notenoughdramaaa

[notenoughdramaaa]

I can't even explain how much Starchaser coded this song is so, I had no choice but to write this.

@jegulus-microfic

April, come he will. When streams are ripe and swelled with rain

James as he huddled under the eaves of the castle, squinting at his watch. He sighed, the water dripping from his hair onto the glass, blurring the time. Late. He was always late.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled his attention, and he glanced up. A figure broke through the rain, running toward him. James couldn’t look away as the pale form grew closer, sharp and distinct even against the storm. Regulus.

He stopped short, just inches away. Rain traced rivers down his face, clinging to his lashes, and his chest rose and fell as though he’d run for miles. For a moment, neither of them moved. James watched as Regulus’s hand lifted—tentative, deliberate—and brushed the wet hair from James’s forehead.

“You’re soaked,” Regulus said softly, his lips curling into a smile that made the storm seem quieter.

James couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. His eyes trailed down to the white shirt clinging to Regulus’s chest, translucent and plastered to his skin. Freckles, faint and scattered like constellations, dusted his shoulders and arms. James’s breath caught, and he looked back up, meeting Regulus’s gaze.

God, he’s beautiful, James thought.

Regulus’s smile widened, as though he knew exactly what James was thinking, and that was it. The careful dam of restraint broke.

“I don’t care,” James murmured, the words barely audible over the rain. Then he moved, closing the space between them in one swift motion.

His hands found Regulus’s hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled him close, their bodies colliding like thunder. He kissed him hard, the rain pressing them together in a shivering, breathless blur.

May, he will stay. Resting in my arms again

James leaned back against a gnarled tree, his arms wrapped snugly around Regulus, who rested against his chest, a book propped open in his hands.

James could feel the steady rise and fall of Regulus’s breath, the way his body fit so perfectly against his own, as if they’d been made to fit together like this. He glanced down at the book, catching glimpses of dense text and intricate diagrams, a potion, something powerful by the looks of it. He didn’t give the book much thought. Right now, nothing else mattered.

For a moment, the thought flickered, someone might be looking for them. They’d been gone too long, and Regulus wasn’t one to slip away unnoticed. But James pushed the thought aside. He didn’t care. Not today. Not now.

He propped his chin on top of Regulus’s head, inhaling the clean, earthy scent of him, mint, chamomile and something distinctly Regulus. Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to the boy's dark hair, lingering as if he could anchor this moment in time.

James couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content, so whole. There was something grounding about holding Regulus, the weight of him, the way he melted into James’s arms as if he belonged there.

June, he'll change his tune. In restless walks he'll prowl the night

The air was heavy as James lingered in the shadowed corner of Grimmauld Place. It was late, past nine, maybe later, but he didn’t care. The street was quiet and James’s eyes remained fixed on the tall, dark figure moving toward the Black family’s door.

Regulus.

James’s heart pounded as he stepped out of the shadows, his hand darting out to catch Regulus by the wrist. Regulus froze, startled, his sharp intake of breath cutting through the stillness. His wide eyes, pale in the moonlight, darted to James’s face, and for a moment, he looked terrified, like he’d been caught doing something forbidden.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus hissed, his voice tight and barely above a whisper. Before James could answer, Regulus tugged him into a narrow alley, hidden between two old brick buildings.

“Regulus—”

“What are you doing here?” Regulus repeated, his tone edged with urgency. His grip on James’s arm was firm, and his gaze flitted nervously toward the street as though expecting someone to appear.

Instead of answering, James leaned forward and kissed him, desperate and unthinking. For a brief moment, Regulus kissed him back, his lips soft but hesitant. But then he pulled away, his hands pressing flat against James’s chest.

“What’s going on?” James asked, breathless, searching Regulus’s face in the dim light. Something was wrong. He could feel it. “You’re acting weird.”

Regulus avoided his gaze, glancing down at the cobblestones. “You’re crazy. People could’ve seen us.”

“I don’t care,” James said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “You haven’t been answering my owls. I haven’t seen you since we left Hogwarts, and, Merlin, I miss you.”

Regulus flinched at the words, his shoulders dropping. He looked up at James for a fleeting second before turning his head toward the darkened street.

“My family’s been watching me,” he murmured, the faintest crack in his voice. “Things are… different now. Since Sirius left.”

James reached for him, gently resting his hands on Regulus’s arms, but the boy stayed rigid, as if bracing for something James couldn’t see. “What do you mean?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his face unreadable. “I don’t have the freedom Sirius had. They… they can’t lose another son.” His voice broke on the last word, barely audible. “It’s worse now. Everything’s worse.”

