decided to find Rosaline and see if she had anything she wanted to talk about. It was an unusual thing not to be able to find her quickly, he checked the Astronomy Tower, the lake, the Great Hall where some people were socialising and even the kitchens to see if she was simply sitting trying to keep her promise to eat a little more. But she wasn’t in any of those places. Remus debated whether he should have asked Angelina Johnson who was talking about Quidditch with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall.

‘Morning Professor.’ Angelina smiled, she suddenly turned her attention entirely on him and it made Remus very uncomfortable to witness her attraction so blatantly, but it did bring back the fond memory of Rosaline asking if he really did fight off women everywhere he went.

‘Good morning, I see you’re all well rested for the new year.’ Remus nodded politely. ‘Where’s everyone else?’ It was vague enough that he may have at least come up with a few more places to look for Rosaline.

‘Andrew’s with Madame Pomfrey,’ Angelina explained. ‘He’s been eating nothing but chocolate for the last four days. Everyone else is in the common room or the library.’

‘I see, and Hermione?’ Remus directed the question at Harry and Ron who mumbled vague answers of uncertainty. ‘Can I take this to mean you’re still not talking to each other then?’ Again, they mumbled their replies. ‘Well, I hope you resolve things soon.’

‘Not bloody likely.’ Ron whispered under his breath, but Remus heard it loud and clear.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Remus nodded and decided he really didn’t want to be under the gaze of Miss Johnson any longer.

The library was a good place to check first, she may well have been reading up on some complex subject or another, but much to his surprise she wasn’t there either. Remus checked the restricted section and even the private study tables, but there was no sign that anyone had been in the library for days.

It was beginning to be a slight worry that she wasn’t in any of her usual spots and Remus was concerned that she was somewhere she shouldn’t have been. The carriages wouldn’t be running again until the students came back from their holidays so that ruled out Hogsmeade, the only other place he could she would be was with Madam Pomfrey. As luck would have it, that was exactly where he found her.

‘I’ve told you before, you’ve become far too dependant, I can’t give you anymore.’ Pomfrey argued. Remus didn’t hear Rosaline’s reply, but she took a moment to debate arguing, before deciding against it and making a move to leave the hospital wing.

Rosaline kept her head down, reminding him so much of the young woman he’d first met in his classes at the beginning of the year, she barely even realised he was standing there and probably would have ignored him completely had he not said anything.

‘Rosaline, are you alright?’ He asked and she just shook her head, leaving the hospital wing. Remus took a moment to work out whether he should have followed her, but if there was something wrong then he didn’t want her to be alone.

Rosaline went out of the front doors and straight to the rock near the lake where she usually sat. She was just wearing her maroon jumper and Remus wasn’t much better in just his green cardigan and shirt. She sat down on the rock and repeated a mantra to herself, over and over again.

‘Breathe. Deep breaths, just breathe. Breathe. Come on, just breathe. Deep breaths.’ Rosaline gripped her knees and took a few stuttered and jagged breaths, before giving up and holding her head in her hands. ‘Please don’t do this. Please, please just stop.’ She begged and Remus couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

Remus sat down beside her and gently pulled her close to his chest. At this point, he didn’t care who was watching, all he knew was that Rosaline needed this to feel normal and he had never refused so far. After a while, she managed to take a few consistently deep breaths and Remus was satisfied that she was through the worst part, but she was still shivering and Remus knew they couldn’t stay there forever.

‘Rosaline, I don’t think the cold is going to do either of us any good,’ he said as gently as he could. ‘Will you come up to my office so we can talk?’

Remus could tell that she wanted to shake her head, she wanted to stay out in the cold and curl up in the snow.

‘I think if you let me take care of you for a while, you’ll feel better.’ Remus tried to persuade her, but she still didn’t seem too convinced. Remus gave her some time and ran his hands over her back and arms, anything to keep her warm, before she finally nodded.

He guided her through the empty corridors, taking a slightly longer route to his office in order to avoid anyone seeing them and asking awkward questions. As soon as they arrived, Rosaline waved her hand towards the fire and curled into her usual armchair, pulling her knees into her chest and tried to take deep breaths once again. Her eyes were tight shut and Remus gently closed the door behind them.

Rosaline was still shivering and the only thing Remus could think to do, was to grab the soft blanket from his own chair and carefully cover her body with it.

‘Just keep breathing, Rosaline.’ Remus said, quietly. ‘Deep breaths, just try to relax and breathe.’ It took a few more stutters, but she managed to take a couple of deeper breaths which did the trick and she steadied her breathing, it was still a little shallow for his liking, but she was getting there. Remus gently ran his hand through her soft dark hair, anything to soothe her for a little while. ‘That’s it, just breathe, nice and slow. Relax and take a deep breath, Rosaline.’ She seemed to follow his instructions without any thought or resistance, she relaxed her body as much as she could, took a deep breath and finally she was able to let go of some of the pain she was holding onto. ‘That’s better.’ He ran his hand through her hair for a little longer while she continued to focus on her breathing. ‘That’s much better.’ He encouraged and for a while he was mesmerised by her face.

Rosaline was still repeating the mantra to herself, her soft, rosy lips making miniscule movements and Remus’s mind was suddenly invaded with the image of pressing the lightest of kisses against them. He quickly looked away and tried to think of something else, anything else that wasn’t that, he couldn’t think about that. Her watery, bloodshot eyes opened just a little and he was glad that she was coming back into reality.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered so quietly into the fabric of the chair.

‘That’s alright, I’m here to help.’ Remus told her, scolding himself for being so crude in his mind despite his innocent intention to help her. ‘Do you think you could manage some chocolate?’ She nodded slowly and Remus went over to his desk to check what he had left in his stash. ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got plain left.’ He said, breaking a few pieces and handing her a smaller piece to eat. ‘Maybe you could accompany me to Honeydukes soon so I can stock up?’ She didn’t answer, instead, Rosaline just placed the small square on her tongue and let it melt in her mouth.

Remus didn’t pressure her to speak for a while, instead he went about making her some tea and left the chocolate on the table close to her. She remained curled beneath the blanket and Remus eventually occupied himself reading until she was ready to talk to him.

‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ She whispered, the crackling of the fire almost made him miss her question.

‘Is there anything in particular you’d like me to say?’ Remus closed his book and leaned forward on his knees.

‘I don’t know.’

Remus nodded and thought quickly about what she might have needed. ‘Okay, well I would like to say thank you for coming to see me yesterday and I apologise for not being able to speak with you. I’m sure you could tell I wasn’t well enough to do much of anything.’

Rosaline sniffed and gave a twitch of a smile. ‘You’ve done so much for me, I wanted to do something nice for you.’

‘And I appreciate it very much,’ Remus nodded. ‘Not many people would be so kind as that… so, do you want to talk about why you were asking Madam Pomfrey for the Dreamless Sleep again? Are they getting worse?’

Rosaline sniffed again and thought about her answer. ‘Sometimes, I just have bad days… the bad days always mean I’ll have bad nights, the only way to stop them is to take the potion. I don’t know any other way to make them stop.’

‘I see.’ Remus nodded, trying to understand what she was saying. ‘And do these bad days happen for a reason? Is there anything that you’ve found links them together? Maybe a routine? Or a lack of sleep possibly?’

Rosaline shook her head and moved so that she was looking straight at him. ‘No, I just wake up, I try to concentrate, but some days it doesn’t work. That’s how I know it’s going to be a bad day.’

‘You have a routine for waking up?’ Remus frowned and she nodded. ‘May I ask what your routine consists of?’

Rosaline’s expression changed to the guarded look she used to have whenever anyone spoke with her, but it slowly slipped away as she contemplated telling Remus about what she did every morning.

‘It’s like there’s something living beneath my skin,’ she swallowed, picking a point on the wall behind him and sticking to it while she remembered her morning every morning. ‘It’s unbearably itchy, but I know that if I scratch the skin it’ll burn worse… the itch turns into pin pricks all over my body… and then it’s like being ripped open from the inside out and the only thing I can think to do is breathe.’ Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. ‘If I can just breathe slow and steady for long enough, I know I’ll be able to ignore it long enough to get up and take a shower. Once I’m in the shower, I have to be careful not to scratch the skin because the hot water will make the burning worse. When I get out, I try not to move too much because the towel always hurts no matter what, but I know that so I try and find whatever clothes are softest and then I try and find something that will help me ignore the pain.’ Rosaline let a few tears go and Remus breathed deeply, feeling sorry that this was what she had to go through every day in order to have a good day. ‘The bad days are the days where I can’t ignore it and my skin burns, my eyes feel like they’ll burst and my insides feel like they’re on fire… those days don’t happen so much anymore, I play music to help me ignore the pain, but some days I just can’t concentrate on anything else… and I know when those days happen, I’ll do anything to make it stop.’

More tears fell from her eyes and Remus could help but feel a lump in his own throat, he wanted nothing more than to scoop her fragile body up and wrap his whole body around hers, to keep her safe and warm and happy.

‘Why did this happen to me?’ She asked, her tears were threatening to turn into sobs.

‘Because you were brave,’ Remus couldn’t quite keep a hold of all of his own tears and felt them falling down his cheek. ‘Because your mother was brave and most importantly of all, this happened to you, because you are the only person in the world who could ever hope to survive. Not only survive, but to live a full and rich life despite it. That’s why this happened to you Rosaline, because it could only happen to best of us.’

Rosaline shook her head a little. ‘I wish I could believe that right now… but it hurts too much.’

Remus closed his eyes, not being able to stand being so close to her and be unable to do anything about it. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted every patch of her skin to be covered warmth and love and all pain to be a forgotten memory. But he did nothing, Remus sat and hoped he had the strength to get her through without giving into his desires.

‘Rosaline, I want to help you.’ Remus begged. ‘I don’t want you to be in pain or have to go through that alone, I know what that’s like and I know that no matter how bad it feels, it’s always worse when you’re alone. Please don’t feel like you have to be alone anymore.’

Rosaline gave what could only be described as a half smile. ‘I don’t feel alone when I’m with you.’

Remus was sure Rosaline caught his instinctive movement towards her, but he stopped himself before he made it obvious. If this had been any other situation, any other person in any other place, Remus would kiss her, he would touch her, he would hold her, he would take her to bed and he would make love to her. But this wasn’t a line he could overstep, he’d betrayed Dumbledore once and taken advantage of his trust, he wouldn’t do it again, he couldn’t.

‘I’m happy you feel that way.’ Remus smiled, what else was he supposed to say? ‘It means you trust me, and I hope I can prove to you that your trust means as much to me as it does you.’ It was her turn to simply smile and close her eyes for a moment. ‘Rosaline, you do trust me, don’t you?’

She took a moment to think, before opening her eyes. ‘I’ve only trusted one other person in my life and she died protecting me… I’m scared the same thing will happen to you. Promise me, it won’t.’

Remus took a deep breath. ‘I can’t promise that Rosaline, I feel a need to protect you and I don’t know what lengths that extends to, but I can promise that I will not leave you of my own accord… is that enough?’

Rosaline smiled gently. ‘It’s enough.’ She said and again Remus was struck by how pretty she was, her long lashes stuck together slightly from her tears, but it didn’t take away from the shape of her watery green eyes, her freckles weren’t spoiled by the redness of her cheeks and her soft pink lips were not ruined by the slight cracks where they had dried. She was perfect in every sense and Remus knew he was in so much trouble, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care. ‘Do you mind if I fall asleep?’ She asked, it seemed to be such a simple request. ‘I’m too tired to move.’

Remus chuckled. ‘Of course, I’ll be here if you need me.’ Remus nodded and watched her rest her head against the cushioned fabric of the armchair. Remus waved his hand to reduce the flames and quieten the room for her.

He automatically picked up his book, but when he heard the soft breathing coming from the opposite armchair, he forgot all about what he was reading and turned all of his attention to watching Rosaline sleep. He was glad to see she had no nightmares to speak of and seemed to enjoy the rest she was getting while she was able to get it. Remus wondered idly if there was a reason beyond a mutual connection over pain, that enabled her to trust him so easily. It was a distant hope, but one Remus occasionally found himself entertaining when he was alone.

He carried her through the fire to her bedroom and carefully placed her down, remembering how sensitive her skin was and trying not to irritate it at all. He slipped her shoes off and pulled the soft sheets up over her sleeping figure. Remus hesitated for a moment, before taking a chance and placing a small kiss against her temple, her skin was beautifully smooth, and he felt a rush of anger that anything caused something so pure any pain at all. He ran his fingers through her hair and for another moment just listened to the soft breathing that told him she was sleeping peacefully, before leaving her room to head back to his office and distract himself from anymore thoughts of Rosaline Carter.

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x oc #triggering themes

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja Vu

I spent some time thinking about Remus having the superpower to see the future and this happened, whoops. Might write more if I get some free time.

Summary: Remus sees the future and it often involves Roman’s death.

Words: 2284

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @lunasfriendgabby @never-end1ng-suffering @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

TW: Death, attempted murder, not being believed/listened to, unhealthy sibling relationships,

Read on Ao3 || My general Writing Masterlist

Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman the first time he sees his brother get run over by a car.

He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman and its the middle of the day in summer and Roman has on bright red sneakers that match his favorite jacket. They’re on their front lawn because Mom said they were being too loud and they can’t decide on a game to play because Roman wants to play Wizards and Knights and Remus wants to play Escape from Monkey Island. Roman calls him a name, a mean one, a childish, dumb, cruel one that would mean nothing in a year, a month, a week, a minute. Remus picks up the ball by his knees and throws it as far as he can, because he doesn’t want to be the wizard who fights the knights again.

The ball hits the ground, bounces twice and drops off the curb right into the street.

And the teenager driving the silver sedan is going twenty over the speed limit because they still believe nothing bad can ever happen to them.

Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman.

Roman is on the ground and not moving and not breathing. 

The silver sedan screeches to a stop ten feet past, ten feet too late, ten feet. And everyone is screaming: The teenager who just ran over Roman, the neighbor who had been mowing their lawn, Mom who came sprinting from the house. 

And then Remus is eight and only ten minutes younger than Roman because Roman is dead in the middle of the road. 

That’s the first time.

When he blinks, the vision is gone and Roman is in front of him calling him a mean, childish name and Remus has the ball in his hand ready to throw and a grey sedan is turning down their street going far too fast--

And Remus stumbles back and falls off his feet. His butt hits the ground hard and before he even knows what he's doing he's sobbing.

Roman twiddles over him with a bunch dumb, stupid apologies because he thinks that Remus is crying over name calling.

Not because he saw himself throw a ball towards the road and Roman died, or he threw it softer and Roman was quick enough that he survived to hear the ambulance arrive but not to make it to the hospital, or he threw it towards the house and it broke a window and Remus got grounded, or he threw it at Roman and it left a bright red mark that Remus got sent to his room for, or he dropped it and it fell in the gutter and Roman didn't talk to him for a week--

And Remus doesn't know how to explain it to anyone. He doesn't stop sobbing until Roman is grounded for making him cry and he's bundled under a mountain of blankets with Mom right next to him holding him tightly and whispering softly in his hair. When Dad comes home and joins the hug, he asks Mom what happened and she can’t answer any better than Remus can.

They talk about keeping an eye on him, about doctors, and therapy and the words quite literally go over his head. Every time that Remus closes his eyes sees the bumper of the grey sedan, and his head echoes with the sound of his brother’s body hitting the ground again and again and again.

He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman when he first sees his brother die. 

There’s no explanation for it. No reason why. But it happens again and again and again: Roman goes running around the pool and slips on the concrete turning the water red, Remus gives him a playful shove off the play set and he hits the ground just wrong enough that he never gets back up, they leave their shoes on the stairs one time too many and Remus finally knows why Mom is always so insistent that they not do that.

Mom and Dad take him to the nice doctor, who tells him these pills will help him get better.

They don’t.

Even though he wishes they would so badly. He clings to the hope that every time they change the number of pills or the amount of them or the type of them that he’ll stop seeing his brother die or get hurt or cry.

(Its not just his brother: Dad falls off the ladder while putting up Christmas lights, Mom gets scared by a spider and hits her head on the cabinets, the next door neighbor and his wife get into a fist fight, his teacher chokes on a sandwich,---)

By the time he’s ten he knows the truth: He isn’t going to get better. There are no magic pills that will save him, no amount screaming or crying or begging that will make the visions stop coming, nothing.

“Remus!” Mom cries frustrated, when he won’t let her leave for work on time because there’s ice on the deck and she’s going to fall. “You’re too old to be doing this!”

Too old to be crying about every time his family gets hurt, too old to be worried about things that can happen, might happen, won’t happen. He’s too old for anyone to believe him when he says he knows whats going to happen.

In the middle of the night, he wonders what will happen if he runs away.

And that’s when it starts: the vision of Remus in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and sneaking down the stairs only to be caught by Dad who was up for a midnight snack; the vision of him in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and struggling to get his window open, which wakes up Roman who starts crying loudly and Dad comes running; the vision of Remus packing nothing and running down the stairs to hug Dad; the vision of Remus rolling over and going back to sleep--

That’s when it starts to make sense.

Remus is ten and eleven minutes younger than Roman when he realizes he can pick and choose what vision he wants to happen of the millions of ones he can see all in his head in that instant. 

When Remus pulls Roman back before he gets scratched by the neighborhood wild cat he smiles and tells Roman, “I’ve seen it before!”

“Oh! Like Dejavu,” Roman says and Remus doesn’t correct him.

He stays closer though, watching and wondering what happens if “x”, and preventing bad things from coming to them. When the seventh grade bullies coming looking for them, Remus convinces Roman to follow him to the theater room to hang out; when there’s the pop quiz that no one studied for he memorizes the answers from the version of reality where he steals steals the smartest kids paper; when it snows Remus doesn’t shove a snowball down Roman’s back because he knows that it will cause him to get sick.

“Hey Roman!” Some kid in eighth grade says during lunch, “Wanna hang out?”

And Roman who is fourteen and only eleven minutes older than Remus grins brightly, “We’d love to!”

And Remus sees every version of how the conversation goes: Every version where that nameless senseless kid shrinks back and awkwardly admits the invitation doesn’t extend to Roman’s crazy weird brother, where Roman gets angry and mad and destroys his own reputation, where Roman falls to peer pressure and admits Remus is pretty weird---

“Nah!” Remus says before anything can actually happen, “I don’t wanna hang out! Ro, you go ahead.” (Because he’s seen ahead and knows that Roman comes back bursting with excitement and happiness and really thats all Remus has ever wanted for him, isn’t it?)

