#from harry's pov

[ultravioletbrit]

“absent” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 268 words

Sirius loves Hogsmeade weekends when the whole group gets together for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. He’s looking around the table at the smiling faces of all his friends when he realizes two faces are notably absent.

“Hey Marls. James walked down with you guys, right?” Sirius asks.

“He said he needed to stay back and work on new strategies for us to practice this week to use in the match next weekend.” Marlene explains.

Sirius furrows his eyebrows, but it does make sense. James is obsessive about Quidditch, and next weekend’s match is a big one.

“Oi! Crouch!” Sirius calls to the other end of the table. “Where’s Reggie?”

“Revising. He says he likes the library on Hogsmeade weekends because there’s nobody else there. Swot.” Barty says with an eye roll which Sirius returns.

Regulus hates noise and crowds when he studies so it makes sense that he would want to go to the library today.

Sirius shrugs it off and goes back to his lunch.

———

Sirius is sitting across from James at dinner when he notices a trail of love bites running down his neck.

“Prongs, are those hickeys?” Sirius gasps but before James can answer–

“Oi Reg!! Are those hickeys?!” They hear Barty yelling from across the hall.

James’ eyes go wide with fear and Sirius’ eyes narrow to a murderous glare.

“I err… I have to…” James stutters as he slowly stands up.

Once he’s on his feet, James sprints from the Great Hall with Sirius close behind him.

Just before the doors close, Sirius thinks he hears Regulus yell, “Please don’t kill him.” Which only makes Sirius run faster.

[mangomonk]

i thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me

↳ summary: read this drabble first! goodie two shoes!remus, afraid of being perceived as other, stumbles into a relationship at the expense of y/n. ↳ content: angst, one-sided fake dating ↳ a/n: a little nervous because this is my first time writing for remus pls be gentle w me! for full enjoyment, listen to ivy by frank ocean (i looped it the entire time i wrote this). the more i wrote this, the more i realized i could turn this into a full blown million word fic, but i tried to keep it as condensed as possible, hence some time skips/summarization. pt. 2 here!

When Remus Lupin confesses — no, announces — that he likes her in the middle of the Great Hall, she thinks she's dreaming. Surely, she didn't hear that correctly. Only hours earlier, she had witnessed the doe-eyed boy unleash a slew of curses beneath his breath. I guess everyone has bad days, she had thought. Even Remus, who she had always pegged as straight-laced and well-mannered.

So when a half a dozen heads turn to stare at her directly, Y/N turns to see if there's anyone behind her. When she sees no one, she turns back forward. It's when Remus Lupin's soft, brown gaze meets hers that her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She can't help it despite the bewilderment she feels — everyone in the castle has to have some sort of crush on the fluffy-haired boy. He's all soft, disarming smiles and beautiful, brown eyes and knitted jumpers and gentle laughter and—

��and Y/N goes red in the face right away. It doesn't help when Remus tilts his head to the side slightly and offers a small, uncertain smile. Merlin, help me, Y/N thinks as she stares back, wide-eyed, her confusion and any thoughts briefly neutralized at the way his eyes crinkle into little half-moons.

— — — — —

Y/N has always prided herself on being a sharp judge of character. It soon became clear to her, however, that Remus Lupin was a strange, but intriguing case of contradicting character.

Following his confession — rather, announcement — in the Great Hall, she becomes overly conscious of the tall boy. It feels as though she's suddenly very aware that they have most of their classes together, that he sits only a seat away from her in Charms, that he has chicken scratch for handwriting when she passes him in the library. The latter comes as a surprise — perhaps unfairly, she would have pegged him as a swooping cursive type of boy. In any case, it soon becomes the case that Y/N realizes that she can find Remus easily in a room of crowded students, and the more she does, the more she begins to realize that Remus is a boy full of surprises.

This doesn't seem to matter though, because strangely, after his confession in the Great Hall, Remus does not once approach her. Occasionally, she catches him glancing at her with an odd expression, but outside of an increase in being stared at by the other students, little changes in her life.