James’s heart ached at the sight of him, so fragile and closed off, and he fought the urge to pull him into his arms. “Regulus,” he said softly, leaning closer, “you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Regulus interrupted, his voice sharper now, defensive. He looked up at James, something flickering behind his eyes, fear, maybe, or regret. “You don’t understand. I can’t just leave like Sirius did. I don’t get to be free.”

July, he will fly. And give no warning to his flight

The room felt too small, the walls closing in with the weight of their argument. James’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Regulus stood across from him, trembling, his pale face streaked with tears.

“Tell me it’s not true,” James demanded, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Tell me Dorcas was wrong. Tell me you’re not with him.” His voice cracked, but the anger burned hotter than the hurt.

Regulus shook his head, his lips trembling as he tried to speak. “James, listen to me, please—”

“No!” James roared, stepping closer, his frustration spilling over. He grabbed Regulus by the shoulders, shaking him. “I don’t want your excuses. Just say it! Say you’re not a killer!”

Regulus flinched at the word, his breath hitching. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a moment, he just stared at James, his lips parted but no words coming out. His silence was deafening.

“Regulus!” James’s grip tightened, his voice breaking. “Say it!”

More tears spilled down Regulus’s cheeks, and he shook his head, his whole body trembling. “What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice so soft James almost missed it. “What will you do if it’s true?”

James froze, his heart plummeting as if the floor had been ripped out from beneath him. His hands fell from Regulus’s shoulders, and he stepped back, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I—I’d never forgive you,” he said, his voice hollow and raw.

Regulus let out a choked sob, his shoulders sagging under the weight of James’s words. He looked at James, shaking his head slowly as more tears fell. Then, with trembling hands, he reached for his sleeves.

“No,” James said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

But Regulus didn’t stop. He pulled his sleeves up, exposing the pale skin of his forearm. There, stark against his flesh, was the mark. Black and unmistakable.

James’s breath caught in his throat. “Reg—”

“Don’t,” Regulus interrupted, his voice sharp and broken all at once. He yanked his sleeves back down and took a shaky step back. His eyes met James’s for a fleeting moment, filled with a pain so deep it made James’s chest ache. “Don’t say anything. Just… don’t.”

James opened his mouth, but no words came. He reached out, his hand hovering in the space between them, but Regulus turned away before he could touch him.

“Regulus, wait—”

But Regulus didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He walked to the door, his steps unsteady, and disappeared into the night.

August, die he must. The autumn winds blow chilly and cold

The knock was loud, frantic, and relentless, shattering the stillness of the night. James stirred, groggy and disoriented, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. He rubbed his eyes as he stumbled to the door, his heart already racing from the urgency of the sound.

When he opened it, Sirius stood there, his face pale and streaked with tears. His dark hair clung to his damp cheeks, and he reeked of firewhiskey.

“Sirius?” James asked, his voice thick with sleep as he adjusted his glasses. “What—what’s going on?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He stepped forward, his movements unsteady, and pulled James into a crushing hug. James froze, his best friend’s sobs shaking them both.

“He’s dead,” Sirius choked out, his voice cracking.

“What?” James whispered, his mind struggling to catch up. He pulled back just enough to see Sirius’s face, red and swollen from crying. “Sirius, what are you talking about? Who’s dead?”

Sirius’s lips trembled as he stared at James, his grey eyes filled with a pain that made James’s stomach churn. “Regulus,” he said, his voice barely audible. “He’s dead, James. My brother’s dead.”

The words hit James like a curse, stealing the air from his lungs. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head as if he could will it not to be true. “No, that—Sirius, that can’t—”

James felt his knees buckle, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him. His heart twisted painfully in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the tears that began to spill down his face. He clung to Sirius, his mind a haze of disbelief and devastation.

He thought of Regulus—Regulus in the rain, smiling at him as if he were the only person in the world. Regulus in the meadow, his head resting against James’s chest. Regulus whispering his fears in the shadows of Grimmauld Place.

And now, Regulus was gone.

“How—how could this happen?” James whispered, his voice trembling. “How could he just…”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said again, his voice hollow. He buried his face in James’s shoulder, his tears soaking through the fabric. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

September, I remember. A love once new has now grown old

James stood in front of the mirror, his chest tight as Euphemia carefully adjusted his tie.

“You need to smile, James,” she said softly, her voice warm with affection. “It’s your wedding day.”

James nodded, though the smile that tugged at his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. The weight of everything still hung heavy on his heart.

The door creaked open, and Sirius stepped inside.

“Can I have a moment with him, Mum?” he asked Euphemia.

She smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Sirius’s ear. “Of course, darling. I��ll be in the next room if you two need anything.”

When the door clicked shut behind her, Sirius leaned against the dresser, his eyes never leaving James’s.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, the concern in his voice raw.

James swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sirius didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he straightened up and cleared his throat, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I heard an old superstition,” he said, voice light but with an edge of something deeper. “For good luck on a wedding day, the bride needs something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.”

James gave a half-smile, despite himself. “I’m not the bride, Sirius.”

Sirius chuckled softly, then looked at James with something almost wistful in his eyes. “I know, but I think you could use something old.”

Without another word, Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small photograph. He handed it to James, who took it gingerly. The picture was worn at the edges, faded slightly, but still clear.

It was Regulus. He was smiling at the camera, his pale blue eyes sparkling with something carefree, his dimples on full display. The sight of him made James’s heart lurch.

The tears that had been threatening all day began to spill over, and James blinked them away, his throat tight.

Sirius, standing just a few steps away, reached into his own pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief, holding it out to James.

“Here,” Sirius said gently. “This is your something blue.”

James took the handkerchief, his hands trembling, and dabbed at his eyes, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Sirius stood quietly by just waiting.

When James finally looked up, his voice broke slightly, but he managed a small laugh through his tears. “You’re right,” he said, wiping his eyes. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Sirius’s smile was soft, almost sad. “Regulus loved you, James. He has forgiven you, I hope you know that.”

[notenoughdramaaa]

If you're one of the 5 people who actually reads the shite I write, I just updated Regulus Black and the Day He Messed Everything Up and A Bed by Any Other Name. Feel free to drop by and leave your love/hate in the comments. I’ll be heading home for my birthday (by car), so I’m trying to wrap up at least one of them before I hit the road. Since I’ll be driving down with my roommate I'll be doing all the driving, I won’t be able to stick to my usual update schedule. So, enjoy

[notenoughdramaaa]

Okay, this is probably the gayest post I’ve ever made (and that’s saying something, considering I write cheesy fanfics) but I need to stand up and bring some justice to my bro Sirius Black. There’s an overwhelming number of posts on Tumblr, not to mention fanart, that give a very feminine interpretation of Sirius, and I’m over it.

Everywhere I look, I see posts about Remus loving these overly feminine traits in Sirius. I’m done with it. Sirius is not a girl, and he doesn’t have wide hips and a tiny waist. I don’t care how much you want a petite Sirius Black with a huge ass and a tiny waist it just doesn’t work. It’s unrealistic!

If you want to write or draw a trans Regulus Black like that, fine, but not a cis Sirius. It’s just not how biology works

So, let’s take a moment to appreciate the actual male anatomy and all the features Sirius Black would have that are 100% worthy of worship by Remus Lupin.

- Apollo’s Belt (Adonis Belt): Those V-lines, sharp and defined, even though Sirius isn’t a gym guy he's got those. Remus can’t help but stare when Sirius takes his shirt off it's distracting and unfair.

- Broad Shoulders: The kind of shoulders that make his shirts fit perfectly and give him that natural confidence. Remus probably loves leaning his head there after a long day.

- Throat: The way Sirius swallows or tilts his head is straight-up sinful. Remus definitely thinks it’s too erotic to be allowed.

- Hands: Calloused yet elegant, strong fingers with faint scars from Quidditch and dueling. You know Remus is obsessed with the way they feel, whether holding a book or trailing along his skin.

- Jawline: Sharp and angled, perfect for kisses, scruff, and maybe a little biting. Let’s be honest, Remus would probably map it out a hundred times over.

- Chest: Slightly scarred, maybe a bit freckled, and absolutely mesmerizing when Sirius runs his hand through his hair and stretches.

- Lips: Chapped from the cold but always tugging into that signature smirk. They're squarish looking and Remus would kiss them just to shut him up.

- Back: Broad and strong, with a natural curve that makes it perfect for Remus’s hands.

- Voice: A bit raspy and although not technically a “body part,” Remus definitely finds it worship-worthy.

Let’s stop pretending Sirius is some skinny, dainty waif and embrace the fact that he’s a man with a man’s body, and Remus Lupin would absolutely be obsessed with every part of it. Justice for Sirius!

[notenoughdramaaa]

Sometimes I feel sorry for myself—like right now. I've been listening to Golden Hour on repeat for thirty minutes because I wrote a fanfic where James plays this song on the piano for Regulus. It's in that moment Regulus realizes, for the first time, that he loves this weird kid, and, for the first time in his life, he's at peace with being gay. And here I am, doubting my own sexuality, suffering over a song that only means something to me, because I'm the only one who actually read the shit I wrote.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Yesterday, I got the results from the poll, and guess what: A Bed by Any Other Name won! I just dropped the first chapter. It was a close call, with Wonderwall leading at first, but in the end, it seems people preferred a bit of Marcel Proust over anything else, not that I’m judging, I do too!