Even if the whispers through the highschool begin because of it. Remus can take a few rumors, a few snide remarks, a few isolations, to make his brother happy.

“He’s on drugs you know,” One girl says once Roman is out of earshot. Always out of earshot. “Totally crazy.”

“The way he looks at everyone is creepy.”

“Sometimes he acts like he already knows what people are gonna say and its annoying.”

Remus never felt the need to experiment with his power that much. 

“Just leave me alone, Remus!” Roman yells when they are seventeen years old and only eleven minutes apart.

“I’m not gonna let you go to that party!” Remus yells back.

“You don’t control me!”

“You’re going to do something stupid!” Remus snaps back, “You’re going to get drunk, and then drugged and then--”

“I’m not gonna get drunk! I’m not even gonna drink!” Roman throws back.

“Yes you are!” Remus snarls because he’s seen it time and time again, the way that Roman loves attention the way that he becomes pliable the second an older boy looks at him and compliments his hair and the second he’s convinced to have just one drink. Remus has seen the way his own knuckles look bruised and broken against the skin of those college kids that had looked so cool, the way that metal handcuffs feel as he’s loaded into the back of a police car with the sounds of two ambulance sirens wailing over the music.

He’s seen this, seen the way it ends if Roman goes to the party with or without Remus.

He’s always been able to see the way it goes.

“Shut up!” Roman yells.

And that--- that is not what he’s supposed to say.

“Shut up, Remus!” Roman yells, again. “You’re just mad because I got invited and you didn’t! I’m sorry I have friends, Remus! I’m sorry they like me more than you! Maybe if you weren’t such a freak you would have been invited too!”

Remus doesn’t know what to say. It feels a lot like he was shoved on stage without being told what show they’re preforming.

Roman shoves by him, which is not something that Remus saw him do in any of the visions. Why hadn’t he seen this version of the future? Why wasn’t this going as expected?

“Roman--”

Roman whips around to face him, and his red in the face, bursting with angry and emotions and Remus feels himself get angry too. 

“I don’t need you!” Roman spits like hellfire is in his veins.

“Yes you do!” Remus shouts back, because he can’t even count the number of times that Roman almost got hurt this week. There’s a terrible taste in the back of his throat, like fresh squeezed limes and hot sauce that makes his head pound. It makes him want to laugh, want to cry, want to pick something up and throw it, but his future visions are all messed up and nothing works--

“You can’t see the future, Remus!” Roman says and it sounds like he’s wanted to say it for a long time.

Remus is seventeen years old and only eleven minutes younger than Roman, when oh. 

When he realizes that he’s far too old to cry over watching Roman die, far too weird to get any friends at school, far too much to keep having Roman believe him when he says anything.

It’s Deja Vu. Its Coincidence. Its a trick and a joke and nothing more than that.

Oh.

Roman doesn’t know a single thing about him, doesn’t know how much time Remus put into making sure everything great happens for him, doesn’t know how much of himself Remus gave up for Roman to be happy. He doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know.

And Remus, with his blood boiling because Roman was his brother and clearly he didn’t feel as strongly about Remus as Remus felt about him, wonders what would happen if he punched Roman in the jaw--

They end up fighting on the floor in the hall between their rooms, Mom and Dad come running and Remus gets grounded while Roman gets to go out to the party with a black eye.

--if he shoved Roman down the stairs--

Roman screams as his arm breaks and he spends the night in the ER, Remus is grounded and Roman stops talking to him for a very long time.

--if he grabbed the snowglobe on Roman’s desk and slammed it into Roman’s head--

He topples to the ground, screaming glass and silver sparkles shatter all around them like pretty little snowflakes, Mom and Dad come running and the screaming doesn’t stop.

--if he fit his hands around Roman’s neck and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed--

Roman claws at Roman’s hands, but he’s too off balance, too surprised, too unprepared. He gasps for air and it takes longer in the real life than it does in the movies for Roman’s pretty brown eyes to roll back in his head and his pulse to flutter to a stop and Remus keeps hold him for three minutes more before he lets go and Roman is… Roman was… suddenly there’s only ten minutes between them, nine, eight.

Remus digs his nails into the doorframe of Roman’s room. He laughs.

“Fine,” Remus chokes on his laughter, his mouth tasting like his own stomach acid. “Fine, go to the party, Ro. I’m done caring.”

“Good!” Roman yells.

The door slams in Remus’s face and he can’t stop laughing about it. He drags his fingers through his hair and laughs all the way to his room, gasping for breath as he empties his backpack of school work and notebooks and everything. 

Remus is seventeen. 

And he runs away from home.

(Part two)

#sanders sides #Remus Sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic remus #superpowers #deja vu au #attempted murder #talk of deaths #but really this is remus #I thought far too long about remus being able to see the future okay #I have a whole plot figured out for this

[sidespromptblog]

The Goodbye Letter

Warnings: Crying (Logan), Hurt/Comfort, goodbye letter, talk of fading (past tense- Logan), and general angst. 

Summary: After months of planning and thinking, Logan decides to finally leave the light sides for good. Through a letter.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2188

The desk lamp next to Logan clicked on, illuminating a corner of the logical side’s room on pale yellow light as the figure of the logical side sat hunched over his desk a pen clasped tight between cramping fingers. 

It was late, so late that even Virgil would have been asleep by now. 

Which meant that it was the perfect time to do this.  

“I can do it...” Logan softly chanted to himself, as he rubbed his temples only giving the clock on his desk a wayward glance. It was late, way too late for the emotions he was trying to wrangle right now. But it had to be done now, or else he wasn’t going to get it done at all. “We talked about this ahead of time, and we know that I can do this…” 

All things considered, Logan started his letter off pretty eloquently given the state of his emotions. 

“I hope, that when you finally notice that I am no longer around. That the silence where I once stood is deafening.” He began, finding that once he started it was almost impossible to stop. “I hope that you try to fill it in whatever ways you can possibly think of, be it your singing, dancing, or probably more accurately… the arguing that never seems to go away whether I’m there or not. Whatever way you try, I hope that they all fail and I hope that you remember the time where the silence wasn’t there. I hope that you remember that it was once me, and I hope that you remember how I once was.” 

Logan didn’t feel at all angry, despite how his letter may make him seem towards those it was directed towards… he wasn’t angry about any of it. He hadn’t been angry about it in such a long time, he was more…

Comfortably numb at this point, despite what the words scrawled on the page spelled out. It was easy to default to this past anger he’d felt, rather than attempted to write out how they’d made him this way and how’d they’d made him so empty, to begin with.  

He’d need longer than a few hours to explain that, it would take days… days that he didn’t have right now. 

He had long since passed the stage of being angry or even being sad, he’d shed so many tears that it had hurt to cry and it had hurt even more to just be sad without being able to cry. He had tried trashing things, burning all of his notecards, and just ripping everything that he had once worked on to shreds. Now there was just… nothing. He was just tired at this point, and that was left was that tiredness that made him feel as if that was all that there was at this point. He couldn’t recall a single morning where he woke up not feeling this constant tiredness. And not feeling like it would be better off to not leave his bed, let alone his bedroom. 

It was just easier to write this letter, rather than having to go through the struggle of having to explain himself without being interrupted or argued with. 

“I hope it hurts,” He added without much malice left inside of him. “I hope it hurts to realize how far you’ve pushed me. I could have gone an eternity existing beside all of you, had it not been for the belittling. I’m sad to say that I probably would have stayed a little longer even if that was the case, I loved all of you so much. But after recent events… something inside of me is broken now, and I don’t think that it will ever be fixed properly.” 

Much to Logan’s surprise, he felt a stripe of wetness streak down his face at his next words dotting the page that he was writing on. 

At the admission of weakness that he now felt.

But even so, that didn’t stop him.  

If anything it only spurred him on now, even as it became hard to see throughout all of the tears.

“I am far too damaged now to come back to you all. I don’t remember when I wasn’t.�� 

Taking in a shaky breath, a whimper crawled up the logical side’s throat at the finalization that settled in his chest. He loved them… truly he did. He loved Roman’s energy, and how he put everything he had into every project he took. He had always given his whole heart to them regardless of how he felt. He loved Virgil’s mellowness and the way that he thought about things as realistically as he could despite how the world scared him. He loved Patton and his cheeriness, and his drive to keep going and to see the best in things… even if it wasn’t for the best in himself. 

“When did you first break me? And when could I no longer put myself back together?” 

But right now… it was so hard to love them. So hard that it felt almost impossible at this point. It was possible he knew… but not necessarily healthy. 

It was so hard to love them when they saw him as something optional, as something that was so boring that they couldn’t be bothered to even try to listen to him. Every single time they made a comment, every time they rolled their eyes, and every time attempted to ignore him once again…

It hurt. 

Every time it hurt more and more. 

“Logan?” 

The said logical side felt his shoulders stiffen at the hand that rested on his shoulder, gently cradling him as he went through wave after wave of tears that threatened to choke him if he didn’t let them out all at once.

It most certainly didn’t stop the shaking of his shoulders as he felt the tears that he had thought were once gone and dried up, rise up again with a vengeance. They ran down like a rainstorm, dripping onto the page and smudging the ink that hadn’t even begun to dry yet. Not that it mattered to him much anyways, it wasn’t the neatness he cared about now, but rather what the words had meant to him. What the emotions that had been locked away inside of him had tried to say after all of these years, and… what he had convinced himself that he had been alright with for years upon years. 

He wasn’t okay. 

Burying his face in his hands Logan tried to choke out an apology. “S..Sorry.. Sorry.” He mumbled out behind his mess of tears, “I thought that I was okay enough to write this. I thought.. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt as much… I’m sorry.” The apology was constant, despite the hand that released his shoulder instead curled around him, pulling him into a warm hug. 

A part of him wanted to pull against it, to finish his letter and everything that it entailed. Part of him wanted to rebel against the warmth from the other side, and from the hand gingerly petting his hair as his breathing hitched and a near-silent sob bubbled out of him. But…

He didn’t, as much as that part of him wanted to… he sank back into the comfort that was so freely given to him.

Why did kindness hurt just as much as cruelness? 

“It’s okay,” That gentle voice murmured again, “We both knew that this wouldn’t be easy, writing a goodbye letter is… very hard to do. It involves a lot of digging up old emotions and putting them on display for others to see, and that’s scary and hurtful for you. You’ve been hurt, and you have a lot to say.” A soft kiss pressed against the top of his head. “It’s okay Logan, you’re doing good.” 

Taking in a deep breath he nodded before leaning his head back enough to look back at the side that had come at the sign of his smallest discomfort. Janus’ mismatched eyes stared down at him with a sad kind of understanding, it was the kind of look that anytime before he understood would have made Logan very confused. But now… now he reached up, gingerly taking the hand that had resumed the petting of his hair and placed a tiny kiss on the palm. The tears on his cheeks hadn’t even dried as Janus swiped them away, the softness was unbelievably evident in just about everything that he did for Logan. 

“Thank you,” Logan whispered, his voice cracking with each word. “I’m okay, it’ll be tough to finally finish this… but I’ll be okay.” 

Janus’ eyes searched his for a long terse moment, before finally nodding.

Leaning down the dishonest side placed a simple kiss on the logical side’s forehead, the smell of his cologne lingering. “Okay,” He slowly began. “Be sure to take a break if you need to. Call me or Remus if necessary. He’s almost done completing your space in the imagination, just a few more hours and it’ll be fully complete.” A tiny smile lit up the serpentine side’s face, “He’s very excited to show it to you…” 

Oh, Logan was sure about that. Remus had spent the past few months creating blueprints for Logan’s new home ever since the logical side had brought up his idea of just leaving. At first… Logan had brought up the idea of leaving as a last resort, as in leaving the other sides as well as Thomas. Of just leaving the mindspace and never looking back, of finding his place in the real world even if he technically wouldn’t be able to survive as anything more than a phantom of a man. He had been prepared to make that sacrifice, even if it had meant that he could begin to feel better about where he was. 

It had really scared Remus and Janus when he had talked about it…

Apparently, he had been almost manic about the idea of it.

He wasn’t exactly in the best place back then, so their fear wasn’t exactly unwarranted.   

He’d even contemplated fading into the subconscious, and just becoming one of Thomas’ baser instincts. Still acting as logic, without being present and visible for him to be summoned at will. It had been a very tempting idea back then, but now… he had better plans, with a future that wouldn’t be nearly so painful as the past. 

“Yeah,” Logan smiled, his hand reaching up to card through Janus’ loose hair. “I can’t wait.” 

“This is goodbye, I am certain that I will miss all of you. It would be impossible for me not to miss any of you, I’ve grown up with you all and seen how you’ve all changed throughout the years. I will always hold a bit of fondness for you all. Patton, Virgil, and Roman. I love you all dearly so, but… I cannot continue. I cannot last how I have been, so this will likely be the last you ever hear of me. I will not show myself to Thomas, in fact, I will not be capable of being summoned. So for all intents and purposes… this is a final goodbye. So finally… Goodbye. Sincerely and with love, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders. For the last time.” 

With a sigh of relief, Logan neatly folded the letter that he had spent the better part of the week writing. Sealing it with a glob of hot wax, that Roman would most certainly find ironic, Logan sealed the letter before finally rising to take it to its final resting place where it would be found by the others in the morning. Rising up in the living room, he moved silently and quickly, he placed it on the kitchen counter that connected to the dining room. 

Most certain Patton would come in the morning and find it, he’d be the first to read it and thus the information would spread to the others as well. They would all know well before the morning had even begun.  

“Janus?” Logan softly called out as he rose back up into his bedroom, “Do you think it’s ready yet?” 

The excitement on the other side’s face told him everything that he needed to know as he extended his hand to the logical side. “Yeah,” Janus murmured softly, the warm smile on his face growing. “Are you ready to see your new home?” 

With a nod, Logan sank down with Janus.

Just to rise up to feel the warm sunshine on his face, and the sight of a homely cottage that had been made just for him well within in his sight. Remus had really outdone himself this time. The long grass tickled his feet, and the smell of wildflowers graced his nose, letting him know right away that place was safe for him and not a single thing would hurt him here. The babbling of the stream in the distance, and the swaying of the windchimes in the distance almost made Logan want to weep from the pure joy of it all.  

He was home. 

He was safe. 

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #logan angst #janus sanders #ts janus #ts janus sanders #intruloceit #remus mention #ts sides #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid (Part 2)

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

Notes: Violence, blood, gore, sexual inneundos

I didn't make a taglist for this story but I know @teamplutoforlife wanted to be tagged <3 And thank you @cheshirevalentine for editing

Part 1

Remus was falling, twisting onto his back as he plummeted towards the ground, the buildings around him nothing but a blur as he flew past. He could faintly hear the construction on the ground over the pounding of his own heart and the howling of the wind rushing past him, barely hearing the alarmed shouts of the workers watching him fall.

Virgil was nothing but a speck in the distance now, perched on the edge of the roof. Lifeless white eyes watched him fall, unfeeling and still.

Pain exploded in Remus’s back as he slammed into something sharp, legs hitting the ground when he finally stopped falling. He could just barely make out the rusty, blood stained spike in front of him, poking through his chest from his back where he'd fallen, blood pooling around the wound and into his suit.

-

“Hey.”

Remus jumped so hard he nearly fell off the roof, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his gun as he whirled around to face whoever the fuck was stupid enough to sneak up on him.

Spiderman was perched beside him, apparently fine after his near death experience last night, and holding… a pizza box?

“Hey,” Remus said carefully. “What the fuck?”

Spiderman shrugged and held out the box in his hand. “I have pizza. You asked for pizza.”

Remus stared for a moment, frozen where he stood with his hand hovering over his gun, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “You… actually brought it?”

“Yeah?” Spiderman said, like he didn’t understand how this was in any way strange. “Oh did you… were you joking? Did you not actually want it, or—”

“No, I did.” Remus stayed right where he was. What the hell was this? Was this a prank? Was he being pranked?

“Then… here,” Spiderman said. He held out the pizza box, close enough for Remus to cautiously take. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got cheese. But cheese is good. Everyone likes cheese.”

Holy shit. Spiderman was a dweeb.

Remus carefully opened the pizza box, and when there wasn’t a bomb or some kind of spider-themed booby trap inside, just a freshly baked cheese pizza from some local place he’d vaguely heard of, Remus let his shoulders relax and barked out a laugh.

“Well shit,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Webs.”

Spidey was shuffling a bit, looking ridiculously awkward, and Remus was suddenly reminded that they were both just… people under their masks. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Remus hesitated, because he hadn’t been kidding about Spiderman owing him a pizza he just… hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. There was no way Remus was eating all of it on his own, he barely ate much as it was.

“Do you, like…” he paused, wondering if this was going to get him punched or laughed at. “Do you want a slice?”

Spiderman actually startled, like him being asked to lunch was just as rare as Remus asking someone to lunch. Jeez, he’d have figured people begged Spiderman to eat with them all the time.

“I, uh… I bought it for you, so—”

“Yeah, and I’m offering. Christ, do you want some pizza or not?”

Spidey still hesitated, and while it was annoying as hell Remus supposed he’d be a hypocrite to judge when he’d been half convinced there was a bomb in the pizza box two minutes ago.

Well, it wasn’t like it would have been the first time.

“Uh, sure,” Spiderman said, still visibly wary. “Thank you.”

Remus ignored him in favor of opening the pizza box and setting it down, motioning for the vigilante to take as much as he wanted.

It wasn’t until Spidey turned away slightly to hook his fingers under the bottom of his mask that Remus remembered- duh- they both had to pull up their masks to eat.

It wasn’t a problem, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to risk exposing their faces to each other, but Remus really wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. A glance at his jaw might ruin Spiderman’s lunch.

“I’m not looking,” Spidey said, and Remus realized he’d been hesitating for a few too many seconds. “I can go, if you don’t wanna pull up your mask around anyone.”

Remus waved him off, even as he continued to fiddle with the leather. “I’ve got some scars, is all. Like… a lot. People think they’re gross.”

“Oh,” Spiderman said, and then simply shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t care. Scars happen, dude. I’ve got a bunch.”