It isn't until a week later when her seat partner in Charms is out that their paths cross again. When she trudges to her seat in class, she becomes very quickly aware that they're separated only by an empty chair. She doesn't look away fast enough because Remus looks up as she pulls her chair out, his gaze snagging on to hers with an intensity that she doesn't expect from the softness of his eyes.

"Good morning," he says slowly, almost uncertainly. Up close, Y/N can see a splay of pale freckles across his cheekbones. His lashes are unfairly, distractingly long as he gazes up at her.

"Hi," Y/N says, equally uncertain, though she tries to keep her voice light and casual. No one's ever really had a crush on her before, and she finds herself floundering on how to act. Shouldn't he be the nervous one, and not her? Somehow though, she can feel her palms begin to sweat, though Remus doesn't look nervous at all. Just sharp and assessing. Fortunately though, before the air between them can turn any awkwarder, a mussed-haired head pops up from around Remus.

"Y/N, right?" James Potter asks with a wide grin. His glasses are skewed and crooked on his face as he peers around Remus at her rather owlishly.

Next to him, Remus blinks a few times as she nods, opening her mouth to speak when Professor Flitwick clears his throat to begin class.

She tries to focus on taking notes, but it's difficult when she can see Remus casting her sidelong glances from her peripheral view. She gives up on trying to focus on class entirely when a folded piece of parchment flits over the gap between them with a familiar chicken scratch.

Can we talk after class?

After class, Y/N has a ridiculous, irrational flash of self-consciousness that the humidity has made her hair begin to frizz. Remus doesn't seem to notice as she rakes a hand quickly through her hair because a nervous, almost agitated, energy is rolling off of him as he paces in the courtyard.

When he catches sight of her, he stops, a warm smile breaking across his face, though Y/N feels that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. But the new knowledge that Remus has a dimple on his left cheek and his smile is just slightly crooked is enough to disarm any wariness. Unexpectedly his nervous energy seems to dissipate immediately. "Hi," he says, "You came."

"I got your note," Y/N says, inwardly grimacing — of course he knew that already, he had been sitting next to her.

"Right, well, I, er—" Remus begins choppily, his hand rising to rub at the nape of his neck. "I was wondering about... Earlier, last week, when you saw me... Did you say anything to anyone?"

Y/N blinks at him once, then twice, blankly. "Earlier?" She questions, before the heat begins to rise to her face. He must have been referring to his confession. "I haven't said anything to anyone."

Remus's brows furrow for a moment before his face relaxes. He's surprisingly difficult to read — it feels as though any trickle of emotion is covered with a disarming soft smile. "I see," he says after a moment, his shoulders relaxing. "Right, well, Y/N," he begins, looking around them distractedly. "—shall we date?" Y/N straightens with a jolt as he continues. "I won't be offended if you say no. In fact, I'd understand if you said no, we've barely—"

She doesn't know what it is exactly. Maybe it was the curious thought that Remus might not be the charming prince he seemed to be. Maybe it was the dimple in his left cheek. Maybe it was the way he said her name. But something in Y/N slipped through her confusion and the unceremonious nature of the whole thing, because she finds herself speaking before she can stop herself. "Yeah. Let's date."

Remus's face goes slack. He looks a little startled, Y/N thinks, like she's clubbed him over the head. "Are you sure?" He blurts, eyes widening a fraction. It's perhaps the most emotion she's seen him show so far. Y/N writes it off as nerves and incredulity.

She nods once, firmly.

"I guess that's settled," he says weakly with furrowed brows, though he looked neither pleased nor displeased.

— — — — —

Initially, Y/N and Remus are as awkward as can be. She's not sure if it's because neither of them have really ever been in a relationship before, but it feels clumsy in the beginning.

Their dates start off mostly as study dates in the library, but Y/N doesn't mind — to her pleasure, she finds that they eerily work well together and she likes the calm peace of Remus's presence while she's studying. She likes to think that he also finds comfort in her presence because it's become ritual for him to ask her about the book she's reading, and vice versa. In a few weeks, they start reading the same books. Maybe it's because they spend so much time together studying that it becomes gradually more comfortable.

