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I’ve always wanted to write Wilmon fic but nothing I write sounds like their authentic voice. You always manage to get them so in character, sometimes it feels like you’re secretory in the writer’s room. I guess I’m asking if you have any tips or tricks for characterizing Wille/Simon

Surprise, I’m actually Lisa

But thank you anon, that’s so sweet. Let me kind of lay out my thoughts on how I write them and hopefully that will help.

In general, I think you should always start with a character’s flaws and build their reactions to events/people from there. It’ll also give you a good starting place for whatever emotional journey you want to take them on.

For Wille’s flaws: there’s a lack of emotional maturity here. Wille’s usually not intentionally mean, but most of his flaws come from how unaware he is and how he ends up unintentionally hurting the people around him but is often unable to understand how he did so because, to him, his actions are always, completely justifiable. He’s almost emotionally stunted in a way, and he kind of has trouble identifying what he’s feeling at any given moment which is what makes him tip towards anger and frustration more often than not. He reacts poorly to situations and people he can’t control, which is a hallmark symptom of anxiety. As a result, he has trouble putting words to his thoughts in a meaningful, constructive way. He’s impulsive and stubborn and self absorbed.

For Simon’s flaws: he’s actually incredibly emotionally intelligent and very perceptive - but he uses this intelligence to be intentionally cruel when he’s angry. For example, in arguments with Wille or Sara, he uses his intellect to pinpoint exactly what he needs to say to cut them down completely. He’s very, very good at getting the last word and sometimes he gets kind of consumed by that. Simon’s definitely not the super nice approachable guy at school - he’s a cunt to Wille on his very first day, he’s loud and outspoken, and hard headed. He’s also got a slightly hypocritical streak of idealism where he’s an idealist when it comes to the things that affect him, but is sometimes unable to offer the same grace to other people, especially when he’s angry or hurt. He also has a difficult time asking for help and being vulnerable.

Wille’s positives: he’s loyal, romantic, and he doesn’t have a wandering eye, he likes being coddled a little and is unafraid to ask for it, he’s quicker to admit that he’s wrong and knows when to give in, he’s also incredibly bold and brave - he’s unafraid to be the black sheep of the family, but he still loves his family and wants them to be proud of him.

Simon’s positives: he’s incredibly selfless and wants to take care of the people he loves and genuinely likes being there for them, he likes being supported but not protected - he loves that Wille respects his autonomy and thinks he’s capable, he has a strong sense of right and wrong and he stands up for what he believes in even if it might hurt him or if he might end up being wrong. he’s also a romantic and he definitely likes grand gestures and praise.

As for their dynamic, I always liken it to that old Christmas story where the husband sells his prized pocket watch to buy his wife a set of expensive combs, only for her to have cut and sold her hair to buy him a gold chain for his watch.

Just don’t be afraid to make them fight and annoy each other and not always say the right thing. It doesn’t take away from their love in any way.

Sorry this got out of hand, but I could talk about it forever. Hopefully that was even the slightest bit helpful ❣️

Hi🥹 I loved the new chapter and I’m so pumped you’re posting again!! I took a long break from fic and the wolfstar warehouse is no longer a thing I guess lmao - do you happen to have any current author recs? I follow you on ao3 and love the emails!!! but I don’t follow any other active writers and now of course I’m addicted again but I don’t know where to go! I’m starting all over again searching tags 😂 do you/ does anybody else have any suggestions for me?

Hello friend ☺️ thank you so much!! I will rec ANYTHING by @squintclover @therealrjlupin @blitheringmcgonagall @theresthesnitch @greyeyedmonster-18 @elder-millennial-trash @fuckboyregulus @wolfpants @aqua-myosotis @neondomino @fantismal @krethes @impishtubist @mabeltothknows and these are my friends so I might be a bit biased, but I stand by the fact that they are all phenomenal authors and anything they produce is going to be genius, I guarantee it.

If I'm being honest, I try not to read a lot of fic, because I have an irrational fear that I'll accidentally steal someone else's plot or trope or wording and I would hate myself.

But if anyone wants to jump in and make some recs, you're certainly welcome to and I would appreciate it!

one of my classmates called me pretty, and that made me really happy. :)

*gasps*

“Good boy.”

Carry on countdown Day 13: Devotion.

@bookish-bogwitch this one is for you.