Remus still hesitated, a little caught off guard from Spiderman calling him ‘dude' while so nonchalantly eating his pizza just a few feet away, but he quickly pulled himself together and tugged his leather mask up just below his nose.

It was just a few inches of skin, and still enough to reveal a handful of scars littered across his jaw, and the one that stretched down from his cheek.

Spidey barely glanced at him, which Remus guessed he should have seen coming. It’d be a little out of character for New York’s hero to be an asshole about someone’s scars, but you never knew with heroes. Some of them were pretentious assholes.

They ate their pizza like common civilians, perched on their rooftop and watching the people of New York mingle below.

Remus barely ate two slices. He didn’t really eat much to begin with, and it was far more entertaining to watch in silent awe as Spiderman easily finished the rest of the box. The hero was a good two heads shorter than Remus, and looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d think the guy never ate at all.

“My metabolism is different,” he explained sheepishly when he caught Reus staring. “I eat more than… you know. You. Regular people.”

Remus scoffed, because this was definitely the first time anyone had described him as a ‘regular person’ but he let it slide with an eye roll and a thanks for lunch.

They parted ways, and Remus let himself relax at the thought of having one less enemy roaming New York.

Remus hadn’t meant to start hanging out with Spiderman.

Really, he hadn’t. The impromptu pizza date was supposed to be the end of it, just a slightly awkward peace offering that made it clear neither of them would actively try to kill each other in the near future.

Remus had saved Spiderman because he was bored, and Spiderman had bought him a pizza. That was all.

But then less than a week later Spiderman had swung (literally) by with takeout- coincidentally from Remus’s favorite place a few blocks away- and Remus hadn’t been able to say no to sharing.

They’d shared a meal together three times in the last two weeks, and Remus was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.

It probably wasn’t helping that Remus had started carrying snacks on him.

Remus wasn’t going to eat them himself, and Spiderman was always complaining about how hungry he was, so he’d just started keeping packets of gummies or granola for when he saw the hero swinging past. Chucking them at his head was good target practice, anyway.

That didn’t mean they were friends. Remus didn’t have friends, because being friends with Deadpool was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could ever have.

Remus had seen what happens when people get close to him. He wasn’t going to go through that again.

Apparently, Spiderman had other ideas.

It had been just another fight that Remus had happened to run into, watching for a moment as Spiderman took down what was probably his third armed robbery of the day.

He knew he probably could have just continued on his way and gotten lunch, but there were five of them, all armed, and Remus didn’t feel great about those odds despite Spidey’s reputation.

So Remus had decided to return the favor, Spiderman had introduced himself by butting into Deadpool's fight after all, and stepped in to finish the job twice as fast.

And it had gone fine. Spiderman had greeted him with stupidly cheeky finger guns and unfortunately insisted they keep all of them alive, which wasn’t Remus’s specialty but he’d manage.

It had been easy, some druggie civilians no match for New York’s hero and the merc with a mouth, three of them encased in webbing within two minutes, another on the ground with a bullet in his knee.

It had been fine, until Remus was shot in the chest.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t a big deal. He was shot in the chest all the time. It’d be a hassle if he didn’t get the bullet out before his skin healed around it, but it wasn’t like he could die.

It occurred to him a bit too late that he had forgotten to tell Spiderman that.

“No!”

The raw panic and emotion In Spidey’s voice caught Remus off guard as he stumbled backwards, pain he was unfortunately used to by now exploding in his chest as the bullet met its mark. There had been a fifth goon, hiding out and biding his time, which would have been a great plan if it didn’t end with a face of webs and a swift punch to the temple.

Remus lowered himself to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, dark crimson blood pooling around his hand and flooding through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Spiderman was rushing over, and Remus could practically feel the worry behind that lifeless mask. He skidded to a stop and dropped to a crouch, hands hovering, frantic and unsure.

And maybe Remus was just an asshole, but this was fucking hilarious.

“Deadpool?” Spidey called, the vigilante leaning over him as Remus dropped to lay on his back. “Jesus- hang in there okay? You’ll be fine.”

Remus forced himself to cough, wet and ragged, biting back a smile. “This is it for me, Webs. I can see the light.”

“Deadpool shut the fuck up!”

“Everything’s getting dark—”

“I said shut up,” Spiderman snapped, and Remus gasped involuntarily, arching his back when gloved hands pressed down on the wound. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re… just- just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

Remus coughed again to hide a smile, blood splattering his chin, closing his eyes anyway and letting his head fall back on the concrete. He stopped listening to Spidey’s rambling, committing to the bit of playing dead- very obviously playing dead, for the record. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and everything, waiting for Spiderman to catch on and tell him off.

“No!” Except Spidey still sounded genuinely distressed, only pressing harder on the wound. “No, no, no! Deadpool! Wake up!”

Well. This wasn’t any fun if Spiderman was too panicked to even pay attention. He sighed, opening his eyes again to sit up slightly and whack the vigilante’s shoulder.

“I can’t die, stupid,” he said, grinning when Spiderman scrambled back. “Cut it out. I’ve just gotta get the bullet out so it doesn’t heal around it. Those things hurt like a bitch, so—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, because there were lots of things wrong with him and he had a list at the ready. But he didn’t get the chance because suddenly Spidey was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him close, probably getting blood all over his suit.

Haha, what the fuck?

“You’re such a bitch,” Spiderman said, muffled since his face was practically buried in Remus’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Remus asked, burying his shock. “That’s so sweet, Spidey.”

“Shut the hell up,” Spiderman growled. “I thought you were going to die.”

“You were so worried! It was so cute, oh my god!”

Spiderman finally pulled back, only to rear back and punch Remus square in the shoulder. Hard.

Remus barked out a laugh, now nursing two injuries. “Fucking- ow. I still feel pain.”

“Sucks.”

Remus crossed his arms, wincing when it pulled at the bullet wound still in his chest. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Spiderman asked, incredulous. “You thought it would be funny to play dead!”

“To be fair,” Remus argued. “It was funny.”

“No it wasn’t!”

Remus shrugged, already turning his attention to the bullet in his chest. “If you had known it would be funny.”

“Well I didn’t,” he said, the mask’s white eyes glued to Remus’s hands. “I thought you were dying.”

“I can’t die,” Remus said. “That’s not a joke, Webs. I don’t just regenerate fast, I can’t be killed.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Remus shrugged, a little put off because this was not how he’d expected this to go. Damn Spiderman and his stupid savior complex.

He turned his attention back to the bullet wound, the pain already faded to a familiar numbness, but two gloved hands grabbed his wrists before he could start digging around for the bullet.

“Here,” he said, obnoxiously soft. “I’ve got it, let me help.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Remus said, tensing against his will at the thought of someone else caring for a wound. “It’s not too deep, I can get it.”

“Are your gloves clean?”

He took a minute to consider that, calculating the swords he’d been holding, the gun he’d reloaded that morning, coming up blank when he tried to think of the last time he’d properly cleaned any of his weapons. Not to mention he had to climb buildings with his hands, lacking Spidey’s abilities to walk up walls and propel himself across the city in seconds.

“Probably,” he lied. “What am I gonna do, get sick?”

Spiderman hesitated. “Do you do that?”

“No.”

“I can still get it,” Spidey said. “Let me help.”

Remus scoffed, trying to cover up his own uneasiness. “You wanna stick your hand in there? You know it’s gross, right?”

“I know how to remove a bullet, Deadpool,” Spiderman said. “I’ve gotten shot before, I can get it.”

There was no reason not to drop his arms and let Spiderman do what he wanted. The asshole was stubborn, but he obviously meant well. With how shaky Remus’s hands were, Spidey getting the bullet out would probably be quicker anyway.

And he was the city’s hero. He’d made it clear he didn’t mean Deadpool any harm, especially not when the Merc had so graciously dropped in to save his ass today.

Remus didn’t know why it was so hard to just relax.

“This is dumb,” he said, wondering if he could annoy Spidey into giving up. “I can handle it fine.”

“I know,” the vigilante said. “But I want to help. It’s like...returning the favor or whatever.”

Remus sighed, a little shaky now, but reluctantly nodded. The longer they argued, the faster the skin would heal over the bullet still lodged in his chest, and Remus would really like to avoid that happening. Again.

“Fine,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

Under the mask, Remus was sure Spiderman was smirking at him. “Look who’s talking.”

Remus hadn’t expected Spiderman to be so gentle. He was digging a bullet wound out of Deadpool’s chest, there wasn’t really a way to make this a pleasant experience, but Spidey was taking his time, moving carefully as he dug into the wound.

“Could you hurry up?” Remus growled, teeth clenched. This would have been over in seconds if he was doing it himself. It was so much easier to just stick his hand in the wound, dig around for a second, and rip the bullet out. “I’m not exactly a fan of having someone else’s fingers in my chest.”

Spiderman didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I got shot,” Remus snapped. “We’re well past that.”

Spidey didn’t respond after that and Remus for once stayed quiet to let him concentrate, breathing heavily to try to ignore the panic that came with being vulnerable like this. The vigilante couldn’t kill him, but he sure as hell could cause him a shit ton of pain.

But he wouldn’t. Remus had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t. Spiderman was insufferably good- he wouldn’t kick someone while they were down.

Eventually Spiderman’s fingers found the bullet and Remus gasped, forcing himself to shove the pain away and make a lewd sounding moan when Spidey’s fingers left the wound.

“Jesus,” Spiderman muttered, and Remus laughed when he tossed the bullet dripping in dark blood to the side. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus said, and he was. Physically at least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone, let alone had someone willing to help patch him up. “See? All good. It’s already healing itself.”

True to his word, Remus’s chest was fusing itself back together, skin closing up over the still bleeding wound, the rest of the pain fading to a background throb. It’d be like nothing ever happened in ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” Spiderman muttered, leaning in close to watch. Remus tensed uncomfortably. “That’s...fucking wild.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Remus brushed it off, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the way Spidey moved to try and help. “Anyways. Are there any more fights you need me to hold your hand through, or can I go take a nap?”

“Oh please,” Spidey scoffed. “I was fine. All you did was get in the way and get shot.”

“I saved your ass,” Remus retorted, smiling behind the leather mask. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me, Webs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spiderman mumbled, but Remus was willing to bet money he was smiling too. “Go take your nap, Deadpool.”

Remus gave a mock salute, sheathing his sword and turning away from the remnants of the battle and starting for his apartment.

Maybe Spidey wasn’t so bad after all.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #spiderman virgil #deadpool remus #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #violence tw #blood tw #gun tw #injury tw #writing #fanfiction #spiderman #deadpool #dukexiety

[wonder-womans-ex]

One Word Answer

Luke won’t even try to deny it—he’s fighting back tears as he pushes the screen door open. The house is so silent he thinks it might be empty, and, quite honestly, that’s probably for the best. If he tries to talk to anyone right now, he actually is going to start crying. 

All he wants is to curl up on the Lupins’ sofa and think about whatever the fuck it was he did wrong; whatever he did to deserve this. 

But he has no such luck. 

The instant he enters the living room, he’s met by an onslaught of noise. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the smiling faces of his friends—James, Remus, Sirius, Logan, Leo, Finn; he even thinks he might see Lily in the corner—are there to greet him. Remus approaches first, and presses a glass of champagne into his hands. 

He passes it right back, and the noise stills, and Remus’s face falls slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Obviously something’s wrong.” 

Luke sighs. “Just forget it.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Forget this.” He gestures around them, at the people, the decorations, the alcohol. “There’s no point.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Isn’t Remus supposed to be the smart one? Is he really going to make Luke say it? “He said no, Remus.”

If the room was quiet before, now it’s unbelievably so; painfully so. “He said no,” he says again, this time more to himself. 

He barely feels himself slump against the doorframe, sliding down to the floor with a slight thump. His head falls to the side, and he squeezes his eyes closed in one final attempt to stop the tears. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though it feels, in a way, like he’s dreaming; he hears Remus’s voice, determined and far, far too loud: “Okay, everyone out. He needs… he needs.”

There follows the all-encompassing silence of a party ended too soon. Footsteps pass by him, going out into the hall, but Luke doesn’t have the energy to try to put gaits to faces and faces to names. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything but sit there and feel the uncomfortable warmth of his tears spill from his eyes and trail down his cheeks. 

“I’ll go,” he hears Sirius say, once there’s no one left but the three of them, “and talk to…” he trails off, perhaps not saying the name for fear of it killing Luke just a little more inside, but it does nothing to help. All he can think of is hazel eyes and blond curls and gold, gold, gold. 

And then it’s just them there: Luke, who needs to be comforted, and Remus, who hasn’t had to comfort him in so long that he’s forgotten how to—or maybe he never knew at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. 

“Don’t be.”

For the first time since it happened, Luke opens his fist. He opens his eyes, too, and he stares at the glint of metal. He bought the ring so long ago; he spent hours deliberating, trying to find the perfect one, and now it seems it doesn’t matter after all. 

“He said no,” he whispers again, and this time it feels, even to him, like he’s just trying to convince himself of that. He looks up, meeting Remus’s gaze, and he brings his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball, into a defense mechanism, and buries his face in his hands. “I love him.”

“I know.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t know!” This—this anger isn’t like him. Or, well, it is like him—it’s how he was before the treasure, when they were just Gods and Hollows. It’s how he was before Saint. 

He feels one of Remus’s hands grasp his, and he thinks of all the times they tried so hard to be in love. For years, they thought that it had to be each other; that they would never have anyone else. But it never worked out, because Remus needed Sirius—brave, easy Sirius—and Luke needed Saint. 

Saint who was harsh like ice and warm like sunlight. Saint who loved like he fought. 

Saint who said no. 

Gently, Remus pries the ring out of his hand. He hears the click as it’s set down on the floor beside them, and he lets himself be enveloped in the arms of the boy who was his only friend in the world for so very long. 

*

The apartment is empty when Luke gets back. The lights are off; the door is locked; Saint’s wallet is still on the counter here he left it. He wonders where Saint is. He wonders if Saint is going to come back. 

He wonders whether he wants him to. 

Well, that’s not quite right. Of course he wants Saint to come back. What he’s not so sure about is whether he wants Saint to acknowledge any of this. 

He’s been hurt in a way he didn’t know he could be hurt. He has his defenses—he always has—and he took them down for the boy who was somehow both wild dreams and harsh reality all at once. For the first time in his life, he saw he was falling in love, and he let himself. He had no idea that that love would ever—could ever—destroy him in the way it is now. 

Saint loves him. Luke knows this. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have pretended to, because while Saint is a good liar, he is not a happy one. He’s lived far too much of his life surrounded by half-truths, and he would never willingly do something that would hurt himself. 

Hurting other people, yes. But Saint is not self-destructive. He’s just reckless. 

Luke sets his keys down on the coffee table. He stares at the sofa—the sofa he and Saint bought together—and he clenches his jaw. His fist flies, practically of its own accord, into one of the couch cushions, and he feels his anger hit boiling point. 

Just as quickly, it cools. 

He’s not so much mad at Saint as he is mad at himself for wanting to be mad at Saint. He’s always known himself to be a paradox, and now, here, in the semi-darkness of the place he calls home, he finally understands that now is no exception. 

When he enters the bedroom, he reaches out blindly with one hand for the light switch. To an outsider, it would seem like nothing has changed at all, but in reality, Luke’s entire world has been flipped on its head. It feels like it, anyway. 

He goes through the motions. He brushes his teeth; he changes into his pajamas; but all the while he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

Climbing into bed and smelling the briny tang of salt water that Saint always carries with him is what finally tips him off the edge. He becomes lost in the memory of this afternoon, and it’s like Crucio all over again; he’s drowning in the past and the present and the future—

“Do you recognize this place?” Luke asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Of course.” 

The sun shines off Saint’s hair, bright and beautiful, and Luke tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It’s natural—they’ve said it a hundred thousand times by now, and, as Luke squeezes the ring he’s holding, he hopes beyond hope they’ll be able to say it a hundred thousand more. 

“Saint?” 

When Saint turns around, his eyes go wide. Luke tries to keep his balance—his jeans are already damp at the knee from the still-dewy grass, and the faint warmth of the noonday sun does nothing to calm his nerves. His breath shakes; he almost drops the ring as he holds it out. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to smile. Inhale, exhale, he tells himself, and starts over again. 

“I think you know why I’ve brought you here, but I’m going to say it anyway. 

“This place, right here, is where we were when I finally fell in love with you. Sure, I’d been falling for a long time, but it was here that I hit rock bottom and realized I wanted to stay there.” 

Saint must know where this is going. There’s no way he doesn’t. But his expression is unreadable, and Luke has to force himself to look away in order to keep going. 

“I love you, Saint. I have for so long it scares me to think about and I will for the rest of time. You mean the world to me—I hope you know that. You are, without a doubt, my everything, and I want more than anything for you to remain my everything forever. 

“You’ve spent years without a last name that truly feels like home. What I’m offering now, what I’m laying my heart bear in the hopes of, is that you can take mine. Will you—” he swallows, finally focusing his gaze; finally meeting Saint’s eyes, “—will you marry me?”

It’s like time has forgotten where it was going before—or perhaps even that it was ever going anywhere at all. Luke waits, biting his lip and trying not to smile, for an answer.

Saint turns his head away; he’s looking at something in the distance. His fingers are twitching ever so slightly at his side, and Luke’s heart falters. 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Saint, still looking away, and Luke doesn’t need to hear any more. It’s as if someone has taken an axe to the very fibre of his being; his dreams of the future are being chipped away at in front of his very eyes. 

Luke clears his throat. “Right.” He stands up, and his leg hurts like a bitch from kneeling, but he won’t say anything. The last thing he can do right now is show weakness. The last thing he can do is prove to Saint that he, Luke Deveaux, isn’t worth it. 

“Wait,” Saint calls after him when he turns to go, but Luke isn’t listening. Of course Saint has his excuses, and, knowing Saint, they’re probably damn good ones, too, but he doesn’t want to hear them. Not now, when the chasm down the centre of his heart is still fresh and bleeding. Not now, when it hurts to take even a single step away from the man he loves, but he has to anyway. 

Maybe not ever. 

Luke isn’t asleep. He’s caught in the half-place—the place you go when you’re not there, not yet, but you aren’t quite here, either. So he feels the mattress dip beside him, and he feels the breath on the back of his neck, and he feels the hand curl protectively over his waist. He hears Saint say “I’m sorry,” in that quiet, desperately painful voice he has. 