When they go to Hogsmeade for the first time together, Y/N finds that they end up walking around the village and chatting nearly until curfew. She tells him about what it's like growing up with three brothers — "It doesn't seem very different from the Marauders," Remus observes with a wry laugh — and he tells her stories of how despite moving around periodically during his child, his mother always found a little corner in the yard to start an herb garden.

He does all the things she'd imagine a boyfriend might — Remus is a gentleman, expectedly. He holds the door open for her, gives her his jumper when there was a draft in the library, walks her back to the Common Room at night.

But, unexpectedly, it isn't Remus's soft smiles or considerate aura that Y/N finds herself straining to see. But it was when he threw his head back and laughed himself breathless at James holding his wand on the wrong end that Y/N found it impossible to tear her eyes away from him. Or when he shot her a dour look the first time she teased him on his illegible chicken scratch. Or when Remus cursed like a sailor when he knocked his ink pot over onto his parchment because he was always so uncoordinated and graceless.

It was perhaps impossible not to fall in love with Remus Lupin. Though maybe she already knew this from the start when he first looked at her, and even more so the first time he said her name.

She liked the way he would groan and complain and grumble as he stretched out his lithe limbs in preparation of helping Peter with his essay that he had procrastinated on, even after she could see the exhaustion begin to pool under his pretty eyes. She liked that he could silence the boys with just one baleful look. She liked the way he fell asleep on his books when he thought no one was looking. She liked his dry remarks and his wolfish grin and his grumpy mood. She liked all the rough edges that Remus showed her when he would forget to put up a soft smile.

It was too easy to love Remus Lupin, though it seemed like he didn't know that himself.

It only takes four full moons for Y/N to understand what the Marauders meant whenever they quietly referred to Remus's furry little problem. In the first place, they weren't always discreet — it was easy for them to forget she was there when she was studying in the background. In the second place, Remus would apologetically cancel their studying plans around the same time each month, and he would disappear for a few days and come back exhausted with fresh scars. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together, really.

But while she understood why he didn't tell her, she couldn't help but give him a tighter hug when she realized.

"Something wrong, love?" He had asked, reaching up to caress the back of her hair as she squeezed his abdomen.

"No," she had mumbled into his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent. She could feel affection swell inside her so violently she felt a little dizzy as she gave him another squeeze. "Just wish I could always be hugging you."

"No one's stopping you," Remus had responded dryly. She smiled into his chest as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. "Certainly not me."

— — — — —

When Y/N tries to discreetly deliver a small care package of chocolate and books a few nights before the next full moon, she accidentally overhears Peter ask James when Remus was ending his fake relationship.

"I doubt it'll raise any suspicions now that no one's pestering him about not having a girlfriend," she hears Peter say.

James makes a noncommittal sort of noise. "You know how Remus is about these things. He's always on edge that someone will think he's the odd one out—"

She feels like the ground beneath her has stuttered and shifted into an open chasm as her mind whirls to make sense of their conversation. For a moment, she thinks she's wrong, but like it was with Remus's furry little problem, if she thinks back on the stranger moments of the past four months, it's not difficult to piece it together. She begins to feel a little ill.

How many times did he force himself to smile at her stories? How many times after walking her back to the Common Room at night did he sigh with relief when she left? How many times did he wait for other students to be around to hold her hand? All the heart-fluttering moments she had thought had been magical and wonderful and incredible with Remus had been entirely one-sided. How humiliating. She feels used and dirty and pathetic, but the worse thing is that she can't feel angry.

She doesn't know how long she stands paralyzed outside, just that it's difficult to breathe or think properly. All she can feel is a numbing ache in her chest, and the feeling tightens when she hears a familiar voice behind her.

"Hmm?" Remus hums, a smile breaking across his face. The dimple in his left cheek appears briefly. "What are you doing here, love?" When she doesn't respond, he steps closer to her and peers at her face carefully, his big, brown eyes soft. "What's wrong?" He asks, gently looping his arms around her waist. Y/N goes perfectly still under his touch. "I knew you'd be studying for the Ancient Runes exam all day, so got some cakes from the kitchen for—"

"Remus," she interrupts suddenly, her throat gone cottony and dry as she raises her gaze to finally look at him. It sends a sharp pang through her chest again. "Are we ever going to kiss?"