Also, I realized the title might sound a bit... suggestive, It’s not that kind of fic. There’s no sexual content at all. The title is actually a play on the line “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” from Romeo and Juliet. Juliet says this to Romeo to express that she doesn’t care about his last name—she loves him for who he is, not what he’s called. Similarly, the idea in my fic is that it doesn’t matter to James who Regulus parents are, he’s in love with him, no matter what.

There’s also a double meaning: Regulus, struggling with his illness, feels trapped by it. He doesn’t care what the sickness is called; all he knows is that it’s destroying him, piece by piece. So if a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, then a bed—no matter what you call it—would still feel like a burden to Regulus. So voila!

Does that make sense? I came up with this while taking a classic literature class, needless to say I was very enthusiastic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62252503

[notenoughdramaaa]

HELP ALL THE SONGS I WANTED TO SEND U ARE ALREADY IN YOUR PLAYLIST AHBSJAHSDB THEY WERE AL SUFJAN STEVENS SONGFS 😭😭😭

AAAAAH, FINALLY, SOMEONE WITH GOOD TASTE! I'm still interested in any missing songs. I can share a collaborator link with you if you'd like!

[notenoughdramaaa]

why is this the only Jegulus playlist without taylor swift??? what are you even doing here???

I never thought my first ask would be this, but oh well...

I went searching for a good Starchaser playlist all over spotify, and all I could find were Taylor Swift-filled playlists—everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, nothing against her, but this playlist? It’s already perfect without it!

It’s got Golden Hour—can’t you just picture James sitting at a piano, singing Golden Hour to Regulus? And April Come She Will, which feels like a song James would’ve written about Regulus. Then there’s Back to Black—that’s practically Regulus talking to James after their breakup when he went back to Lily. And My Funny Valentine? That’s pure Regulus adoring James.

This playlist doesn’t need Taylor Swift signing about another boy in a cardigan to hit all the right places. Don’t break my poor, frail heart.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Okay, so I’ve got 3 fics sitting around gathering virtual dust, and I want to post them on AO3 (despite the fact they're basically garbage) but I can’t decide which one deserves to go first. They’re all fully written, but I’m too indecisive, so I’m making you all choose for me. Here’s the lineup:

1. Wonderwall

Regulus gets kicked out by his lovely (sarcasm) parents and shows up at Sirius and Remus’s place with nowhere else to go. Awkward timing, because Remus had this whole romantic ski trip to the Swiss Alps planned where he was gonna propose to Sirius. But hey, family drama waits for no one, so Remus invites Regulus to join them in an attempt to fix things between the Black brothers. Meanwhile, James is working at a resort owned by his parents in the Alps (because why not), and he and Regulus cross paths. Cue romance, angst, and lots of snow.

Also, fun fact: I wrote this whole thing in one weekend after I twisted my ankle trying to ski in Jackson Hole last December (thanks to my roommate) It’s a longfic. It’s a mess. I love it.

2. While You Were Sleeping

Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like—a While You Were Sleeping AU. Regulus works in the Ministry Archives, silently pining over Auror James Potter, who doesn’t even know he exists. One day, Regulus saves James from what could’ve been a tragic accident, and somehow, everyone ends up thinking he’s engaged to James. Oh, and James? He’s in a coma. While hanging around James’s family and friends, Regulus ends up falling in love with the real James he gets to know (without actually talking to him, oops). Everything’s sweet until James wakes up.

Expect misunderstandings, cute moments and possibly second hand embarrassment.

3. A Bed by Any Other Name

Regulus has hypercalcemia, his body’s basically giving up on him, and surgery is his only hope. Problem? He needs someone to look after him until then. His parents are conveniently in France, so guess where he ends up—Sirius’s house. Sirius is an artist married to Remus, a college professor. Regulus might have a tiny crush on Remus, but things really get interesting when he meets James Potter, a Literature professor who’s obsessed with Marcel Proust and has a thing for over-the-top romantic gestures.

This fic is about illness, recovery, love, and a whole lot of Marcel Proust out of context. You're welcome.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Am I crazy, or is my roommate actually Sirius Black? Help me decide:

At first, I thought he gave off major Barty Crouch Jr. vibes—you know with all the sluttiness—but now I’m not so sure. The chaos is too casual. Too effortless. Honestly, it’s starting to feel like he’s just one enchanted motorbike away from being Sirius Black himself.