“You’re not,” he says into the silence, and he waits. 

“I am,” Saint tells him. “I really am. I’m sorry I can’t want that. I’m sorry I can’t be that. I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

The last part is raw and full of emotion, and it would kill Luke completely if he was to say anything but “You are enough.”

“Not for you, I’m not.”

He still doesn’t turn over to face Saint—he’s not ready for that—but he lets himself relax slightly into his arms. “You are. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. Sometimes—sometimes I think you might be a little too much, actually.”

Saint’s other hand slots quietly over his. It makes his breath catch in his throat, but he can feel, in the thrum, the ever-constant ebb and flow of Saint’s very being, that it makes all of this so much easier. 

“What I wanted to say,” Saint starts—tentatively, as if he’s scared that at any moment Luke is going to decide he doesn’t want to hear it—“earlier today, is that I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve never wanted a wedding and a certificate and a house and a family and honey, I’m home. That’s… that’s not for me. 

“The way I see it, marriage is an anchor. It’s there to make sure you never stray. It’s a choice you make once, and it’s a choice that stays with you forever.”

Exactly, Luke thinks, but he says nothing. 

“What I want—what I’ve always wanted, I just never thought it was within any realm of possibility until I fell in love with you—is a hundred choices. I want freedom in the fact that there isn’t really freedom at all. I want two boats, floating freely, that always find their way back to each other. I want to wake up next to you every morning knowing that I could leave if I wanted to but make the choice not to. 

“And I know that’s not what you want. But I can’t make myself play happy families because the truth of it is that that isn’t me. I’m a wanderer. I want a reason to stay in one place, not a rule to keep me there. I’m sorry.” 

He can feel Saint’s mouth moving against the place where his spine meets the cords of his neck. He can feel Saint’s tears, but it’s okay, because he’s crying, too. 

“No.” His voice is far too loud for the weighted silence of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to make you choose between yourself and me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I don’t want marriage; I want you. I want you in your entirety; I want you in your all-encompassing happiness. That’s all I want. I want what you can give me—nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, Luke turns over onto his back. Saint immediately tucks his face into the space between Luke’s shoulder and neck, and this, this feels right. 

“I love you,” Saint whispers. “I’ll always love you.”

“And I you.”

Saint laughs, a quiet noise that sounds like it’s half sob, as well. “And I tried to want that. I really did. At the wedding, I looked at you in that suit and I tried so hard to imagine if that was, well, us.”

“But you couldn’t.” As he says it, Luke presses a kiss to the crown of Saint’s head—the curls tickle his nose, and he closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself just be. 

“I couldn’t. And I thought that was okay, because I never even considered that you could love me enough to… to want that with me.”

Luke pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow and creating enough space between them for him to look Saint in the eyes. They haven’t properly looked at each other since this afternoon, but that particular shade of hazel is all Luke has been able to think about. “It has nothing to do with how much I want you,” he says, and then he realizes how that sounds. “Or, rather, it is no indicator of how much I want you. It’s like you said—marriage is like an anchor. Sure, I haven’t always wanted that anchor, but that doesn’t change the fact that, anchor or no, I’ve always known, somewhere, that I’ll never let us drift apart.”

There are a few moments where they simply stare at each other. Luke runs his tongue along the edges of his teeth, pressing it into the sharpness of his canines just to feel something. Then Saint smiles that half-smile of his—the one he only ever wears when he and Luke are alone—and reaches up to cup Luke’s cheek in his palm. 

“Fucking hell, Tweedle,” he says, in a soft, gentle voice that doesn’t at all match the words coming out of his mouth, “that might be the sappiest shit I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Luke rolls his eyes and grins. He leans down, brushing his mouth against Saint’s. Their lips are barely touching, but, even so, Luke feels himself smile into the kiss. He’s at home here. 

“You know,” Saint says later, when they’re simply lying in the dark, Luke’s head resting on Saint’s chest and one of Saint’s fingers tracing circles in Luke’s back, “there is one downside to the whole ‘not getting married’ plan.”

Luke wonders if he’s walking into a trap. “What’s that?”

“The last name thing.” 

“Mm hmm.” Luke yawns. “Saint Deveaux does have a nice ring to it.”

“That it does.”

There’s another minute or two of comfortable silence, before Luke speaks up again. “And the second thing?”

“The second—oh.” Saint waits half a second before, “No divorce jokes.”

Luke laughs despite himself, relishing in the way Saint’s chest moves as he laughs, too. Saint, he knows now, is his choice. Saint is everything. Saint is home.

Saint is forever. 

characters are by the incredible @lumosinlove

thanks to @im-oknutzy-trash for betaing

#st. tweedle #luke deveaux #saint #relic keel lumosinlove #angst with a happy ending #the author projects their own insecurities about marriage onto fictional characters #luke x saint #idk what to tag this #wolfstar are married in this btw #yes I did extensive research on economy and real estate pricing before realizing that it doesn't matter because this is relic keel #so they've all got pirate treasure #and are hence loaded

[j-amespotter]

★ the last great american dynasty - s. b.

“i had a marvelous time ruining everything.” 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle-born!Reader 

x. x. x.

Summary: A one-shot diving into Sirius’s complicated relationship with Grimmauld Place and where the Muggle-born he falls for fits in.

Genre/Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, alcohol, language, mentions of death & war 

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so.. this is more of a character study on sirius & his dynamic with his family – i know this song is meant to be about a woman but it also screams sirius to me. i’m a sucker for romance so it’s a reader-insert. fun fact, i was almost done writing this when i realized i wanted it to be a wolfstar fic, but i was too lazy to change it, so just putting that out as a concept lol. let me know what you think & if you’d like me to tag you in future works!! 

masterlist

When Sirius first showed signs of his rebellious nature, Walburga wasn’t worried. After all, many children were incapable of sitting still in large gatherings, mouthing off to their parents, or incessantly teasing their younger siblings. “He will be kept in good company. He will learn,” Walburga would say to her husband. He often exasperated her, but there was no denying her immense pride. Despite his antics, even at a young age, Sirius displayed impressive magical ability and had a commanding presence – excellent qualities for the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. 

She worried only a little when he preferred to spend time with Andromeda, who was clearly becoming disillusioned with their family values, and Alphard, who Walburga believed was beginning to get a little too soft. Still, the Blacks were not raving lunatics. They were traditionalists, committed to upholding the high standards of Wizarding society. Sirius would not defy them, not when the weight of their bloodline rested on his shoulders, not when Regulus would never be able to stomach such responsibility.

On his first night at Hogwarts, Sirius didn't write home. It wasn’t until the morning after that Narcissa delivered the dreadful news to her mother. Walburga’s sister-in-law relished discussing this most recent embarrassment, as the family’s attention was now off her daughter’s courtship of a mudblood. Young Sirius, their direct heir, was sorted into the House of Muggle-lovers and blood traitors, into the House of Godric Gryffindor.

Blown apart by this development, Walburga turned to her younger son. She had no intention of repeating her mistakes and resolved to train him for the responsibility that should have belonged to her eldest. That way, if she was unable to correct Sirius’s behavior, she had back-up. Her legacy was secure. 

During every subsequent holiday, she noticed that the damage was getting more-and-more irreversible. Sirius unabashedly consorted with infamous blood traitors and pathetic half-bloods. He seemed to dread seeing his family as much as she dreaded seeing how much of him she had lost. She tried; no one could say she didn’t. But she was too stern with him. He had inherited his flexibility, or lack thereof, from her. She pushed him too far away. Soon, he stopped returning home for Christmas. When he was sixteen, she spat at him as he closed the door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place one last time, without sparing her a final glance. 

He never expected he would have to return. Offering up the property to the Order seemed like a good idea at the time – he hardly put any thought into it. That was how he made most of his decisions. His track record certainly proved so. When Remus didn’t have anywhere to stay, and neither did the newly-reformed Order of the Phoenix, Sirius knew that his family estate in London was not just their most ideal option, but also the only one they had. 

He managed to enter undetected in his Animagus form with Remus. He had to hand it to fate – there were no extra security measures to keep him out. It was as if she anticipated his arrival. Swallowing, he absorbed his surroundings. Despite the eerie silence and decomposing furniture, it looked like an image straight from his memory. Sirius suddenly felt sixteen again. 

What he did not expect to see, however, was a currently-sleeping life-sized portrait of Walburga Black in the hallway. Though now in his human form, Sirius growled inadvertently. She knew. She always knew that he would come back. She wanted to be there when he did. Unbelievable, he thought to himself. 

Aware of Remus’s wary gaze on him, Sirius walked forward and began pulling on the frame. “Get off, you hag! Remus, help me get this off!” 

Remus went to join his old friend in what seemed like a fruitless mission in his mind but came to an abrupt halt when the portrait, disturbed by her son’s grunts, awoke in a flash of fury. “Filth! Scum! Abomination of my flesh! You are no son of mine,” portrait-Walburga hissed. 

“Shut up, just shut up!” He had not heard her voice since he was near a Dementor, reliving the worst of his teenage years. The visual made it much, much worse. 

“Permanent Sticking Charm, it seems…” Remus said to appease his friend, pulling the withering velvet curtains over its towering frame with all his strength.

“This is torture,” sighed Sirius. “Maybe we can find another place.” 

Remus refused to meet his eye. “For now, it is all we have, Sirius. If it was going to be a problem, you should not have offered it to Professor Dumbledore.” 

Sirius frowned. “It’s all I’m able to do this time around. It’s not like I can go around trailing Death Eaters and infiltrating the Ministry with everyone else.”

“Hopefully, it’s only temporary,” assured Remus, though he was equally as uncertain about Sirius’s fate as a fugitive. “Try not to let this place get into your head, okay?” 

Sirius Black was never good at keeping promises. He had three-and-a-half decades of evidence to back that up. In the weeks following, the Order settled in, consisting of many highly competent Aurors, half-a-dozen Weasleys, and an ex-Death Eater he could do without seeing. Sirius found himself never too far from alcohol, itching for more access. He longed to see Harry and to get away from his wretched house-elf, along with the constant, stinging reminder of his mother's existence. 

But there was something else inside of him, something he couldn’t describe. It was an emotion that was egging him on. He felt it inside of him every time Kreacher muttered complaints about wandering red-headed blood traitor brats. It swirled in his stomach when his mother shouted scathing insults at the clumsy half-blood and filthy half-breed that took temporary refuge in the former pure-blood paradise. 

Then she came. 

She was new. She worked at the Ministry; many of his houseguests were incredibly fond of her. He recognized the innocence in her eyes. It was the same innocence that he had when he first joined the Order seventeen years earlier. It was the same innocence that differentiated every new member from every returning one – they had yet to see tragedy in its fullest form. 

“Hello,” she greeted. She seemed strangely unperturbed by the fact that she was in the presence of an alleged mass murderer. “I’m (Y/N). I’ve been told this is your house. Thank you for playing host.”

“My pleasure,” responded Sirius. Involuntarily, he reached for her hand and kissed it. Suddenly, he became painfully aware of his hollowing cheeks, untamed hair, and liquor-infused breath.

She flushed slightly at the gesture. Black family habits die hard. Just because he chose to refrain from practicing them did not mean he had forgotten, nor did it mean that he wasn’t any good at them. 

Walburga Black’s portrait watched her son fall in love with her. Sirius watched her watch him. There was no telling how she would react. Regulus was dead – it was up to him to preserve their family’s name and purity.

(Y/N) was witty and flirty and incredibly intelligent. He found himself feeling a decade younger as he enjoyed their banter and her overall easiness. Before long, she kissed him in his dimly-lit pantry, and he was too selfish to stop her. They would kiss in every corner of the house, hardly caring that anyone was watching, ignoring the ghosts living within the walls. For Sirius, (Y/N) was his greatest act of defiance. She was born to non-magic parents. As narrated by a disgruntled Kreacher to his now-helpless mistress, she was nothing but a “filthy mudblood.” 

One night, weeks after the children departed for Hogwarts and the house was, as on most days, empty, he caught her staring at the Black family tapestry. Without making a sound, he inched behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on her shoulder. “Sickle for your thoughts?” 

She leaned into him. As the days went on, she would tire easily. Still, she found happiness in Sirius as he did with her, and they both were old enough to know to reach for it in any capacity they got. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Let’s get to bed.” 

“As much as I’m a fan of that idea,” he started with a smirk, “you look upset. Is it work? Fudge?” 

“No, nothing like that.” Her fingers traced his blasted name on the wall. She looked thoughtful. “I’ve just… noticed something about you.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“The way you look at your mother.” 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s no secret that I hate her. I hope that’s not off-putting. You’ve seen what she’s like – it was worse when she was alive. I promise I’m a gentleman in general circumstances… for the most part,” he added cheekily. 

She smiled tightly. “No, I get it. It must be terrible for you, being back here.” 

“It is,” he affirmed. “I’ve got you, though. You make me happier than anything, love.” 

“That’s the thing,” she uttered as if it pained her. Sirius could stare at her fiery expression for days on end. To be on the receiving end was strange. “I can’t help but think that you’re only in love with me to spite her. Like your feelings aren’t love, they’re just a culmination of your hatred for her.” 

It took Sirius an eternity to process what she just said. Realizing that he was not going to say anything, she continued. “Believe me, I know you hate it here. But at the same time, you look so… satisfied. You’re hosting a bunch of blood traitors, half-bloods, and a werewolf in this place that was once the pinnacle of blood purity. You’re providing a haven against the bloody Dark Lord. And worst of all, you’re with a mudblood.” 

“Don’t call yourself that,” interrupted Sirius harshly. 

“It’s the truth. If you weren’t in this position, would we even be together?” 

“Of course,” said Sirius. To answer this question, he didn’t even have to think. “I love you because you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and make me laugh until my stomach hurts. You’re so good with Harry and you can put anyone in their place. You make me feel new again… God, that’s fucking sappy, but it’s true. I indeed hate this place and I hate her but… but if I let her dictate my choices, even when she’s bloody dead, then she’s won. I don’t want her to win. If I was only with you for your blood status, then I would be no different from my mother.” 

She stared up at him, her eyes betraying a wave of emotions. She reached up to kiss him, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Thank you for saying all of that. Just hold on for a little while, alright? Soon, we’ll be out of here. We can have our own house – you, me, and Harry.” 

He smiled at her sadly. It seemed too unreachable of a goal to him at the moment. “By the beach?” “Wherever you’d like,” she answered, leading him to his bedroom, his only sanctuary in the horrible house. 

As they made their way towards the stairs, Sirius glanced at the tapestry over his shoulder, at the seven generations of Blacks behind him. He gently squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. For the first time in his entire life, he felt the weight of carrying his name lift off him. He’d done his part to corrupt his bloodline. It was time for Sirius to focus on himself in a way that the shadows of his past never allowed him to, even in his schoolboy days with James. Being a Black was a part of who he was, and even a disowned Black deserved his long-overdue happiness.

Tagging: @strawberriesonsummer​

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x fem!reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter songfic #sirius x reader #folklore x hp is always everything #folklore x marauders #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius black songfic #sirius black x y/n #sirius black/y/n #sirius x y/n #sirius/reader #sirius/y/n #post-azkaban!sirius #post-azkaban!sirius black x reader #post-azkaban!sirius x reader #post-azkaban

[xomarauders]

posted this on ao3 awhile back and had a hard time getting tumblr to upload it, but it finally worked so here you go

content warning for referenced child abuse

~

The warmth of summer filtered through the window, casting rays of sunshine across the floor of James Potter’s bedroom carpet where Remus was splayed out, tracing patterns into the ridiculously soft material. He was sure that James charmed it to keep it so fluffy, otherwise it would not have survived the footfalls of four, rowdy boys that found refuge here during the summer. It used to be only the three of them—James, Remus, and Peter, that is—until Sirius was able to join permanently halfway through the summer season. His parents had never allowed for him to visit the Potter’s while he was still living under their roof, but now that the raven-haired boy had run away and was officially disowned, well, Remus was sure the carpet would have wilted under Padfoot’s grubby paws by now.

Either way, Remus was sure that there was nothing better than laying on James’ charmed carpet with his three best friends, listening to music from the record player—that had also been charmed to work without electricity—and chatting about whatever came to their minds. They were all sat on the floor aside from Sirius, who was perched in the window, smoking, and watching as the birds flew around outside. Remus smirked—the boy really was such a dog.

“It’s our last years at Hogwarts, boys,” James announced as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “what are we going to do once it’s all over?”

It was a question that held a lot of weight, depending on how you looked at it. What were they going to do as far as it came to pranks and leaving their legacy at Hogwarts or what were they going to do as soon as they graduated. Maybe get jobs, possibly go to university, more likely join the Order to fight a war they didn’t start. Remus didn’t care to think about any of these things. His future had been something he considered to be doomed since he was four years old and suddenly had to share his mind with a beast that tore apart his body every month. He had never even planned on having the life he had gotten—the chance to go to Hogwarts, to make friends…to fall in love.

He cast glance toward Sirius, whose own gray eyes were already looking to Remus, a thoughtful expression on his face. Remus grinned at him, tilting his head so that his curls fell into his eyes. Sirius smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d been smiling like that a lot, lately. Remus made a mental note to ask him about it later that night.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I have no idea what I’m going to do without all of you around,” Peter said.

“Don’t worry, mate,” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder, “you can’t get rid of us that easy! Marauders till the end, right?”

There was a certain admiration that Remus held for James Potter, the savior of the cursed and the damned. He had banded them all together; the timid boy, the broken werewolf, and the wayward heir to make a family. Remus would never be able to repay James for the unconditional love he’d shown him, but he was willing to try everyday for the rest of his life.

“Marauders till the end,’ Sirius repeated, extracting himself from the window as he put out his cigarette. He joined them on the floor, laying down next to Remus and pressing himself tightly against the other boy. Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius, partially out of habit and partially because it was what Sirius needed, something he was starved of. Touch had been something of a guessing game between the two of them ever since they started their relationship. Neither of them were quite used to being touched in such casual ways until they became friends with James—who was constantly giving out hugs like they were candy—and starting a relationship had made the concept even more confusing. Not only did they have to think about what sort of casual touching was okay for each of them, but now they had to factor in intimate contact. Kissing was okay, just as long as they were alone in the safety of Remus’ four poster bed or hidden in one of the various alcoves they had discovered while creating the Marauders Map. Remus thought it might even be okay here, in James’ bedroom, to sweetly kiss his boyfriend without fear of judgment or ridicule. Still, he let Sirius make those decisions, allowed him to initiate any sort of contact between them because while Remus’ aversion to touch stemmed from not being able to trust himself, Sirius’ came from not being able to trust others. He was easily spooked by any sort of sudden movement that came his way, a side effect of Walburga Black’s outstanding parenting skills, and no amount of James’ casual hugs or Remus’ gentle caresses have seemed to break him of this habit.