Bizarrely, scarlet splotches appear swiftly on the high points of Remus's cheek as his eyes widen a fraction. "Kiss," he repeats, sounding strangled as he stares at her wide-eyed, looking as though she had clubbed him over the head. "You want to kiss?" He asks after a moment, his voice hoarse as his eyes flicker down to her lips.

"Do you want to kiss me?" She asks quietly, watching his throat bob as he swallows thickly.

"I've wanted to since—" Remus says softly, a little nonsensically, his eyes darting back down to her lips. His pupils are blown wide and dark as he swallows, his throat bobbing. “Y/N,” he murmurs, and she can feel his breath brush against her nose. She tries to control the thumping in her chest as he slowly leans in and raises his hand to cup her face. Remus looks down at her with a sweet adoration she knows cannot be real. She's seen this sort of soft look from him countless times before and now she knows better than anyone that it's just another cover. Perhaps it was perfectly clear since the start, but she had let herself get swept away with naive hope. The start of nothing. She feels like a fool.

Remus's head ducks slightly as the space between them closes. Y/N goes perfectly still as she watches his other hand rise, his fingers trembling a little as they reach to curve around her jaw.

For a moment, she entertains the thought and wonders what would happen if she just closes her eyes. She could close her eyes, could lean in and feel his eyelashes brush her cheek, could let him kiss her senseless. It would be so easy. It scares her a little how much she wants that.

Before she can betray herself, Y/N closes her hand around his wrist. “You can stop now,” she says, her voice low and steadier than she felt.

Remus freezes, his dazed expression crumpling in confusion. She takes a steadying breath, swallowing back the bile in her throat as she schools her expression with difficulty. Y/N places his wrist back down away from her face and lets go as she continues, despite the dull ache in her chest. “I wanted to know how far you would go,” she continues quietly. “How far you thought I would be willing to go.”

“I don’t understand—” Remus begins, a myriad of stricken dismay, alarm, and something else flickering across his face. For a moment, she thinks it’s the residue of desire, but she quickly remembers how good of an actor Remus is, and doesn’t let herself entertain that thought that it’s anything else besides panic for being caught.

"I know you're just using me," Y/N says, her throat dry. Her voice, to her mortification, cracks and comes out as a croak. Any sense of anger deflates immediately and all she can feel is this crumbling sense of defeat. “I should have known that something was strange when you suddenly confessed. We had never even really talked before that. I mean, I thought that I was dreaming when you said you liked me—"

“No, it's because—”

"I know why you did it," she whispers. Remus freezes, the color draining from his face. "The worse part of all this is that I can't find it in myself to hate you for using me. But I had just thought that you didn’t think so little of me as to…” She doesn’t finish as she stares down at the space between them, swallowing thickly. She feels ill. The last sentence had come out before she realized it. So that was what it was — disappointment.

"Did you even know my name before James said it?" She asks with a bark of a forced laugh as she straightens, setting her shoulders now though she still has a difficult time looking directly at him.

Remus swallows thickly as he steps forward. His pause is enough of an answer. "Let me explain,” he begins quickly, his words tumbling out in a frantic mess. “Y/N, wait,” he starts, reaching out.

“Don’t touch me, Lupin,” she says dejectedly, stepping away from him. Remus flinches and freezes, his expression falling, but she can't bring herself to look at him in the eye anymore. Y/N stares at the worn patch of carpet by her shoe as she swallows thickly before turning to leave. "You can tell everyone that you broke up with me if it helps you."

— — — — —

a/n: thx for reading! pt. 2 here my masterlist here

[spindlewoed]

You have to understand. I don't "ship" Harry with the smoker on the balcony, I think whatever they have going on canonically is way funnier and touching than anything anyone could come up with.

There is so much within the dynamic itself. It’s a middle aged man and a younger man who are nothing alike and everything like each other. It’s the smoker being the person that kickstarts Harry’s sexuality journey anew, seeing Harry’s fascination with him and being amused by it because (aside from Harry being probably the first man in a while who’s managed to leave him dumbfounded in a positive way) the smoker *knows* what’s happening in Harry’s mind and as he puts it, it’s beautiful.