Soft Christmas Drabbles: masterlist

Ficmas became my entire personality, here is all the things in one convenient area, in case you missed one or in case you want to re-read again

all is calm, all is bright- post-full moon christmas's arent so bad.

sweaty hands, full heart, can't lose- sirius meets the lupins.

its a wonderful life -sirius/remus watching Christmas movies. raising harry au

the best present - sirius learns to knit. wolfstar/raising harry au

a letter to you - remus gives sirius a gift. wolfstar @ hogwarts

grandmas cookies - on grief, love, and baking. wolfstar/raising harry au

traditions - lily and sirius have a christmas tradition of their own. (lilypad friendship fic)

do you not want to kiss me (pt 1) - jily, under the mistletoe

do you not want to kiss me (pt 2)- jily and a first kiss.

are we going to do this then?- jily, under the mistletoe, take two

good things take time - soft christmas moment with sirius/harry, raising harry au

ghosts - sirius drinks with ghosts...and his godson.

simply the best - lily convinces sirius to go to the slug club party with her. lily and sirius friendship fic.

a room of ones own- remus and harry surprise sirius for christmas.

(wrote this because i wanted to; wrote this because i think sirius would know when harry was missing his parents before harry knew himself)

--

Sirius had long since made himself comfortable on the grass, legs crossed and leaning backward onto his arms. Harry hadn't. Harry had been slouched, with his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans since they had arrived, his almost seventeen-year-old pitching a colossal fit when he realized where they were.

No, fuck you, Sirius!

Had been shouted so loud in a public place, Sirius nearly pulled the whole thing to drag his godson back home and have a conversation. Mr. Potter had always told Sirius that foul language was never warranted, but Sirius vividly remembered what it was like to be a teenager who felt they had no control; who felt out of control; who felt every last thing in the world was unfair and thought that some situations...definitely warranted a swear word or two.

This might have been one of them for Harry. Ambushed and brought to his parent's gravesite.

Harry was allowed to be angry at Sirius for this, but Sirius was allowed to sometimes play the I'm your godfather and I know it doesn't seem like it now but you'll thank me for this later card that he held in his hand. An ace up his sleeve he rarely revealed, but the days leading up to Harry's seventeenth felt like the time to. Sirius hoped this would be one of the times when Harry came to thank him an hour later, instead of years.

"Can we go?" he asked.

"No."

"This is stupid. It's a perfectly good day and you're having us waste it at a stupid gravesite. I could be playing Quidditch! I could...I could be meeting with my friends, I coul--"

"Did you have plans?"

"Well, no, but it's the principle of the thing, and now you're--this is kidnapping."

"You're free to go, Harry."

"You drove me here!"

Sirius nodded, "I did, but I'm not holding you, hostage," he brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the summer sun, "There's a bunch of shops...I'm sure one has a floo. You're welcome to go take a walk and figure it out...you are almost seventeen after all."

Harry scowled, "This is stupid."

"It can be stupid," Sirius shrugged, and turned his attention back to the decorated tombstone, with his best friend's name written across it. There were fresh flowers there, though less than when Sirius had first started visiting. Sirius wondered if there would come a day, 5, 10 13 years down the line where he'd come to pay James and Lily a visit and find nothing left behind and find their grave growing moss from visitors. He wondered how the names would look when the stone started to decay, fossilize, crack and turn. Do people still exist if no one is around to remember them? Would Sirius have to leave a will behind that stipulated every generation visit James and Lily just so they wouldn't be forgotten or be diminished to names whispered in passing like a rumor in a hallway of a boarding school?

"It's stupid."

"Yeah." Sirius patted the spot next to him on the ground for the fourth time since they had arrived, hoping this time Harry decided to join him. There was an eye roll and a final bit of protest, but Harry sat down, sitting cross-legged, and immediately started picking at the grass.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Thought you might have something to say."

"Well, I don't. It's s--"

"Stupid. I know," Sirius nodded, and sat up, bending his knees so he could rest his elbows on them. He took a breath. Harry wasn't wrong. Sirius felt foolish every time he did this and had for years. The first words were the hardest--as if those were the ones James was listening most for. If they were good enough, wise enough, funny enough maybe James would appear again. Like the magic words. A curse that could be broken with, "Hey, mate."

Harry snorted.