“What are you thinking about, Moons?” Sirius whispered. James and Peter were too busy arguing over which record to play next to notice their other two friends.

“You,” Remus said easily. Sirius blushed—an image Remus would never tire of seeing—and reached up with his slender fingers to brush away the curls that had fallen in Remus’ eyes.

“Me,” Sirius said, a hint of astonishment in his voice.

Remus wished Sirius wouldn’t sound so surprised at the idea of someone thinking of him. It hurt to know that Sirius did not quite value himself the same way Remus, James and Peter did and it was times like these where Remus wanted to meet Walburga and Orion Black in person just so he could give them a piece of his mind.

“Lads,” James said, throwing himself on top of them unceremoniously, “let’s head on downstairs. I think mum’s made dinner.”

The four of them trailed down the stairs, Sirius holding Remus’ hand while James raced ahead to slide down the railing. Fleamont was in the parlor, reading the newspaper and looking up as the boys made their presence known. He greeted them all, and asked James in a calm tone to perhaps not ride the staircase like a broomstick. James at least had the decency to turn red before assuring his dad it would never happen again (everyone knew it would). Euphemia was in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and her gray hair up in a knot on her head. Sirius leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and she gently reached out to him, not quite taking his face in her hands until she saw the smallest nod of permission.

“My darling,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears, “you look well.”

Remus knew what Euphemia was thinking about as she took in Sirius’ appearance. It was the same thing he had thought of over and over again as he laid in bed at night, his arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend in attempt to keep him safe from the nightmares that occupied his mind. The frail and beaten Sirius that had collapsed on the Potter’s doorstep those few weeks ago had been nursed back to health by the healing powers and carefulness of Euphemia Potter. Still, it was hard to get that image of Sirius lying half dead out of Remus’ mind. He could hardly imagine what it was like for Euphemia who had seen the worst of his injuries after shoving everyone else out of the room in order to heal him. James, Remus, and Peter had stayed up all night, waiting outside the spare bedroom door where they could hear Euphemia sobbing over Sirius’ sleeping form. Remus would rather have faced the full moon a hundred times instead of waiting those long three days for Sirius to wake up.

“Thanks, mum,” Sirius said. The four boys crowded around the kitchen table, eagerly reaching toward the various dishes Euphemia had spread about. Fleamont had joined them, sitting between his wife and Sirius. James immediately went for his mother’s main dish, filling his plate full before passing it to Peter, who was already nibbling on some naan. Remus loved Euphemia’s cooking. It was different than that of his mother’s—not that he would ever pass up his mam’s wonderful Sunday dinners—and he was happy to able to enjoy the different flavors offered whenever he visited. Euphemia always made far too much, making sure that everyone got their fill as well as some leftovers. She was an angel, truly.

Sirius did not fill his plate as full as the others. He was still very thin, with his jaw looking more pronounced and Remus knew his hipbones were a bit more jutted out. Punishments at Grimmauld Place were harsh and Sirius had been starved well into the first few months of summer. It was still a process, trying to get him to eat without getting sick, but they were managing best they could. Remus watched as Sirius poked at his food, looking a bit scared of it before setting his fork down and letting out a frustrated sigh. James looked up from his own plate, regarding Sirius with a look of concern from across the table.

“You okay there, Padfoot?” He asked, keeping his tone light but Remus could see the worry in his dark eyes. Sirius nodded, picking up his utensils once more.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He trailed off, looking down at the table and not daring to meet anyone’s eye. Remus felt a sudden need to shield Sirius away from everyone else’s intense gaze, the wolf within him becoming quite territorial. He pushed those feeling away, not permitting the wolf access to its most basic instincts in the fear that the wolf might be visible on the surface. Still, even his human mind seemed to want to take Sirius away from the scrutiny.

“Darling,” Euphemia said, “you don’t have to eat it all. Just a few bites of naan if you can bear it. Just to keep up your strength.”

Sirius smiled tightly at her but did not move to eat. The rest of them reluctantly picked at their own food, trying to keep things as normal as possible. Fleamont engaged his son in conversation about Quidditch, asking after the Gryffindor team and what he thought their chances were this upcoming school year. Peter politely asked after the herbs Euphemia was growing in her kitchen—he had a thing for herbology—and she answered each question with detail. Remus turned his attention to Sirius, his hand coming to rest on the older boy’s knee. Sirius flinched slightly and then blinked as he realized it was only Remus.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Remus asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumb into Sirius’ thigh. The other boy nodded, standing quickly, and exiting the kitchen. The conversations happening came to an abrupt halt and Remus could feel James’ gaze turn towards him. He looked to his friend, a silent conversation passing between them.

Is he okay?

No, but he will be.

Remus walked out, trailing through the living room and out the back door which lead to the Potter’s spacious garden. When Remus had first visited the Potter’s home when he was thirteen, he had the startling realization that James Potter was very well off. It was a bit daunting, especially since Remus’ whole house could probably fit within one room of the mansion and he had been a bit nervous to even touch anything in fear of breaking it. Of course, Fleamont and Euphemia were no stranger to rough-housing, having known exactly what they were getting into with their own son, and Remus’ worries were quickly put to ease when Euphemia simply waved her wand at a vase that had tragically fallen to the floor amidst their game of dog-pile on Peter. Young Remus had almost forgotten that magic existed outside of Hogwarts, and he was in awe at seeing performed in such a domestic setting.

His favorite part of James’ home though was the garden. It was so big! There were wonderful trees that provided much needed shade on hot summer days, and pools of water run by magic to keep the vegetation alive. There were many times the boys pretended to be magizoologists searching for creatures in a jungle, or highly trained aurors on the hunt for evil wizards and—Remus’ personal favorite—pirates looking for treasure. It was a place filled with joy and adventure and even as the boys got older, it remained their sanctuary. Sirius had spent a lot of time in the garden since he arrived, sitting by himself beneath the starlit sky, crying out for his brother and the family that had hurt him. Remus had watched in privately, not daring to intrude on such moments, but wanting to be within reach just in case.

Sirius sat there now, next to a bed of deep red roses, softly running his fingers across the petals. Remus walked up, careful not spook him, and sat down beside him. He flickered his eyes in Sirius’ direction and noticed the other boy had started crying, but he did not pry. Now was not the time for that. Instead, he let his fingers trail through the grass beneath him and let his words fall lazily off his tongue.

“I read a new book at the beginning of summer,” Remus began, his tone light. “Mrs. Dalloway. It was a quick read. The entire novel takes place over the course of one day, how interesting is that? It’s become one of my favorites I think. Woolf is a great author—Virginia Woolf, she’s the one who wrote it.”

Sirius seemed to perk up at this. “Woolf? Could you be anymore ironic, Moony?”

A light laugh escaped Remus. “Believe me, I know. Mum was worried about that when she got it for me.”

The tension snapped back into Sirius as quickly as Remus realized his mistake. Hope Lupin was a generous woman, young and vibrant with a taste for progressive ideologies and love for everyone she met. She adored her son and kept him safe, never shying away from him despite his affliction with lycanthropy and Remus sometimes forgot how lucky he was to have her in his life until he was sat next to Sirius and realized that the Hope Lupin’s and Euphemia Potter’s of the world were unfortunately not the norm for everyone.

“They hate me,” Sirius says abruptly. “They hate that I don’t agree with them. That I don’t want to fucking pledge my allegiance to some dark lord who wants to kill all my friends and I—” he chokes off, a sob escaping him, “I don’t want to care, Remus. I don’t want to be bothered by the fact that my mother would rather curse me instead of hug me and that my father would rather have me dead instead of tarnishing his precious family name. But I do. I do care because they should care. I’m their son, I am their fucking flesh and blood and if blood is all that matters to them then why don’t they care about me?”

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Remus, tears that Sirius had been holding back ever since he was eleven years old and discovered that parents were not supposed to punish their children for wanting to be loved, the pain and anguish of that realization that had built up over time finally reaching a breaking point. Remus’ own heart was breaking as he stared helplessly, not knowing what to do. These were not problems children were supposed to have. They were supposed to be young, careless, and dreaming up pranks to pull once they got back to school. Instead, they had to contend with a looming war and parents who were cruel and a curse that transformed you into a monster. This was their life, and it would never be easy, Remus thought, not for them.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, “there are no words I can say to express to you how sorry I am that you’ve had to deal with any of this. Your parents…they’re wrong. They are so fucking wrong and they are so fucking blind for not being able to love you. You are the most loveable human being. You’re generous and caring and you…you take notes for me. When I miss class. And you always make sure my pillows are nice and fluffy after the moon and you rub those soothing salves on my skin at night. And you make me that special tea whenever I’m sick and you read to me when I can’t sleep. You kiss me like it’s the first time every time and you love me like it’s the only thing you’re meant to do. You clean James’ glasses for him and you make sure his Quidditch gear is ready to go on game day. You help Peter study and you let him go on and on about divination with you despite it being your least favorite subject. You’re the first one up to dance with Marlene at the parties and you braid Lily’s hair whenever she’s feeling upset over her sister. You are one of a kind, Sirius Black. You are a good friend and a good brother and you are the love of my life. Believe me when I tell you that you are loved.”

Sirius stared at him, the tears falling from his eyes leaving trails across his cheeks. He reached out for Remus, pulling the taller boy closer to close the distance between them. Sirius’ lips met Remus’, a tender kiss filled with gratitude and love and the promise of forever. When Sirius pulled away, his eyes were still shining, but there was new fervor there, a look of life that Remus had not seen reflected in those silver orbs for a long time.

“I love you so much,” Sirius said. And he smiled genuinely for the first time in months.

Remus smiled back. “I love you, too.”

“Come on,” Sirius said, standing up and offering his hand. “Let’s head back in.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans potter #fleamont potter #euphemia potter #walburga black #orion black #regulus black #marauders era #marauders fic #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar angst #sirius black angst #remus lupin angst #sirius black fluff #remus lupin fluff #tw: referenced child abuse #tw: child abuse #💭 by kat

[all-about-remadora]

200 followers!

So here’s a list of One shots for celebrate✨

Everyone Deserves A Someone by LoquaciousLupin

With nothing better to do during the holidays at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny wonder whether their former Professor has a special someone - with no other ideas, they do the only thing they can and ask him. With a little help from Tonks, Remus answers their questions as honestly... as he can. Remus and Tonks fluff.

A Beautiful Tune by SweetDeamon

I'm...not coming." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "On the mission. With you." Tonks stared at him in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, grip upon the cloak in her hand going limp. Remus struggled to come up with a convincing lie. "Because I...I..." Because I'm dying. Because you've struck me dead in the heart.

The Unspeakable Girl by SweetDeamon

"She makes me feel so on top of this world that I wish I'd never been born into it in the first place! So I can't stand to talk about her, Dad! I simply can't!" In which Remus Lupin visits his father and confesses something quite extraordinary. Based on information from POTTERMORE. Consider yourselves warned. RLNT.

The Future's Not Ours To See by Gilpin

Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?

Rhapsody in Blue by copperbadg

Remus has decided it's time to cure Tonks of her awkwardness, the only way he knows how.

Kissing It Better by Lady Bracknell

On her first date with Remus, Tonks discovers that spilt beer on wooden floors is the enemy of the less than surefooted everywhere. Will she die of embarrassment, or will Remus find a way to make it all better?

Kiss and tell by Lady Bracknell

For all his supposed genius, Sirius Black had always had rather a blind spot for the patently obvious.

What To Make Of Him by Lady Bracknell

Neither Ted nor Andromeda know quite what to make of their daughter's boyfriend. Can he win them round over Sunday lunch?

On First Impressions by  cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Fluffy oneshot.

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

The Talk, Or: The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Movement by MrsTater

Things appear to have changed. One shot, RLNT

Retrograde by MrsTater

Sequel to Movement: Tonks strongly suspected, though she hadn't much experience, that it wasn't normal for adults who fancied other adults to do what she was doing now.

Kernels by MrsTater

A Transfigured Hearts outtake: a cosy night in with Remus takes an unexpected turn when popcorn finds its way into odd places and leads Tonks to make an important discovery.

Party till the wolf comes by MrsTater

Fatherhood doesn't send Remus on a pub crawl, but announcing the birth of his son to his closest friends turns out to be the next best thing.

Overheard by MrsTater

Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007

The Honeymooners by MrsTater

Two years after their wedding, Remus and Tonks finally make it on their honeymoon. But now they've got something they didn't when they first married, will they be able to stop thinking about it long enough to enjoy themselves? AU

A Conversation That’s Not About Veela by starfishstar

Harry and Professor Lupin talk about women, and other things. During Christmas of HBP. (A gen story, but with very strong hints of Remus/Tonks and Harry/Ginny.)

Sleeping by starfishstar

Tonks sleeps; Remus muses

Precisely What I Mean by starfishstar

Remus with Teddy was easily the sweetest thing Tonks had ever seen. It seemed Remus couldn't ever hold Teddy without gazing down at his son with a huge, helpless, delighted grin. "Don't your cheeks ever get tired?" Tonks couldn't help teasing him once, and he'd glanced up, bewildered by the question – he didn't even realise he was doing it.

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

St. Margaret's by aegle

Remus, Tonks, a Muggle automobile, and a slightly disappointing beach adventure

On Bethlehem Down by aegle

Remus Lupin finds himself at Nymphadora Tonks' flat on Christmas Eve, 1996

The poem which i do not write by aegle

So, it has come to London with them, whatever it is.

The Watch by Sirussly

He'd grown so used to her endless chatter and relentless questions, a burning ball of energy with a laugh like her mother's. Some nights Tonks would listen to him instead, to stories of war and the price one pays for being a soldier in the middle of it. Occasionally neither of them would speak, but once her hand found his and stayed there until the sunrise coloured the sky.

Flame by Eat a Taco

It's strange what the soft light of a candle can do to someone.RLNT, sometime during HBP

Cover Me by Maggiemaye

Remus and Tonks embark on a mission that tests their well-established partnership to its limits. Even while surrounded by Death Eaters hidden in plain sight, they find that their greatest threats may come from within.

Expecto Patronum by Shimotsuki

Remus and Tonks have dinner at the Potters' after seeing Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. James and Al are full of questions, including one that not even Harry knows the answer to.

Meet the Reindeer by SweetDeamon 

Nothing untoward had happened since Teddy had arrived home from Hogwarts for the holidays this year. So far there had been no manically jingling elves, no traumatised Santa Claus, no mass snowball fights, no exploding cans of fake snow and as of yet nothing had come hurtling down the chimney or splattered anything or anybody with ammunition of the culinary kind. So far. RLNT AU.

Meet the Teacher by SweetDeamon 

In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.

A Study In Pink by SweetDeamon 

"He isn't entirely sure how it is that a certain pink haired witch came to be lying snugly in the bed beside him yet again, or indeed why such a thing had ever occurred the first time around..." RLNT.

A Piece of Cake by SweetDeamon 

"How long does it take to make a bloody sponge cake!" "You can't rush art, Sirius." Tonks attempts to bake Remus a birthday cake. "Attempts to" being the key phrase here... RLNT. Happy Birthday Gelly Bean!

The Christmas Waltz by Lady Bracknell 

As Christmas approaches, Remus and Tonks dance around the idea of togetherness, wondering if either of them is leading, or know where they're going at all.

Mistletoe and Wine by Lady Bracknell 

Remus falls foul of the mistletoe. Twice. RL/LP, RL/NT, LP/JP, rated for language.

Afraid of the Dark by Lady Bracknell 

Remus had always been ill at ease in the forest, but when a mission for Dumbledore sends him into the heart of the place with Tonks by his side, he finds his apprehension harder than usual to shake off.

The Luck of the Draw by Lady Bracknell 

She sits on the carpet, shuffles the cards, then deals them out. She came here with the hope of forcing the issue, because she just knows they shouldn't be about can't and won't.

Chione by: cafei-au-lei

Remus has confirmation that Tonks may return his feelings - now all that's left is to decide what to do with this rather exciting and terrifying information. And although it's been a strange year, this year's Christmas could shape up to be one of the best Remus has ever had. Takes place after "The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors." RLNT OotP holiday fluff.

The First Night by: cafei-au-lei 

Most major events in Remus' life have done nothing but reinforce the crushing inevitability of his condition and the life that it has condemned him to. But maybe there is hope to be had, after all.

amare by: cafei-au-lei 

At first, the idea that Tonks and Professor Lupin could be together was equal parts baffling and absurd. But then, maybe it did make a tiny bit of sense, Ginny thought, as she watched the way Professor Lupin looked at Tonks over the breakfast table. But she still couldn't help but think that this love and relationships thing was far too complicated. RLNT.

War Baby by MrsTater 

It's time for Teddy's first outing, and for Tonks to make peace with a noble great idiot. Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Perchance To Dream by: MrsTater

A dream leads to an argument and an unexpected quest to seek out the meaning. Will Remus and Tonks kiss and make up? More importantly, who will come out on top? RLNT, Deathly Hallows, Mature.

Like a Cat in the Sun by starfishstar 

Remus is in a house full of women.

#nymphadora tonks #remadora #remus lupin #remus x tonks #harry potter #allaboutremadora

[vintage-squid]

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus  Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together  Word count: 10 363 

----- 

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

#anxceit #healthy anxciet #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #fae au #eros and psyche #squid scribbles

[clairecrive]

“A promise”- Remus Lupin imagine

A/N: so this is my first Remus and hp imagine ever, so I’m sorry if it sounds off. I’m open to constructive criticism if you have any. Hope you like it anyway!

Pairing: Remus x bff reader, Sirius x reader, Remus x girlfriend OC, Lily x James

Warning: none I guess, angst with fluffy end so

Summary: as you grow it can happen sometimes that people change and so their relationship with you. And as you’ve overheard something your best friend agreed to, you feared that that’s exactly what happened to your relationship. It is really though?