I'm a sophomore in college, and I share a dorm with this French guy. It’s just the two of us in here. Let’s get straight to the facts:

- He doesn’t have a job. Doesn’t need one. His family’s apparently filthy rich, but he spends his time thrifting because he thinks it’s cool to look poor. He’ll come back with random junk and be like, “It’s so vintage.” Sir, that’s crap!

- Today, I got back from work, exhausted, and there he was—sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eating a bowl of rigatoni with cheese, beans (yes, beans), and MY mushrooms. MY mushrooms. When I said something, this dude had the audacity to offer me some. When I refused and pointed out that those were my Great Value mushrooms, he just went, “I don’t see why you’re so upset. It’s not like they were morel mushrooms.” Sir???

- He curses me in French all the time. Okay, I can’t be 100% sure it’s actual cursing because it’s French, but it sounds like cursing, and the vibe checks out.

So yeah. Am I losing it, or am I living with Sirius Black? Please advise.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Does anyone know what the heck happened to Mischief Productions and why they disappeared from the face of the earth?

[notenoughdramaaa]

The Maurice Manifesto

No one is talking about Maurice, and I’m taking that personally. The greatest gay novel and film to ever be created —E.M. Forster crafted a love story so delicate, so defiant, that he buried it for decades to protect it from a world too cruel to understand.

It’s a master piece, It’s got repression, yearning, class critique, forbidden love, and a happy ending that feels like a quiet rebellion. Hugh Grant is almost too beautiful, James Wilby radiates doomed poetry, and Rupert Graves is serving serious Harry Styles energy.

Maurice walked so the rest of queer cinema could even crawl. Do yourself a favor and watch/read it, and then come cry with me in the corner of a candlelit library. Welcome to The Gay Gaze. First entry: Maurice. You’re welcome.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Ever wondered how Regulus would react if he ended up in an alternate reality where he's not just friends with his older brother but his friends too—and James Potter, his all-time crush, seems jealous of him? Yeah, me too. So, I wrote it, and the new chapter just dropped. Go check it out

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61151059/chapters/158395090

[notenoughdramaaa]

Today, I hung out with a couple of friends, and somehow, I found myself discussing David Bowie with a chubby blond guy who had a runny nose, another guy wearing rounded glasses who kept using the phrase "in matter of fact," and a random dude with shoulder-length black hair and tattoos on his fingers, who used "fuck" like it was a comma. As I sat there with these three strangers, I couldn't help but think, What the hell is going on? I mean, seriously—how did my college buddy manage to meet Sirius, James, and Peter in the middle of nowhere, Idaho? And most importantly: Where was Remus?

[notenoughdramaaa]

Absolutely no one: crickets

Me: You know what the world needs? A very long Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald fanfic. For no reason. At all. You're welcome.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Marcel Proust was a man both blessed and cursed with the ability to love beyond time itself. In a letter to the French poet Anatole France, he writes with such raw vulnerability: "I have built, deep in my heart, a chapel filled with you." And honestly? This line just screams James to me.

James Potter, with his too-big heart and his reckless, unrelenting way of loving, would absolutely worship Regulus Black like this. He’d see past the cold, sharp edges that Regulus wore like armor, straight into the boy who carried galaxies in his eyes and shadows in his soul. James wouldn’t just love Regulus, he’d sanctify him. He’d build this invisible, sacred place within himself, where every whispered laugh, every fleeting touch, every stolen moment between them would be enshrined.

Because that’s who James is. He’s the type to turn love into something eternal, something holy. Regulus would never say it aloud, but he’d feel it every time James looked at him, like he was something worth worshiping—despite all the darkness he carried, despite the impossible weight of the family name that was both a crown and a curse.

And James would tell him, in that soft, breathless way of his, “You don’t see it, do you? You think you’re just another shadow in the dark. But to me, you’re the sun, the stars, the entire damn sky.”

Proust’s words fit them so perfectly because James would build a chapel for Regulus in his heart, a place untouched by war, by expectations, by tragedy—a place where they could just exist. Together. Always.

[notenoughdramaaa]

Happy Holidays 🎄❄️🎉

[notenoughdramaaa]

"No doubt it is because memories are not always true that love is not eternal."

- Proust, Marcel

Been in my Proust era lately, and this one passage grabbed me by the throat. Like, it’s practically screaming Jegulus. So, guess what? New Jegulus fic dropping Jan 1st. AND it’s got some Wolfstar, because obviously Wolfstar makes everything better. The whole thing is Proust-inspired, because honestly, who understands yearning and loving a man better than Marcel Proust?