"Hey, mate. Lils. It's...me. Sirius," Sirius started, "I know I look a little different these days, but...it's me, I promise. We...live in a world where we don't have to prove our identities to other people now. When I open the door--"

"You still put your wand in people's faces if they come to the door," Harry interjected

"Fine, when Remus opens the door, we don't have to play a quick game of twenty questions. It's...nice, sort of. I haven't been able to shake my paranoia." Sirius said, watching as Harry's hands continued to pick at the grass, making a tiny pile next to a white trainer. "Been missing you lately, I think," Sirius continued, "...More than usual. I did the stupidest thing the other day--"

"Talk to a gravestone?" muttered Harry

"--I went to a bakery, there's a new one in Diagon Alley, this little witch makes tea cakes and I got a bunch to try, and I put an almond one in there. Didn't even realize until I brought the box home and Remus asked me why...." Sirius trailed off, tapping his fingers against the bone in his elbow.

Why did you get an almond one? We all hate almonds.

It's for James

Sirius had said it without even thinking. Done it without even second-guessing.

"Sixteen years and I'm still thinking of you...all the time. And your kid? Fucking spectacular. He's seventeen in a few days, and you know that means I can finally drop the whole parenting thing..." Sirius said lightly, "Boot him out and the like...tell him to get a job or something."

"Hey," Harry said, though it didn't have any of the bite from earlier, "He's joking. He told me last week that I had to stay at the house until I was forty-two, at least."

"Ah well, that was before you told me to go fuck myself."

"I didn't say that, I just said fuck you, if you're going to tell Mum and Dad that I was a brat at least make it accurate..."

"So sorry, babe," Sirius said, "Anyway...I love you both, and...supposed I just wanted to let you know that we're all doing alright, even if we miss you." Sirius looked at Harry, inclining his head as means of encouragement.

"I dunno what to say."

"I didn't exactly prepare a speech."

"I..."

"How about I give you some privacy."

"No," Harry's hand shot out to grab Sirius's own, immediately, and didn't move it, "Don't...don't go."

"I'm right here."

Harry looked at the tombstone, studying the flowers and the stone and the grass growing happily around it, "Hi Mum...Hi Dad. It's...it's me, Harry. I...think I have more hair from when you last saw me. That's what Moony says anyway...and...I'm...this is stupid. And I'm sorry I'm saying it's stupid, but Sirius always tells me just...to call something what it is and it helps make it better so I'm calling it stupid...because it is stupid that I'm about to turn seventeen and I have to sit on the ground, in the mud, on a hot fucking summers day to talk to my parents instead of getting to walk down the hall."

Once Harry started he couldn't stop.

Once Harry said I miss you, memories from birthdays gone by surfaced; his OWL exams, his best friends, his ex-boyfriend who hung the moon for him and then broke his heart, his current boyfriend who put the moon back together and gave it to him in a ceramic box labeled handle with care. The three of them came to visit once a year, but usually, Harry was too overwhelmed with tears to say much; they had come Harry's fifth year just after Christmas and it had been the same, though Harry had wanted to stay for hours, Sirius certain they were all going to catch their death in the cold despite the warming charms continuously being put up. This time was different though, and Sirius just sat and listened as his godson, his kid, poured every last thought he had, every last I love you onto his parent's gravestone, not bothering to catch the falling tears.

That's how gardens grow.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he finished, teenage body wracked with sobs and emotion that hadn't been released until that moment.

"This is stupid," Harry sniffed, making a point to wipe his face on Sirius's t-shirt.

"It can be stupid."

"Missing people is stupid."

"The stupidest thing in the world, love."

nothing makes me cry like the embankment tube station voiceover story !!! nothing !!!!!!!

the vocabulary of loss is the dictionary

This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

.

.

this line broke me-

(my sis is literally singing 'hold back the river' as if it isnt completely out of my control already)

Fault Lines pt. 2

Fault Lines pt 1 here

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and doing their best while also raising Harry.

(about 3k)

--

July 1987

Remus stayed behind to help clean up after the birthday party, their newly seven-year-old slowly losing steam minute by minute and heading for a sugar crash, judging by the quieting sounds from the sitting room.

“You were better with the mess this year…” Remus commented absently, putting paper plates into a large trash bag as Sirius stored the leftovers, magic moving around him to wipe off the counters.