Flashbacks are in italics

"So you’re leaving? Just like that?" You ask when he sits down on the couch in front of the one you were sitting in. You had heard him talk with his girlfriend about moving after graduation and of course, there’s nothing wrong with that. What bothered you was that she wanted to leave England.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't be daft Remus, you know what I'm talking about." he really seemed clueless but the fact that he had taken such a big decision and hadn’t even told you yet had hurt you. It was something one would immediately tell their best friend, was it not?

"I don't, seeing as my girlfriend asked me to move in her and I reckon there’s nothing wrong with that." But of course, in true Remus and y/n fashion, whenever one of you bit the other answered right away.

"Your girlfriend wants to move on the other side of the globe Remus!" And so you snapped, surprising all of your friends around you beside the man of the hour and your boyfriend Sirius since both of them knew you like the back of their hands.

"So?" he asked causing you to scoff

"Don't you remember?" your voice got very quiet almost as if you didn't want him to hear

"We made a promise to always be together," you explained after seeing his puzzled expression.

Realization washed over his face and you knew the memory of you two in the back of his yard played in his mind. The day, at 11 years old, you promised that no matter what, you'd never leave the other alone. 

For as long as you could remember, you and Remus had always spent the summer together. Since you attended different schools, you didn’t have a lot of time to spare to see each other as much as you’d like during the school year, so as soon as it ended you tried to spend every moment you could together. Of course, now that both had received the letter from Hogwarts, things were going to change. You couldn’t wait to finally attend school with your best friend.

So here you both were, swaying on the swings in the park near your house while Remus was on the ground next to them reading a book. The boy could always be found with his nose buried in a book but you never minded much seeing as it could be said the same for you.

However, since the letter arrived, your mind was filled with excitement for this new adventure that awaited you but also, you couldn’t help but have a lot of questions about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”  you asked him not stopping the swing. 

Remus didn’t answer you right away but you knew you had caught his attention.

"I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah I mean we all know my... condition isn't going make things easier for me."

"Is that why you don't like to think about the future?" He just nodded but you knew it was because he didn’t like to talk about it so you quickly changed the subject.

"I don't like it either you know, but I do hope you'll be in it."

Your bond with Remus wasn’t exactly a secret. Everyone who knew you, was aware of your tight knit relationship. However, being both shy and reserved, you never really outed your feelings for each other with words. Your constant presence at the other's side was enough of a statement.

It was rather unusual for both of you to openly speak about it like this so while you looked in front of you while swaying on the swing, Remus was busy trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Well, I thought that was a given." He said loud enough so you could hear over the metal sound of the swing. Now it was your time to blush.

"You promise?" Stopping your legs, you got the swing to slowly still. Reaching your pinky towards him, a gesture so very common between you whenever you wanted to seal a deal, you wait for him to do the same.

"Promise." And the deal was sealed with the same seriousness as it was a legal binding contract.

Seemed like one took it more seriously than the other though.

"We were only 11 y/n..." Remus said tentatively. He looked taken back and this possibly hurt you more than his words. 

So what if you were both eleven at the time? Your age didn’t take away any ouch of importance from the promise you made. You were dead serious about it and still stood by your words. Didn’t he?

"Yes well, I was serious when I promised you than I'd never leave you alone. I should have known though that all it took was a cute girl for you to push me aside." Now, that might have been a tad too far fetched but you’d always had a fliar for the dramatics and being with Sirius didn’t help that in the least.

"Oh don't be a hypocrite now, y/n. If Sirius asked you, you would have done the same thing." Rolling his eyes, he pointed at Sirius who was currently sat on the couch behind you. You were standing in the middle of the common room but fortunately most of the students seemed to in class and those who had a free period fled as soon as they heard you arguing.

"No, I wouldn't. Because you mean the world to me and I'd never leave you behind." You boasted tired of hearing him misjudging you." It's nice to know how you feel though." And with that, barely able to contain your tears anymore, you stormed out of the room leaving a confused and angry Remus behind.

The truth was that this had nothing to do with your partners. You loved Sirius with all your heart and were happy when Remus seemed to find what you have with his best friend with Sarah. You were genuinely happy for them, Remus deserves to be happy and there was nothing you wanted more for him. Even if that meant he had to leave you behind…

Now that you were looking at the whole thing with a clearer mind, you started to realize that Remus was right. You were being a hypocrite indeed.  Your relationship with Sirius had flourished beautifully since you’d started dating in third year and while you hadn’t already talked about it, you knew you’d probably end up living with him in his apartment. Lily and James were practically already married and Peter… well Peter was Peter. So where did that leave Remus?

If he didn’t move with Sarah that would mean that he’d be alone. Sure, their houses will always be open to him but it wouldn’t be the same without her by his side. You knew that. 

So, you realized, at the end of the day, you just wanted him to be happy. And if you loved someone you should set him free. You still had Sirius and everyone else and it’s not like you’d never see each other again. Of course, being apart from him was going to be hard for you but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. He deserved it.

Sighing you stopped, knowing that you owed him an apology. But when you turned around to go back to the common room, you saw Remus walking towards you. You didn’t hear him following after you stormed out but he was walking rather quickly to catch up with you. He didn’t expect you to stop though so he almost knocked you over, his arms wrapped around you were the only reason why you hadn’t toppled over.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t realize you had taken it this way. I swear it’s not like that, you know how much I care about you,” Remus was muttering frantically in your neck, your grip on you tightening and you could help but chuckle at how sweet and wonderful human being your best friend. 

You pulled away slightly, just enough so you could look into his eyes while speaking,not that Remus allowed you to pulled away that much. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing Rem, it wasn’t fair of me to hold that against you. It’s only right that you live your life how you want and with the woman you love. I just want you to be happy.” You said while caressing the crease in the between his eyebrows. You knew how much he hated arguing.

“What about our promise? I also was serious at the time, I don’t want you to feel like you don’t matter as much to me because you do. You know how much you mean to me.” He continued wanting to be 100% sure that you were okay.

“I’ll be okay Rem, I’ll just have to come to term with the fact that I’m not going to see your annoying sprout every day.” You joked to ease his worry and mirrored the smile he gave you.

“I’m not going to disappear, you know. I’m going to write you every day, you’ll be more annoyed with me than you are now.” Keeping an arm on your shoulders, he lead you back to the common room where the others were waiting for you.

“As if that could really happen.”  You retake your sit beside Sirius that shots you a wing while Remus leaves a kiss on your head before sitting down next Sarah.

Yeah, you had a feeling that you were going to be alright despite the distance.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x bff reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin angst #sirius black x reader #lily x james #remus lupin x oc #harry potter #harry potter imagines #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders imagines #marauders imagine

[theweasleysredhair]

As Long As I’ve Got You [R.L.]

Character: Remus Lupin

Word Count: 910

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Remus sneaks into your room in Grimmauld Place in order to cuddle.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Kinda short but I hope the requester enjoys anyway!

+ + + + +

The Order meeting had been eventful and tiring, what with Sirius and Molly butting heads over what they felt Harry should and shouldn’t know about the current situation. You had helped clean the place up and ensured the kids were all in their rooms in order to get ready for the new school year beginning, before finally being able to head up to the room you were staying in.

You had unpacked some of your things already as you were staying at Grimmauld place with Remus to keep Sirius company so he wouldn’t be alone for the foreseeable future, filling the side drawers with some spare clothes and toiletries, and placing a new photos on top of the night stand. You’d also placed a blanket on the bed and brought a few pillows with you for comfort. It may be a dreary place to stay but you wanted to make it as homey as possible whilst you were there.

You’d just finished changing into your pyjamas when there was a knock at the door. Placing your worn clothes in a pile on a chair in the corner of the room, you headed over to open the door.

Remus stood before you, slightly leaning on the doorframe, and shot you a lopsided smile, “Hello darling... may I come in?” You shook your head with a laugh, “So formal... of course you can.”

You stepped back out of the way to give him room to enter and he closed the door behind him, “So what brings you here?”

“Well, you mostly. But also the kids are making a racket - I was lucky enough to get the room next to the twins and I could’ve sworn I heard something explode... anyway I thought I could maybe stay here instead - if that’s okay with you,” Remus explained.

You sat down on the bed, your back resting against the headboard as you patted the space next to you. “You know that’s perfectly okay with me... anything to spend more time together. Can’t believe Molly thinks we should have separate rooms anyway... I have no idea what she thinks we would be getting up to,” you feigned innocence before shooting him a cheeky wink as he made himself comfortable beside you, pulling the blanket and duvet over the both of you.

Remus chuckled, “Yes, we’re perfectly well behaved.” He reached over to take your hand in his, squeezing gently as he smiled over at you. You rested your head on his chest as his free arm instinctively wrapped around your waist. You breathed him in, enjoying the smell of his cologne mixed with a hint of chocolate and something distinctly him.

He pressed a kiss to your hairline as you both settled down further into the bed, him pulling away for a moment just to flick off the lamp that was on the chest of drawers on his side, leaving the room with just the glow of the single candle sitting on the windowsill on the far wall.

“Are you scared?”

You felt his eyes on you without looking up at him as you waited for his answer. “About what, love?” He asked softly, turning his body slightly into yours. “The war... it feels like it did before... I don’t want to lose anyone else,” you thought about James and Lily and smiled sadly, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. And I’m not going to lose you. I’ll admit I’m worried about what’s to come but we’ll fight it and we will win. We won the first time and we’ll win this time too,” Remus said determinedly, tracing patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb.

You nuzzled into his chest and closed your eyes. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long battle... everything is going to be topsy-turvy for a while. It’s started with Harry having to go for a hearing at the ministry - can you believe such a thing is happening? He’s 15... any other 15 year old they’d believe. Fudge has something against him and Dumbledore... stupid, stupid man. Won’t believe You-Know-Who is back, won’t believe anything we say. He’s dealing with this in the worst way possible,” you sighed.

“We can’t make him believe us. He’s scared and doesn’t want to believe us. And if he doesn’t want to then, well, he won’t. The best thing we can do is make sure Harry is protected and continue on with our missions. We’re going to pull through this, you’ll see. Everything will be okay in the end,” Remus reassured you, pulling you gently so you were half laying on top of him. You hummed in agreement, “As long as I’ve got you I know everything will be fine.”

“You’ve got me, darling... you’ve got me.”

You were only half aware of Remus waving his wand to put out the candle as you yawned, beginning to drift off to sleep. “I love you... so much,” you mumbled. Remus leant down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, “I love you too, darling.”

“Goodnight Remus,” you whispered, slowly succumbing to your tiredness as Remus smiled to himself, looking at you lovingly. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear and settled himself so that your head was resting on his shoulder. His breath hit your ear as he replied in a low tone, “Goodnight, love.”

#remus #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus imagines #remus lupin imagines #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Pain of reality [Remus Lupin x Reader] - Requested

Title: Pain of reality Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 16 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: I got this little one requested by a reader of mine on Wattpad. I found the idea quite adorable, but I ended up making it a lot more angsty than I thought it would turn out to be. I hope you will like it anyway :D Summary: Remus breaks up with you in fear of hurting you. But then you overhear a conversation between Remus and his friends, which leaves you in shock. Request: [x] 

"Hi HeloiseDBrightmore, I have a request for a one shot on on your Marauders imagines (X reader + gifs) story, could you do one where you get in a bad fight with Remus and he breaks up with you out of fear you will find out his furry little problem. You feel lost and then 2 weeks after the breakup you overhear Sirius and James telling him you deserve to know the truth and that you won’t care about his furry little problem. You step out to confront them, idk really know maybe something similar? I really love Remus! Thanks, keep writing your really good!" - BOOK__LOVER22 [Wattpad]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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"Remus John Lupin!" You shouted as you stood in the middle of the Clock Tower Courtyard with your hands resting on your hips, lips pursed in anger.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." He replied as he was about to walk away.

"No! I am so fed up of you always running away when I dare to ask about your disappearances. I have the right to know." You spoke as you walked over and stopped right before him, looking up into his dark orbs. "We have been together for almost a year. I deserve an explanation. I feel like you are keeping something from me." You tried this time in a calmer manner.

"I'm sorry." He heaved a deep sigh as he was about to talk again, but he didn't.

"Talk to me, please." You placed your hands on his chest as you inched closer to him.

"I can't." He got hold of your wrists, removed them from his body and walked away. You didn't even bother to turn around. You just let your words escape.

"Why are we even together if you can't trust me enough?" You sounded broken and weak, but he knew how hurt you have been even without hearing your voice. He knew it was all his fault. He was scared. He was afraid you would leave him, but most of all, he was terrified of hurting you.

"I guess, you are right." He blurted out, making you spin around in your place.

"What?" You exclaimed as your wide eyes were plastered over his back. He didn't turn around. He didn't even look at you for a mere second.

"I guess, we shouldn't be together. I clearly can't trust you." Silent tears left your eyes, your cheeks soaked in the liquid. You felt as if you have been stabbed on the chest and was struggling to breath.

"You don't mean that." You tried to fight the inevitable.

"I do. I don't think we should be together." He shook his head, looking up at the Clock Tower. "I think it's better if we just leave each other alone." His voice didn't even break at his words, making you feel as if you meant nothing to him. As if you have not showed him how much he meant to you. As if you have been at fault for everything that has gone bad in your relationship.

"Remus, please... don't do this. You know I love you. I really do. If I didn't show you well enough, then just tell me how to. Please don't leave me..." You sobbed. His words cut deep and you felt your heart being clenched in your ribcage stronger and stronger the more he stood in silence. "I thought everything was okay a couple of days ago. Have I done something? Let's talk this through." You attempted to save the situation, but he slowly shook his head.

"Nothing is okay. I don't... I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be with you anymore." He spoke firmly. Each and every word of his cutting deeper. You stared at his back, no words wanting to leave your lips anymore. You loved him to your core and you have never dared to imagine a break up. You were just perfect together. Of course you did fight on occasions, mostly about the secret he has been keeping from you, but it has never gone this far.

You were watching his brown sweater, the way the horizontal lines ran across the clothing, the way the bottom of his jumper wrinkled on his back.

You went numb. Your thoughts were all a mess, making you unable to process the situation. He meant everything to you, but he didn't even take a look at you as he ended the happiest part of your life.

You heaved a deep sigh and walked up to him to stand beside him. You wiped off the tear stains from your cheek and sighed once more, forcing your words out.

"I hope you will find happiness in the future." Your voice was soft and light, barely audible. It was full of sadness and guilt, feeling as if it was all your fault. That you could have done more. That you might have done something you weren't even aware of. Maybe you argued with him too much. Maybe you didn't show your feelings clearly enough. Maybe... you were just not good enough.

You walked away from him, heading up to your dormitory, wishing to be as far as possible from the person who just broke your heart into the tiniest pieces. You dropped on your bed, sobbing into your pillow, going through each and every happy moment you have experienced with Remus. His light kisses, his loving hugs, his strong hold around your hand. He was your everything and you were beyond heart broken.

He didn't even look at you as he broke off your relationship, confirming that all along it was you that felt deeply about him, but he didn't even care enough to look you in the eye while leaving you.

You didn't want to hate him, hell you couldn't have, but your pain was unbearable. After what happened, you weren't sure he has ever loved you. You thought, maybe it was just an act. He got rid off you so easily, it hurt how simple of a step it was for him to take, while you had to suffer this horrible heartache. It was unfair and you wanted nothing, but to forget him, to forget that your year long relationship might not have been real.

You cried into your pillows till the moment there were no more tears left and your heartache found its company in your headache. You gave into your sweet slumber, hoping for this all to be just a bad nightmare.

But it wasn't.

Weeks has passed and you were still hurt. You caught his eyes wondering over to you, making each and every look feel like another stab into your chest. As if he was mocking you. As if he wanted to see that you were hurting enough.

Remus wasn't that kind of a person. But then did you actually know him? Breaking up with you seemed to be one of the easiest things he has ever done. The heavy weight of your unrequited love and the sight of your clearly unaffected ex-boyfriend fuelled your sadness.

As you walked out to the Black lake on a cloudy, dark afternoon, you saw Remus talking to his friends, almost as if they were having an argument. Remus was heavily gesturing, like he was trying to deny something, while James and Sirius seemed agitated.

You walked closer to the group of friends, hiding behind a large oak tree. You have stood just a couple of meters away, close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

"Moony, you have to stop this. You are hurting both of you." Sirius said as he threw his arms in the air dramatically.

"I can't, Padfoot. I can't let Y/N get any closer to me." He tried to argue with his friend, making you frown as you realised you were part of the subject of their conversation.

"But you can! We stayed by your side all along. We didn't leave you. Why is it so hard to believe that people who love you would stay by your side?" James argued this time, trying to convince Remus, but he just shook his head in denial.

"It's not just that, Prongs. It would kill me if I ever hurt Y/N. It kills me to even think about it. I can't let that happen and the most logical way is to keep myself away." He explained firmly.

"Logical? You are not being logical at all, Moony. Y/N is a smart person, who loves you to bits. I can't imagine anyone else being more accepting, more loving. You would just need to explain things clearly. You need to communicate instead of making decision on your own. Stupid decision to stay the least." Sirius attempted to argue with his friend's reasoning.

"I can't." He replied simply.

"I give up." Sirius stepped back abruptly, turning to the tree you were hiding behind. Your eyes widened. So did his, before a huge grin appeared across his face and gave you a cheeky wink. "Let me ask you something. Do you love Y/N?"

"Of course, I do. How many times do I have to tell you how much? Do you think I would have ended things if I didn't care?" He frowned, raising his voice, clearly agitated. You felt your heartbeat quicken, hope filling you up once again.

"Do you miss her?" Sirius continued.

"Please, don't make this any more difficult than it already is." He begged his friend almost as if he was in pain.

"Do you?" He didn't plan on giving up though.

"What do you think? I don't think I have loved anyone else so strongly before." He heaved a deep sigh, shaking his head. "Can we just change subject? I really don't want to talk about this."

"Then Y/N has the right to know that you are werewolf." He shrugged as if he was concluding the conversation. Your eyes widened in surprise, your lips parted involuntarily. You stepped out of your hiding, staring at the love of your life in shock.

"Y/N..." Remus exclaimed, a terrified expression across his face.

"Did you hear all of that?" Sirius asked and you nodded in reply.