Don't get me wrong, the mutual attraction is there. The smoker flirts with Harry every other two lines (girl why the fuck are you flirting with a cop you're insane. I'm obsessed with you) yet makes fun of him in the same breath while Harry is absolutely clueless the whole time because he's too busy staring at his abs. Couldn't come up with anything funnier if I tried.

I love this high drama check, this is exaclty what it feels like to speak to clueless boomers who have no idea what they're talking about. Still, once Harry admits that he might be part of the "underground" as he puts it, the smoker is immediately excited and encourages him to think about it. It's very sweet.

(I know everyone has probably seen this dialogue 100 times by now but I love the phrasing here. literally twink_boutta_pounce.jpeg)

And as a side note I really like this emphaty check in response to Harry's little breakdown after the failed suggestion check the first time you meet him. The smoker like damn he just like me fr.

I don't think more smoker interactions were needed at all or that they would ever talk again post-game but it's interesting to think about what other converations they could have, even just so we could learn a bit more about him. They both have an interest in art. They're both stuck in a place they can't leave if they wanted to and yet find beauty in it, they both have regrets about past relationships. They both find talking with the other a charming experience in a way or another. If I want to be indulgent, they both could benefit from learning about what being gay means for a younger/older generation, especially since they both have such different life experiences with their identities.

It's all fanfic talk, and obviously no cops at pride and so on but their interactions did make me think about community and recognition through the other. A flirt for the sake of a flirt, a “maybe in another lifetime” but this lifetime is good too because they did meet and leave an impression on each other before parting ways. That's *beautiful* too.

[secret-writer-boy]

jegulus bad idea right au

exactly what it seems.

“Bloody hell,” says Barty, incredulous. “Did he really?” 

“Three hundred and sixty-five roses!” Regulus shouts. “For every day we’d been together! And they were all different colors!” he rubs his eyes and leans across the table to reach his cup of vodka. “Stupid arsehole-”

“Alright, Regulus, let’s not,” Dorcas moves the cup out of his range. “Don’t overdo it.”

Watching the cup, Regulus suddenly feels a stirring of irritation under his skin. “You’re not my keeper,” he says, rolling his eyes, a buzz of satisfaction suffusing him. He itches for a fight. “I can bloody moderate on my own without your mothering, Dorcas.”

“Well!” Dorcas rears back, clearly offended. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

“And that’s you, is it?” Regulus glares at her. “You aren’t good for much of anything, then,” he barbs.

“Alright, Regulus,” Dorcas snorts, mocking for a moment before her features shift back to rage.

“Dorcas,” Evan sighs.

“No!” Dorcas cuts him off. “Reg always gets like this, and it’s always the same. We go out, he gets too drunk because he doesn’t know when to stop, someone has to interfere, and he’s awful about it!”

“Fuck you, Dorcas,” Regulus hisses. His chair gives a metallic scrrrrreech! as he shoves it back and gets to his feet. “I’ve got to use the loo.” Stalking away, Regulus tries to ignore his friends’ murmuring behind him. 

He knows it’s not healthy to still obsess over a relationship that ended months ago, and meant nothing anyways, nothing at all—”Oh, yes, tell Sirius all about this! Tell him everything, anything you haven’t already, you fucking liar”—he should have seen the breakup coming, really. Nothing good could have come of—

Regulus pauses. His phone is buzzing. Unknown Number, it says. 

Cautiously, he picks up. “Hello?”

“Regulus,” a voice replies. 

Regulus freezes. Even distorted by static, there’s no mistaking that voice. His voice. Oh, Regulus knows this voice. He’s heard it delighted; he’s heard it overjoyed; he’s heard it screaming; he’s heard it in ecstasy; he’s heard it in rage. Oh yes, oh yes, he knows this voice.

“James?” Regulus can hardly believe it—no, he can’t believe it. “James?” his breathing becomes slow and shuddering. 

“Hi,” James says, voice low and husky, and Regulus just wants to savor it forever, and maybe rip out James’ throat while he’s at it. Pent-up rage from their break up comes back to him in waves, and he wants to throttle James, really. But he won’t; Regulus is going to hang up right now and block James’ number and tell him to shove whatever he has to say up his arseh—

“Check your texts,” James tells him. 