“I’ve been…working on it.” Sirius replied, smiling a little over his shoulder, “But, in all fairness, seven-year-olds are better at mess control than six-year-olds…and this year the theme wasn’t Sandcastles.” Remus couldn’t help but smile back, thinking about Harry’s birthday last year. The first birthday after separating where they both tried to compensate and acquiesced to every ask their six-year-old had, including turning the backyard of Number 12 into a makeshift beach. Remus had stayed to help clean last year as well, watching as Sirius cleaned the floor free of sandy shoe prints three separate times. He also watched the whole party as Sirius made a mental list of the sticky doorknobs, spills in the kitchen, his smile never faltering and his voice never changing. As if nothing was bothering him in the slightest. Sirius always knew how to put on a good show, even when their relationship was pulling apart at the seams, and Remus’ would have to fight down tears in public spaces. Sirius could hold it together. Sirius could smile and say thank you, expert at lying between his teeth.

Part of Remus always circled back to wondering if that’s what started the rip in the first place. But the other part knew that there was no longer time for pointing fingers and it just was now.

“Still going to wash the floors tomorrow?”

“Shite, I'm washing them tonight after Harry goes to bed."

Remus laughed softly, the last of the used paper cups going into the trash bag as well. Sirius let out a contented sigh, eyes scanning the kitchen with a look that clearly said this will have to do, before extending a piece of cake in Remus’s direction.

“I already had some,” Remus told him, shaking his head.

“The tiniest slice. Even though I told you there was plenty. You deserve a proper one.” Remus accepted the slice, still unsure of when he should excuse himself to leave, thinking there should really be a book on this sort of thing. He noticed Sirius had his own piece in his hand as he jumped to sit on top of the counter, finally relaxing for the first time all day. Sirius was always the last to eat. Sirius always made sure everyone else got some before he did and on party days, focused more on Harry having a good time than remembering to eat himself. “Cheers, Moony."

“Cheers.”

Filling the gaps hadn’t gotten easier. Neither had dropping Harry off after the weekend, or leaving Number 12 on the rare occasions he had stayed for dinner, though he had found the courage to stay a few times now. It seemed unfair that Remus had to choose between loving his apartment and the way it felt to not be tiptoeing around arguments and his family. Though, if you asked Sirius, and Remus had, he felt it was unfair Remus got to be the one who left. Sirius felt it unfair he had to be the one who sat with the memories because his house was the one Harry felt comfortable in. Another show. Make sure someone else is comfortable before addressing what you need.

Remus sometimes wondered if his own selfishness was what caused Sirius to start pulling at the existing rip in the first place.

Did I push you away?

Did you ever love me or did you just want to make me happy?

Usually, Sirius was the one who took the step to make the palatable silence between them feel less awkward; less jarring. Remus noticed that in addition to not minding mess nearly as much, Sirius had also stopped doing that. Sirius had stopped doing a lot of things for Remus when he realized he didn't have to anymore.

Some days Remus missed it. He had admittedly grown accustomed to a life with someone who catered to him. Not just financially. But Remus missed coming home from work to dishes that were already done, waking up to a kid who was already dressed for the day, to favorite desserts and thoughtful notes left on bathroom mirrors. He missed having someone who always corrected baristas when they got his order wrong. Remus had drunk a lot of incorrect coffee since being separated.

Did I ever say thank you? How many times did I roll my eyes instead?

“It’s…the sun is going down.” Remus tried, around a mouthful of chocolate cake, wincing as he heard the sentence leave his mouth.

“It happens every day,” Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “You know…we used to be good at talking to one another. We used to be friends.”

“Yeah, how’d we do that?”

“I…think we would just…think things and then say them out loud.”

“Okay.”

“So...how are you?”

“You know…still pretty lousy most days actually, but today was good.” Remus finished, already bracing himself for Sirius to return with an answer that would add insult to injury. Already bracing for I’m just fine; I’m enjoying being single again; We get on swimmingly without you.

“Me too.”

--

June 1988

“I don’t understand why you’re still insisting you play by their stupid rules, Remus! He’s your kid just as much as he is mine. I know it, you know it, they’re just--”

“Because I can’t afford to break the rules, Sirius! How is that going to look?”

“If you do I’ll just--”

“And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. This isn’t something your piles of money and last name can just--”

“It is actually. You’re so fucking stubborn…”

“And you’re not?”