"Sirius, what have you done?" Remus whispered weakly, his eyes not even leaving you for a second.

"I made sure that Y/N had a say in your decision too. You can hate me and you can even curse me for revealing your secret, but breaking up over something that you didn't even try to explain, is plain dumb. You didn't even give Y/N a chance to understand or to make a decision by leaving you or staying by your side." He shrugged casually.

You were shocked to say the least. It was definitely hard to process, but in no way it affected the fact that he loved you and you loved him. Sirius was right. He should have shared this with you and let you decide whether you wanted to stay by his side or leave him for good. You had every right to know, especially after you heard how much he loved you.  

"So... you are... a werewolf?" You spoke hesitantly, questioningly. He heaved a deep sigh and hid his face behind his palms. "I am not saying I'm not surprised. I am still processing. But I had the right to know." You explained, waiting for him to reply.

"Maybe. I guess. But even if I told you, it wouldn't change the fact that I am afraid of hurting you. I can't be close to you." He shook his head, letting his arms drop.

"Actually, it would change a lot. I think I can make a decision on wanting to be with you or not even if you have a furry little problem. My feelings didn't change. I still love you, Remus." You replied firmly.

"Even if you wanted to be with me, despite all that you have just heard, I would still be scared of hurting you. I wouldn't want to risk that." He raised his voice to get his opinion across to you.

"But you said it yourself. You still love me." You tried to argue with him.

"But I don't want to be with you." He spoke firmly, making your heart skip a beat, your breath hitch in surprise. It has never occurred to you. He was right. He might have loved you, but that didn't mean he wanted to be with you. You couldn't begin to describe how silly you felt for having your hopes up.

"Oh..." You swallowed hard, feeling the tears collecting in your eyes.

"That's not what I..." He started, but you cut him off.

"No, no... I understand. I guess I just didn't think this through." You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly with a painful smile. It hurt bad. You thought being dumped was painful, but feeling rejected and being told he didn't need you for a second time, sent you over the edge.

"Y/N..." He called out for you, almost whispering your name painfully as he stepped closer. However you backed away. You didn't need him to comfort you. The last thing you needed is to feel him anywhere near you.

"It's fine, Remus. Really." You smiled at him, trying to force it as hard as you could to make him feel better. "It's fine." You said as you turned around and hurried back to the castle.

"You are officially an idiot." James exclaimed shaking his head.

You were almost running through the corridors, trying to keep your tears at bay until you were out of sight finally. You hid behind a portrait, a hole in the wall, which Remus showed you a couple of months back, letting your tears run across your face endlessly.

You held your fist in front of your chest, clenched tightly, your knuckles turning white as if it was helping your pain to go away. But it didn't. Your breathing was uneven, your lips dry, your face deformed. Your pain couldn't have been more obvious. You threw your head backwards, letting it harshly collide with the cold wall behind you. The pain was nothing compared to the lump, the suffocating feeling in your throat.

A flash of light blinded you for a second as you saw the portrait door open. Remus stepped inside, closing it behind himself.

"Remus, I really need to be alone right now." You spoke weakly, trying to remove the tear stains from your cheek.

"I'm sorry." He spoke, crouching down in front of you, placing one of his hands on your cheek gently. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I am so so sorry." He kept repeating himself, making you feel indescribably confused.

"I don't understand." You furrowed your brows, waiting for a reply.

"Of course, I want to be with you. That's not what I meant out there." He sighed deeply, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "When I broke up with you, it was the hardest moment of my life."

"Sure didn't seem like it." You scoffed rudely and even you were surprised at your behaviour.

"I know. I tried to hide it. I thought if I left you and stayed away from you, it would solve everything. You don't understand how hard it was for me to see you suffer each and every day. I wanted to walk up to you and just wrap my arms around you to tell you that it will all be fine. I am really sorry for hurting you." His gentle tone, his apologies, his guilty look made you want to engulf him in a hug, but you stopped yourself. You were too hurt.

"I thought I wasn't good enough. I thought maybe you never loved me." You admitted shyly.

"What? No! Don't even think about such silly things. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." He spoke in a panicking tone.

"What do you expect me to say?" You asked, unsure. He didn't want to be with you, but he wanted to be with you. He didn't want to hurt you, but here he was telling you how important you have been to him. You were utterly confused and beyond unsure of everything.

"I..." He stoped to think for a second. "I want to be with you. I want to kiss you, I want to hug you, I want to talk to you. I need you." He spoke softly, getting hold of your hands.

"Aren't you afraid of hurting me anymore?" You asked, not wanting him to back away in the future with the same stupid reason.

"I am. I am terrified even thinking about it. But I have the dumbest friends and I am the dumbest of them all. I guess they made me realise that I needed you more than I dared to admit." He confessed.

"I love you Remus. I really do, but how do I know that you won't just stand up with another stupid excuse and walk away?" You asked painfully, thinking through every possible options.

"My secret is out there. If you accept me like this, I have no reason to walk away." He squeezed your hands gently as if he tried to reassure you that he was there for you.

"We will have to talk about this. You will have to explain everything to me. My knowledge on werewolfs is not really broad." You smiled softly.

"Does that mean you are giving me a second chance?" He asked, eyes holding nothing but hope. You heaved a deep sigh before opening your lips to talk.

"You will need to work on getting my trust back. You really hurt me, you know?" You warned him even though you knew you would be back in his arms in no time. "You didn't let me make a decision on my own. You should know me by now, still you didn't even consider that I might have wanted to be with you whether you are a werwolf or not. You left me thinking you didn't want to be with me, that you didn't love me anymore. I thought it was all my fault. Seeing you every single day was as painful as it can get." You tried to make him understand how deeply his decision affected you.

"I am really sorry. I thought getting over the pain of break up was better than if I ever physically hurt you. I thought I made the right decision when I did it." He tried to explain it to you, but it didn't work on you anymore.

"Clearly didn't." You spoke harshly.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..." He sighed deeply. "Would you give me another chance, please?" He asked with a guilty expression across his face and you finally let your hard exterior go.

"You know... maybe if you kissed me, that would help me decide." You smiled playfully, which earned a heartfelt laughter from him. He leaned closer to you and attached his lips to yours, placing his hand behind your neck, keeping you impossibly close to him. He was a little rough, maybe more passionate than ever, but you didn't mind. You felt his feelings, his reassurance coming through to you and you knew he would do anything to keep you by his side at this point. As you parted he hinted a small peck on your lips before looking into your eyes.

"Did that convince you?" He asked with a raised brow. His smile grew wider as you giggled at his question.

"Maybe you need to try again. I am not quite certain just yet." You smirked, which made him shook his head, but soon his lips were on yours once again, kissing you just as lovingly as before. If not more.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the chapter. Thank you :) 

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

#remus lupin #remuslupin #remus #lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader imagine #remus lupin x reader one shot #one shot #imagine #marauders #james potter #sirius black #harry potter fanfiction #moony #prongs #wormtail #padfoot #remus x reader imagine #remus x reader one shot

[armageddonouttahere]

Consolation

Title: Consolation

Summary: Takes place after “Putting Others First”, in which Roman sinks into his room and doesn’t leave for a while. Logan is the only one not preoccupied enough to come and lure him out, but in this he has to face emotions he’s been putting on the backburner for a long time.

Pairings: Romantic Logince, background platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Crying, self-doubt, insecurity, negative thinking

Rating: General Audiences

Genres: Fluff, Hurt/comfort (with a happy ending)

Word count: 2,500

A/N:  Here we are, at last! I had cranked out the last couple paragraphs of this fic just an hour ago, and I’m very excited. This had gone from a little Logince comfort drabble to a fic of 2,500 words (exactly, though I didn’t do that on purpose). I hope anyone who sees this enjoys it, and everyone who’s been waiting for it likes it even more, after all this suspense. Taglist will be at the end, under the cut.

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Logan was at a loss. The aftermath of Janus’ name reveal left all the sides shaken and fragile. Especially Roman. Logan wanted to help, he wanted to be able to tell Roman with certainty that he will be okay, that everything will be alright. Logan needed to be able to look Roman in the eyes and know that the words that came out of his mouth are truths.

But he can’t. So, Logan focused on the problems he could solve. He endeavoured to keep Thomas in working order, though on the inside he may be struggling. Virgil seemed to have taken a backseat, focused on watching over Patton. The most he’d seen of the anxious side was weekly updates and reports on Patton’s condition, how he was feeling, which Logan appreciated greatly. He needed all the positive data he could get.

As the logical side, Logan was somewhat attuned with the other sides’ reasoning and thought process. He needed this information to be accurate in order to know how Thomas works, how he functions. He knew how the other sides try to solve problems, how they understand things. When something or someone throws a wrench in the system it’s one of the few things that affected Logan physically.

In the aftermath after Roman sank out Logan had migraines for weeks. Roman’s flawed logic- his flawed perception of himself- is the one thing that has caused Logan the most physical pain. Roman’s view of himself shifted so drastically to the negative end that Logan felt… sorry? For him? 

He felt… he- he felt. Roman made him feel. What did he feel, exactly? Empathy? It was true that Roman’s emotional pain gave Logan physical pain, but the shared anguish went further than that. Logan knew what it’s like to feel wrong, to feel unheard. He related to Roman. He knew what he’s going through. 

Their opinions may differ, but Roman still needed consolation. Logan won’t further his belief that Janus is the villain, but Roman doesn’t need a scolding or a lecture, skewed though his viewpoint of Janus may be. He needed someone to listen to him, someone to comfort him.

Logan was aware that he’s no optimal candidate for the matter, not the first choice for consolation (nor the second). He does not possess the endless cuddles and comfort food of Patton, nor does he have the quiet understanding and listening ears of Virgil. His only way of reassuring the prince is through data, probabilities, and chances. Inadequate. Unsatisfactory. Definitely not enough.

Logan made a plan. A plan to make Roman feel better. A plan to get Roman to open his door, something he hadn’t done in two weeks. He gathered things he believed he would need in order to cheer Roman up: the Sherlock screenplay Roman had gifted him at Christmastime, Logan’s book of Shakespeare’s plays (Hamlet being pre-marked with a red sticky-note, in case Roman is feeling increasingly dramatic and macabre), his journal for note-taking, vocab cards, and his laptop- which has a playlist compilation full of ‘cute’ animal videos at the ready. All of this was needed for Logan to get up the courage to knock on Roman’s door. He felt as if he’s putting on an armour of sorts. Preparing himself for battle. 

It’s quite funny- the logical side needs bravery and courage to step outside his area of expertise and comfort the prince of the group.

May 17th, 2020. 1830 hours. Attempt #1: Prologue.

Roman has not left his corner of the mindscape for 16 days, 6 hours, and 28 minutes. Virgil has just given an update on Patton’s condition, which is thus: Patton’s “room” has slightly lessened in its intensity of upsetting emotions. The picture frames’ rate of showing unfavourable memories has decreased. Patton has not cried yet today. The Dark Sides, Remus and Janus, seem to be keeping on the “down-low”. Thomas has not had any intrusive dreams in many days. Virgil has been too preoccupied in keeping tabs on Patton to give him anxiety over much.  Thomas’ motivation has gone down. His restlessness has gone up. Roman’s unconscious contributions to Thomas’ everyday life have gone down significantly. Thomas has stopped daydreaming. He has stopped thinking about the future, what he has to do tomorrow. He is becoming forgetful and apathetic.  As the logical side, there is only so much I can do to keep Thomas in working order without help from the others, that much I can admit. I have put off trying to help Roman in case things only become worse, but the stakes are too high at this point. Action must be taken. I will record the results of this 1st attempt later.

Logan steeled himself, books tucked under his arm. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Around nine at night, he wrote down the results. Roman had been unresponsive to polite requests for entry, knocking, attempts to start a conversation, small-talk, even a referencing desire to build a snowman. He had not responded to propositions of reading from plays or poetry, or any of his favourite literature. In summary, it was almost like speaking to a “brick-wall” (almost, because the door to Roman’s room was made of mahogany).

“Really? Things must be bad,” was Virgil’s response as Logan recounted the events to him later that evening. It was late, almost time for Logan to get some shut-eye after organizing Thomas’ duties for tomorrow. Logan had entered the kitchen hoping that Thomas would get a good night’s sleep so he could have the highest level of productivity the next day, but judging by the Monster Energy drink resting in Virgil’s hands he supposed that was not the case.

“It is certainly concerning. I tried… if not everything, at least a substantial amount of options.”

“Yeah, and if Roman doesn’t answer to a Disney reference… I’m worried about him. Do you want... me to try?” he said, fidgeting. Logan realized he looked uncomfortable with the idea. Virgil must felt a little guilty for not showing up at all during the argument.

“No, I believe that more attempts should be made. To wear him down, in a way. I’m planning to try again tomorrow.”

“Same Bat Time, same Bat Place?”

“An interesting way of putting it, but that’s the idea.” Logan rubbed his eyes and began making a list of all his tasks once he returned to his room.

“Alright. I’m gonna go see Thomas.” Virgil said, getting ready to sink out.

“I assumed you were. And Virgil?”

He popped back up. “Yeah?”

“Please at least try to motivate him a bit, if through fear? I don’t want to deal with a gloomy, unproductive Thomas tomorrow.”

“You got it. I won’t screw him up too much. ‘Night, Lo.”

“Good-night, Virgil.” He was alone.

“Roman?” Logan knocked once more. “Roman, would you be open to company? I wish to speak with you.”

Nothing. He sighed, pushing his journal farther into his pants pocket. He decided to come with substantially less things this time around. To come as he is.

“I’m not entertaining visitors or guests at the present. Please come back another time, thank you,” came a weak and muffled response.

The sound of Roman’s voice gave Logan an ache in his heart which he didn’t want to name. He ignored it, for the moment.

“I just want to speak with you. You’ve been decidedly quiet these past few weeks. Your input, both in-person and in Thomas’ subconscious has dropped a considerable amount. As far as I am aware you have not made your presence known to me or any of the other sides in over two weeks.”

Silence was his response. Facts were getting Logan nowhere. Logan sighed, struggling with himself. Did he tell Roman what he thought in simple terms, what he was trying to say through his data? How could he bare himself to Roman’s listening ears, let himself be known?

“In all honesty, Roman, I’m- I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m worried about you.” He said this in a rush, letting it all out in one breath. Like a Band-aid, as Virgil had stated. The silence that still followed both frightened him and spurred him on.

“Roman, I- I haven’t spoken to you in weeks. I’m afraid of what will happen if you stay isolated for much longer. You’re a necessary part of Thomas’ life, for me to have things to maintain and keep in order. But more than that, more than duties of mine, I mis- I’m… finding your absence upsetting.”

Logan faintly realised his hands had begun to shake, and he clenched them.

“You… mean a lot to m- the Mindscape, to Patton, to Virgil… to everyone. No one means you harm. We need your input on discussions, and revel in your ideas and thoughts. We... miss you.”

Just gotta rip it off.

“I- I miss you, Roman.” Logan shut his eyes, forcing out the idea that he had become emotional enough to begin producing tears. Logic does not cry. “We bicker sometimes and both of us are wrong on occasion, but I would rather have arguments with you than nothing without.”

“Seeing your vibrance and excitement in brainstorming, your happiness in Disney movies and romances, watching your brilliance when creating plays and stories and… being you, I- I find myself… swept up- metaphorically, of course- in every emotion you give off when you’re around me. Seeing you productive and happy gives me more of a reason to work to the best of my ability.”

“It’s… it would be difficult for me to ever say these things in the hearing of the other sides, but… I miss the feelings you bring me when you are around. It is something greater than a job well done, Crofters, or puzzles and murder mysteries being solved.”

“The emotions I feel when you are around are something more than a simple pleasure in watching, in the aesthetical enjoyment of seeing things fall into place. When I’m with you, I feel… spurred into action.”

“Roman, I- I can’t… I can’t bear your absence any longer. I’m worried about you, but more than that, I’m worried that should you keep to yourself, I’ll never… I- I won’t…” Logan swept aside a few tears that had run down his face. His throat ached so much that he feared he wouldn’t be able to get any more words out. The words he spoke next came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Without you I’m afraid I’ll never feel anything again.”

A shuddered gasp tore itself from Logan’s throat as he took his first proper breath in a few minutes. Tears slicked their way down his face freely now. This was, Logan supposed, because such a long drought of emotion had rendered him virtually unable to control any that did overcome him.

“However,” Logan began once more after a few more minutes of silence, his voice quieter now. If anyone else had heard it, they might have said he sounded ashamed. “Should you wish to remain alone for… whatever period of time, I won’t stop you. Asking you to open your door for my sake is extremely selfish of me. I’m… I’m sorry, Roman.”

Logan took one more breath before turning around to leave. He had no idea what the effects of his speech would be, and that scared him. He was in an entirely new territory. This was an unprecedented event, with no similar experiences to compare it to. He had ‘boldly gone where no man had gone before’, so to say.

Logan was so wrapped in his own panic, for that is what it was, he almost missed the imperceptible click of Roman’s door opening as he walked away. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed, and he prepared for angry words and scathing insults. Logan would face it, however. He turned around, and was met with a sight for some very sore eyes.

Roman held open his door an infinitesimal amount, peering through the crack. Through the small open space Logan could see the prince out of his usual outfit, the beautiful swath of his hair, and one very tearful eye. Logan opened his mouth without knowing what would come out, but the air was knocked out of him.

Roman flung the door open wide and his socked feet ate up the steps between them as he flung his arms around Logan, the force of his embrace almost tipping Logan over. An embarrassing ‘oof’ escaped him at the impact and his hands went up to grip the back of Roman’s jumper after only a second of hesitation.

Logan’s mind filled incredibly fast with all sorts of information: the scent of Roman’s hair, the warmth of his body, how Roman buried his head in Logan’s neck and the slight wetness that came from tears. The way Roman’s nose jutted into his neck, the almost imperceptible touch of Roman’s lips on his shirt collar. Logan’s body betrayed him in an audible catch of his breath as Roman clung to him harder.

“Roman, I-” Logan began in a faint whisper, but Roman only shushed him and tightened his grip, rocking them from side to side ever so slightly.

They stayed like that for Galileo knows how long when the prince peeled himself from Logan. Roman looked upon Logan with eyes so bright from unshed tears Logan would have believed there were stars in them.

“You never said anything. Not a word.”