“Just…” Sirius made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat as he continued packing a trunk for Harry for the month. Their kid was spending the afternoon with Andromeda, giving the two of them time to work out any particulars and argue without the fear of their almost eight-year-old overhearing. Aside from losing his best friend in the divorce and the hangovers he endured coping with the fall-out when Harry was with Remus for the weekend, trying not to argue in front of Harry had been the hardest part. Sirius was always so proud at Hogwarts and the years following that he and Remus rarely argued. They rarely fought.

Love is the easiest thing in the world. He had said. And maybe somewhere Sirius still believed that because he didn’t love Remus any less now that he had an apartment across town and a whole life that Sirius didn’t get a play-by-play of. Love could be easy. Relationships weren’t though, and it was more common now that they would meet up while Harry was at school to calmly argue at coffee shops. Public places to settle disagreements, where they both had to keep their heads, never wanting to cause a scene, and not wanting to move backward. Because the first months had been full of name-calling and shouting matches that left both of the high and dry and bleeding out. Remus waved the white flag first.

“It’s been over two years at this point. You have a job and a flat and a car that I’m sure you drive very cautiously in. You've taken him to Healer check-ups, you've been on time to meetings... Just let me appeal--”

“It is not your job to intervene, Sirius.”

“Like hell it’s not!”

“Why are you arguing with me about this? All it means is you get Harry less.”

“I know.”

“You lose.”

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to win? I don’t want to win this one because that means Harry loses. He’s the one caught in the middle of this,” Sirius told him, hastily throwing socks into the trunk, not bothering to count how many there were or if they were matched properly, “And he’s the one who is missing out on spending time with you because the adults just couldn’t keep their shit together. That’s bullocks.”

Remus smiled softly, “You’re not folding his pants? This is a very messy trunk.”

“Shut up.”

“Sirius, come on, don't--”

“No, I mean it, shut up for one second,” Sirius said taking a breath as he closed the dresser drawer, flicking his wrist so the pants and socks would organize themselves in the trunk. Even though he knew it would be ruined the second Harry unpacked at Remus’s and that when Harry came back at the end of the month, it would be haphazardly thrown in. This was the second summer they had done this. This was the second summer Sirius would spend all of June alone in his big empty house, crossing off days on the calendar until his kid came back and the walls of Number 12 could be filled with laughter instead of ghosts. They had both agreed to this arrangement, but that didn’t stop the frown appearing on Remus’ face when he dropped Harry off the last day of June a year ago. It didn’t stop Sirius from looking out the window of Grimmauld Place a half-hour later to see Remus still parked there, tears running down his face.

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make this about me. It’s just…hard. This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

But Remus didn’t hear the times Harry started calling for him and then had to stop himself mid-sentence. And Remus wasn’t around the first week of July where Harry couldn’t stop talking about the park near Remus’s flat and the time they had ice cream for dinner. Remus wasn’t there for all the bedtimes Sirius tried to read the book Harry had been reading with Remus only to be told you’re doing it wrong and it’s okay, I’ll just wait. Sirius didn’t want either of them to be a vacation destination--he wanted Harry to have roots in two places.

Point A.

Point B.

So no matter what happened, Harry would always have two clear places to go.

“This isn’t about money,” Sirius started, once the blood in his brain had settled and he could think straight, “Maybe at first it was…and I think if you take a second think about it, you’ll admit that you weren’t ready to have a five-year-old staying with you for an extended period of time when you first moved either…”

Remus chewed his lower lip for a moment, “No, you’re right. I wasn’t.”

“But it’s not anymore. It’s not about…I’m not just throwing money at you, Remus.”

“The galleons in Harry’s trunk say differently.”

“It’s pocket money!”

“He’s eight, how big do you think his pockets are?” Remus asked but there was no heat to his question. It was the same tone and same expression that Remus used to wear when Sirius would go overboard with baby clothes or toys.

“So I’m…indulgent. Okay? I admit that. But maybe you can admit you’re being stubborn about this? Harry deserves more than every other weekend with you. And to be honest, you know I can’t read and his books are getting more and more words in them.”

“You can read…” Remus smiled a little and sighed, “What is admitting it going to do? We signed a contract.”

“Contracts can be amended.”

“To what?”

“What do you want?” Sirius asked, though he already knew what the answer would be. All the time. So he’s mine. Usually with ex-boyfriends, you could go the rest of your life and never hear their name again. It was much harder to move on when the ex was your husband and his name came out of your child's mouth every other breath. “I mean, obviously we can’t…the all together under one roof thing isn’t going to work. So, what do you want to do? Just tell me and I’ll be down at the ministry and I won’t leave until--”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I don’t need you to fight for me anymore.” Remus told him, eyebrows knitting together, “That’s not your job anymore.”