Their conversation was as hushed as could be, the Mindscape and the world beyond it ceasing to exist and zooming in on the two of them, in this moment.

“I’m not good with words. When it comes to talking about feelings, I mean. You know this.”

“Don’t lie, Specs. That was one of the most eloquent and beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

Logan scrambled to find a breath within him as Roman smiled up at him. For one of the few times in his life, he found himself with nothing to say.

“It was moving, and heartfelt-” Roman continued, taking Logan’s hand and stepping back, towards his room. He paused in his motions and looked at Logan once more.

“-and it was incredibly romantic.” He said softly.

“I’m- I’m glad.” came Logan’s strangled reply. Roman smiled at him again and led him into his room. There they would sit and talk for hours, and Logan would hold Roman to his chest. They would confess to things bothering them and their hopes, dreams, and fears for the future. It would grow late, and Logan would give in and begin to card his hands through Roman’s hair as the prince drifted off to sleep.

There, in the black-blue of the sky of Roman’s window, scattered with stars and the slanting rays of the moon, Logan would look down upon the prince’s sleeping head and realize, though he had first doubted his abilities, he had been enough. Enough for Roman and for himself. He had been enough.

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Taglist:

@count-woe-laf @psychedelicships

#franklin writes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thomas sanders sanders sides #ts sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #logince #logince fanfiction #logan x roman #logic x princey #logic x prince #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfiction

[sidespromptblog]

The Accident

Warning: Medical scene, mention of broken bones, blacking out (once mentioned), cast, and Logan angst.

Summary: While out on a date with Remus and Janus, Logan falls and hurts his wrist.

Word Count: 1,631

“Are you sure that it’s alright?” Janus asked suspiciously, as his cold fingers gingerly touched the tinder flesh of Logan’s wrist. His eyes were narrowed as if he was already on high alert to see if Logan was going to dare even lying about something like this.

“It looks a little swollen,” Remus helpfully added, circling around them like a wild hyena protecting his little pack, his eyes barely stood still long enough to even get a glimpse of Logan’s wrist.

But when he did, without a moment’s worth of hesitation…

He cringed every time.

That should have told Logan everything he needed to know about the situation. Remus wasn’t making jokes, and was well past being worried. Janus was using his literal body as a shield so that no one could even dare to get close, and there wasn’t the slightest bit of sarcasm coming from him. Logan should have been more worried about the state of his wrist, in his writing hand no less. But all he could feel was the sharp throbbing of where Janus’ grip was, and the occasional fleeting touch from where Remus would look over his shoulder and down at his injury.

Stupid.

He had been so stupid.

Of course there would still be patches of ice, even with the weather being over the standard freezing of thirty-two. The wind chill matched with it being later time of day should have made it obvious, he had been too careless. Too…

Stupid.

“Logan?” Remus’ worried voice struck up again, as he took up the position on his other shoulder. “You’re not going to black out again are you?”

Ah yes, that one moment of pitch darkness the moment his head had connected with the frozen sidewalk. He doubted that any of them wanted to recall that, especially given the way that Janus had screamed and he had come to being cradled in Remus’ arms like a limp noodle.

Swallowing thickly Logan attempted a smile. “It hurts,” He honestly said, because what was the point in lying with a human lie detector right in front of him. “But, I’m sure that once we return back to Thomas’ mind, the injury will go away. Just like they’ve done before in the imagination… right?”

An uncertain whine curled in Remus’ throat, like he was a dog that had been left chained outside on a rainy day.

That alone told Logan that even he wasn’t exactly sure just how much the imagination could and couldn’t cure.

“No.” Janus firmly shook his head, “If we don’t know then there’s no use in going back and just causing you more pain. We’ll…” Here Janus grimaced just a little bit, the scales in his face shifting into something more socially acceptable. “We’ll have to take you to the hospital for an X-ray…”

Two groans accompanied this declaration.

It was almost three hours later that Logan was able to see the doctor in question.

But by far the most annoying and anxiety inducing tribulation was the fact that he had to be separated from the other two sides when he needed to have the X-ray done. Which he had known going in, of course he had known it. But knowing it and actually having to do it we’re two entire different things. When it had come to him leaving the mind space, he had never been alone. Usually he’d had Thomas, or some of the other sides to accompany him on his days out and to be without them for some terrifying and quite painful procedure, was… scary.

He was scared, and also quite a bit embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

Sitting back in the doctor’s office with both Janus and Remus on either side of him waiting for whatever news was to come, made him feel both worse and better at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled, a bolt of shame ramming itself into his guts.

A part of him wasn’t even sure what to be sorry for, but another part deep and loathing knew exactly what he was apologizing for.

Janus who had been staring ahead at the posters decorating the walls immediately snapped his attention back to Logan, his brows furrowing for a moment before an unreadable expression took over his face. It was an expression that both Remus and Logan knew all too well. “Sorry?” Janus asked, his voice carefully clipped. “For what might I ask.” Having just started he shifted his entire body to face Logan. “For having an accident? For slipping? For falling? For doing something that wasn’t your fault to begin with?”

Behind him Remus cringed back, they both knew what was coming.

“I ruined our day.” Logan tried to argue, trying being the key word there.

Just for Janus to immediately shake his head, his cold fingers seeking out Logan’s cheeks and cupping them carefully enough to avoid the scrapes on his face. The look on his face was adoring and yet exasperated at the same time, as his eyes watered but no tears seemed to fall in Logan’s presence.

“You,” Janus choked out, “Didn’t ruin anything. We can always have another day, hopefully with you being hurt a little less. It’s okay Logan… I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Behind him Remus dug his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s thick winter coat as he buries his face into the logical side’s neck. His bristly whiskers tickled as he merely held Logan in place, bestowing all the love he could possibly give to him.

A laugh then shook Remus’ middle, “Hopefully Thomas has insurance.” His muffled voice finally got out.

And just like that the other two sides were tearfully giggling, knowing that thanks to Virgil’s worrywart tendencies Thomas had the best possible medical insurance he could get. And whether Logan knew it or no, which he did, he was technically going to be committing insurance fraud simply by the fact that he looked so much like Thomas.

Almost another several hours later though, with a dark blue cast now seated on his hand and wrist with the instructions to come back in a months time it was time to go home.

“So,” Remus popped the word out of his mouth, as he took up the duty of spoon feeding Logan some ice cream before they actually had to go back. “What are you going to tell the others, you know… about the cast and everything?” There was a quick glance shared between him and Janus. “The truth?”

It took genuine effort to not snort in Remus’ face after swallowing his mouthful of ice cream, and by a lot of effort it obviously meant that he coughed right into the crook of his arm in an attempt to hide it.

“No.” Logan answered back almost immediately, “Are you kidding me?! Virgil would never let me leave the house again if I came back looking like this. Roman would more than a little bit blame you. Patton would go along with it, in an effort to keep me ‘out of harm’s way’, and Thomas would just be concerned.” He gestured with his newly casted arm, they all knew that if it was discovered that Logan had left to go on a date with Janus and Remus, and had come back with a broken wrist they would be dramatic as possible when it came to any future dates with the dark sides.

He wouldn’t allow that.

Janus hummed as he nodded his head, his lips twisting just a little at the unpleasant thoughts that came with the scenario that Logan had just explained. “So what are you going to do?”

Surely Logan couldn’t just hide in his room until a month passed, and then get the cast off.

“I’ll just stay in my room until it’s time to get the cast off,” Logan shrugged, “I’ll put a sticky note on the door saying that I’m working on a big project and I don’t want to be disturbed. They usually listen to my sticky notes, a lot better than me since there’s no actual listening involved.”

“Are they threatening, these sticky notes?” Remus teased.

Instead of replying to his teasing with a retort Logan merely rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of Remus’ shirt to pull him in for a short sighted kiss.

“You know,” Remus mumbled in between kisses, “You can just stay with us right? The couch is always open for you, and so is any of our bedrooms.”

Logan pecked one last kiss on the corner of the creative side’s mouth, a warmth stirring in his chest at the offer of another place to stay if he wished to.

But…

It would be easier to recover in his own bedroom without Janus’ or Remus’ room effecting him in anyway, and recovering from a broken wrist on the couch didn’t exactly sound like fun to him.

“I know Rem,” The warmth he felt blossomed onto his face as a loving smile. “And rest assured you and Janus will see me in this month. But my room is probably easier for me.”

Satisfied with his answer, Janus nodded as he threw away the plastic spoons and cups that they had been eating from. Finally ready to head on back to the mind space, as both he and Remus held tight to Logan’s hands on the way back. It’d be a while before they could go on another date again, and maybe a little bit longer before it was anywhere in the wintertime again. But that was okay, because he could wait.

So with him lovingly holding onto the blue cast that kept Logan’s broken hand safe from the world, Janus felt at peace for the first time since the accident.

Everything would be okay.

#ts logan sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #logan angst #ts janus sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts remus sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #intruloceit #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #wrist injury #injury #injuries

[thequibblah]

⭐️ would love some commentary on that dancing scene (or really any commentary on the various parties thrown by the marauders) from the party happening next to the Potions Club party ⭐️

WELL WELL WELL

"This is...a lot of trouble to go to." "It's the Marauders. They love trouble."

i love writing party scenes (as i'm sure you all know lol) and one of the best/worst things w the marauders parties is striking a balance between their, uh, audacious plans, and what's realistically possible at hogwarts without getting caught. (aka literally why i made up the dodgy lodgings). i went back and forth so long on whether or not they could plausibly have managed that with slughorn's dinner next door, but then was like ah whatever the party has to happen for plot reasons so.... plot ex machina??

anyway, i love using parties to establish character — what a brilliant stage of teenage performance they provide. i love contrasting the hogwarts parties to, say, evan wronecki's — for instance, how lily and co. are more at ease in the former, as seventh years, with their classmates hosting, than they were at evan's nye bash

i also love that it gives me space to establish who is and isn't popular, so to speak, but also who acts or doesn't act the way we presume popular kids will act

doe, for instance, who is by all accounts a level-headed and non-wild person, has a more exciting time on net at marauders' parties than mary (drinking game, kissing remus), though she's not a big drinker and isn't really into parties. but she's comfortable in her own little social circle at a bigger event (like with michael at evan's) and so isn't bothered at all by the marauders' do, because...

She did, in fact, trust the Marauders. Her general belief in the inherent goodness of people notwithstanding, she didn't think they would do anything to harm their friends. Intentionally.

this bit always makes me laugh

as with many things, i feel very saddened that i didn't get to make more out of the fools' olympics (although one could argue that The Dance was a pro) — as in, i wish i'd been able to squeeze more of it into the story itself. i could probably come up with a list of tasks and who completed them LOL

WAIT OH MY GOD I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIS it just might be my favourite part of this chapter

"How did you do that?" Gillian said, glancing between the other two girls. "Just — drink it without a second thought?" "Practice," said Mary. "Scottish — constitution," David said hoarsely. "I once drank some of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mass Remover," said Priya.

priya is all i aspire to be

can i say, too, it's hilarious to me how many people worried niamh would be a james love interest? i feel like you will not rest easy on that count until he and lily are together... but that is not where the danger lies babes

circling back to popularity/unpopularity, another fun outlier. gillian is first established, in 33, as someone with friends (we see her around sara and in the seventh-year ravenclaws' compartment) but she's not exactly at ease at the party either — recall how she hesitates when mary invites her. only later, in 38, do we realise that our opinion of her has been skewed by the narration (from doe, who naturally assumes any friendly, nice person must have a wealth of friends and be floating through life; and mary, who naturally assumes anyone she isn't bored by must have the social skills of a medieval noblewoman at court), and she's a bit of a pariah in her own house

david, on the other hand, is just flat-out not in his element. and not because of the drinking or the, er, general revelry (see: summer with mary!), even though he doesn't partake much in either. unlike doe, the company breaks rather than makes his enjoyment — he's acutely aware, the whole time, that his cooler, more liked brother is around:

"Not your scene?" "What gave it away?" said David drily. As one they looked at Chris...

...and mary has intuited as much too, even though she has a lot more in common, superficially speaking, with chris than david

so, i think while i was writing this chapter i made a post complaining about how, as much as i love juggling the constraints of historical fiction, i hate that music from the 70s limits me in terms of tracklists. i.e., when i say a certain record is playing i can't just hit shuffle and go somewhere entirely different to set the mood shortly thereafter

this problem was because i wanted, NAY, NEEDED, to have "martha my dear" playing in the aftermath of that mary and david interaction. of course, time passes in that section break, but since "come and get it," which they talk about it, is a sirius song (though it could be a mary song), and i feel too strongly about needle drops to let that conversation go without a soundtrack. germaine even correctly guesses the white album is on because of mary:

Apparently Mary got fonder of the White Album the drunker she was.

...and of course the song itself makes me squeal with how very mary it is — not that it is something she would listen to, necessarily, or identify with (it would hold up too close of a mirror, ha), but it sounds like it could've been written about her ("hold your head up, you silly girl/look what you've done/when you find yourself in the thick of it/help yourself to a bit of what is all around you," which really sums up the entirety of her portree holiday, lol)

BUT! if "martha my dear" is to play here, then i have some Serious Chronology Concerns. i knew germeline had to kiss and jily had to dance and ideally in that order. but what would those scenes be soundtracked by!!!! i was limited to side two of the white album!!!

so i did the healthy thing and panic-listened to the white album. "don't pass me by" was, right away, an easy lock for the dance, because it's danceable, but not in a way that would've scared lily off. lyrically, it feels GREAT for jily in this moment, on the cusp of lily's realisation ("waiting for your knock, dear [...] i don't hear it, does it mean you don't love me anymore?" vs OF COURSE "don't pass me by [...] 'cause you know darling, i love only you"). i feel about "don't pass me by" the same way as NYT critic nik cohn: it's "straight ahead and clumsy and greatly enjoyable, backed by a beautiful hurdy-gurdy organ," which, if that isn't everything i wanted to evoke with the dance itself!!!!!!

ok we'll circle back to this, but onward with the musical discussion

thus i had four songs to choose from, between "martha my dear" and "don't pass me by," for the germeline scene — "piggies," "blackbird," "i'm so tired," and "rocky raccoon." the latter is on my sirius playlist, so auto-no; "piggies" is, well, like that, so also a no. "blackbird" is a certified germaine classic that was written personally by paul mccartney for germaine, but it seemed too introspective for the moment. i don't think i'd ever listened to "i'm so tired" before this panicked searching, and honestly it must be some wild luck that it is. just SO RIGHT!!!! it's so lethargic and tortured and angsty and, well, a bit of a stoner song, so.... it's THERE

AND NOW for the dance! true story, i initially wanted jily to have a real conversation, after the party. i had the dance in there and then james would catch up with lily after to be like, "hey i was wrong actually, you should write to petunia." but then i realised i wanted james and sirius to have a conversation about the bike/money, and i wanted it to strike a different chord, tonally, than the jily conversation. then i realised it would be too much to have both and i'd need to condense that conversation into the dance. VERY nearly cut the dance in favour of the conversation but wow i am glad i didn't

The tinkling piano signalled the start of the next song; she extended a hand, very matter-of-factly, to James, "Come on, this is a good one."

not pictured: james having a fucking breakdown

obviously, i could have gone the route of a genuine dramatic dance, but as previously mentioned lily would have chickened out, and i wanted to have this be an experience she could look back on and pine about because of how fun it was and james totally doesn't like her back

Loath as she was to admit it, this most indelicate of waltzes suited the plodding chords of "Don't Pass Me By." And worst of all, once they had stopped stepping on each other's feet James started to sing, in the poorest possible Ringo imitation she had ever heard in her life.

by the way, attentive readers of blink three times will recall:

He finally starts to lead — thank goodness, because she’s not the one who was forced into formal dance lessons as a child...

so in 36, this is james being drunk, but it is also james being silly on purpose because not only is he JAMES and so he must take the mick, he also knows it will put lily at ease

okay, and this bit:

"Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue," they both shouted rather than sang, "'Cause you know darling—" Lily broke off, laughing, dimly aware that she had done so to avoid saying I love only you while staring right at him.

from the FIRST MOMENT i picked out "don't pass me by," i knew i knew I KNEW that lily would have thoughts about this line. at this point in the story if someone questioned her about it she would probably have a full-scale breakdown about her male friends vs her female friends ("but no... i suppose i wouldn't mind saying it to remus.... but that's different!" how is it different, lily? "it's different!")

anyway, the bottom line is she could NOT abide saying it. i enjoyed writing that because 1. same girl and 2. it felt like a nice bit of close foreshadowing for her realisation, which i knew was coming soon. so that's a really circular way of saying, i knew what it meant but ideally to readers it was just oh this will mean something far-off in the future!!! which is usually true for me but SURPRISE babey it was just two chapters away!!!

note btw that lily "falls for james"

Lily spun faster than she’d intended to. The room was a brief, kaleidoscope blur. Then there was James. “Jesus, Evans,” he said, steadying her as the next track began.

>:)

and after i thought tracklists would fuck me up, i turned them into my WEAPON!!

Huffing, she stepped out of his arms. (There were some songs you could sing along to with your mates, and “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” was not one of them.)

(so, you know, keep in mind that for the rest of this conversation, paul is in the background howling "no one will be watching us/why don't we do it in the road?")

also:

"...I’m not drinking tonight, but I’d better get the royal treatment after we win on Saturday."

and then what happened <3

wait jesus oh my god i really went hard on this huh

She only saw its result: the easy grin had given way to an expression so serious it was almost sweet.

LILY??????

and hey, remember when:

...because in chapter 26:

Dex’s measured opinions about the wizarding world seemed more the result of upbringing and inexperience than ill will, but Lily had not expected a radical change of heart.

...but then in 36:

He was right, damn it. And a part of her had known all along, had sought him out expressly so that he would say the opposite thing to her. He’d gone and proven her wrong. She broke the staring match first [...] “What brought on the change of heart?” “It’s a long story, and I expect it’ll have an unsatisfying end if I told it to you.” Lily scoffed, but James had on that maddening grin that meant he would not budge. “Oh, all right.” Softer, she added, “Thank you.” He began to back away, towards the bar. “It’s give and take, Evans.”

in conclusion, i never forget, besties

#i literally had to retype this entire fucking response #i hate tumblr #but anyway #be warned i talk about the beatles :/// in here #ask me #anon #director's cuts #36