“It’s always my job.”

“No. You aren’t just going to sweep in and handle this for me but--”

“For fucks sake, Re--”

“Let me finish, would you?” and Sirius crossed his arms, the trunk long forgotten as he stared at his ex-husband expectantly, “You don’t get to handle this. Because it is not a you situation. It’s a we situation. So we can go handle it together.”

We.

Maybe there was a different version of us to be found.

“I can work with that.” Remus rolled his eyes at the response as Sirius walked to Harry’s closet, going through t-shirts, trying to remember which ones were his favorite to wear at the moment. Blue.

“Hot head…”

“Stubborn arse.”

--

December 1989

“I don’t think there are enough presents here,” Remus mused looking around at the towering boxes of gifts on the floor. It was after midnight, and as usual most of the gift wrapping was left until the last minute, Remus sitting in the parlor of Number 12 with Sirius a bottle of firewhiskey between them. It would’ve taken less time had they both not wanted to have at least two very stiff drinks following Christmas Eve dinner at the Weasleys before starting wrapping. The first hour after Harry went to bed was spent recounting the evening, a back-and-forth occurring between the two of them that had been pushed aside years ago. Like a double-trapeze artist act at the circus that had retired and came back around for a farewell tour, Remus still remembered how to counter quick remarks from Sirius. And for the first time in such a long, long, time, had been thankful to have Sirius next to him at the Weasley’s dinner table while he bit his tongue and they shared looks that no one else understood.

Dusting off the cobwebs of a foreign language both of them had forgotten to practice. Tongues were clumsy around the words, pronunciation a bit off, but a conversation could be had nonetheless.

“Kid is spoiled.” Sirius returned, “James and Lily would hate this. Christmas is about love, not about presents, Sirius," he finished in an impression of James that Remus hadn't heard in quite some time.

“He was such a bloody tosser sometimes,” Remus smiled around the rim of his glass, “Tell us all it’s not about presents and it’s about a feeling but you know he’d be the first one writing us about what he got from his parents.”

Sirius laughed, “Like it was a contest too. We get it, Prongs, you had a good childhood. No need to rub it in our faces. I remember one year, I think I had gotten a set of dress socks from my parents…this whole new, expensive wardrobe, and a magical planner to help me organize my classes. James writes me with Pads, I got a new broom and my Mum made my favorite cookies! Honestly, more--”

“Jealous of the cookies, right? Mrs. Potter’s were the best.”

“They were…”

“You make them pretty well too,” Remus told him, taking a sip of his drink. The fireplace crackled quietly, warmth enveloping the both of them. “You think they’d be upset?”

“About what?”

“Us?”

“I…can’t think about that.” Sirius told him, “I do sometimes and it gets way too dark up there," he said tapping the side of his skull with a tattooed finger, "and…it’s better I don’t. I think…they’d just want Harry to be happy and taken care of…and if we’re happy too, even better. But not required."

"Like a side effect?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Remus looked up from the amber liquid in his glass to meet Sirius’ eyes from across the room. The same dark curls, as thick as it was at seventeen. The same lopsided smile that Remus fell hook, line, and sinker for. Except now he was 29 and Remus wasn’t falling, wasn’t hurting, wasn’t anything but glad to be able to sit in a room with his best friend without wanting to claw his eyes out or play the blame game.

“You…you know…what I realized?” Remus asked, Sirius’ eyes meeting his own.

“Hm?”

The ache is gone.

“I don’t think we’ve been in a room this long together in…years. And…the funny thing is, I’m still looking forward to being here tomorrow. I don’t even want to pretend I’m going to the lav when I’m actually smoking out the window.”

“I knew you were doing that…”

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, because that’d be very hypocritical of me when I say I need to go to check the wards when I’m actually smoking.” Remus laughed, Sirius’ smile catching the firelight as he spoke again, “It was rough waters there for a little bit, Moons…but, I think we did alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Except, you know…James and Lils would really hate that we’re still smoking.”

BRUH -

where were you all this timeee???! we are practically soulmates-

hey i'm lina, i'm 17 and i draw shitty things

she/her

bi

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