Between one heartbeat and the next, Regulus thumbs to his texts. It’s James. How can he not?

Unknown Number: [Image Attached]

He opens the image and forgets how to breathe.

It’s him. It looks like he’s in bed—his eyes, his eyes are soft and light and oh so pretty and they’re difficult to see behind his glasses but Regulus manages (he always has) and his face is perfectly sculpted and his hair is so dark and silky and it’s short now, shorter, and still fucking messy and oh Regulus just wants to run his hands through—

“You got a haircut,” he says numbly.

“I miss you, Regulus,” and Regulus remembers the way James used to say his name like a prayer. Regulus remembers how deep and smooth his voice is—why oh why does he still have to want him so desperately?

“I—you do?” he hates how desperate he sounds.

“With everything in me,” James promises. Regulus knows it meant nothing. It meant nothing to either of them. None of it. He recalls the fights, and the rage, and the anger, and what came after—James against the wall; his hands on Regulus’ waist—it all meant nothing. Except…James doesn’t sound like it meant nothing.

“I miss you too,” his voice is hoarse, words slurring, and all he can think about is how warm James’ skin used to feel against his, and how his gorgeous hazel eyes would darken at night, and how he thinks he might die to see them do that again.

Ping!

There’s another message.

“James,” he whispers, horrified, maybe awed. “Is this your address?”

“Maybe,” and there’s no mistaking his tone; that’s his—that’s his flirty tone, is he really— “Want to find out?”

And later, Regulus will swear up and down that he thought it through, really he did, and decided it was the best decision—

I should probably, probably not. I should probably, probably not. I should probably—

“I’ll be there in ten,” Regulus says, and hangs up the phone.

What the fuck did I just do?

He’s almost numb as he texts his friends. Leaving now. I need to get some sleep. He ignores the texts, the questions that follow. All he can think of is James. James, James, James, who makes him want to die and scream and also explode from sheer frustration. Oh, he hates James. Oh, he wants James so desperately he thinks he might die if he doesn’t have him immediately.

(Nothing good could have come from fucking his brother’s best friend behind his back. Especially when said best friend was everything to him. Especially when—)

Now he’s getting in the car, wrecking all his plans, and he knows he should stop (but he can’t). He’s speeding a bit, and it doesn’t take long before Regulus is there at James’ fancy apartment (just like his old one), taking the elevator to the second floor, and standing by—

It’s him. 

James is smiling his gorgeous smile, his blinding smile that stretches from one corner of his face to another. 

“Reg,” and Regulus is on him, pushing him through the doorway and attacking his lips with a fervency. James opens his mouth between kisses, seeming to want to say something, but Regulus stops him.

“No talk, Potter,” he whispers, something in him burning with an intensity. “Show me how good you are.” 

And James, falling apart, does just that.

---

part 2?

[izharmilgram]

draw me after you by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, chapter 16.

"He's sipping at his tea, hair mussed, eyes tired. Perched on the back of his chair, a snowy owl sits, nipping at the messy strands curling around Harry's ear."

[iamnmbr3]

now i want to read a fanfic where Harry thinks it’s weird when he hears Dumbledore talking about Tom, and when other two also hear it from Harry, they also think it’s weird. And it leads them to be cautious of Dumbledore when he interacts with them.

Be the change you want to see!

Interestingly Harry might have thought this had it not been for the fact that by that point in the story he has very legitimate reasons to be biased against Tom. Voldemort murdered his parents and tried to kill him during his first year. And then he met diary!Tom...who also tried to kill him. Not to mention everything that went down in the graveyard in 4th year and Sirius's death at the Department of Mysteries. So Harry (and the readers) are primed to view the memories in a certain light and it's easy to ignore a lot of the larger context.

What might be really cool is if Harry had kept the diary longer and saw some of these memories from Tom's POV in the diary (and without the knowledge of who Tom actually was). Harry liked diary!Tom a lot - to the point that hilariously in the end of book 2 Tom keeps having to resort to increasingly pointed "ha ha I'm evil actually!" reveals until he finally gives up and just spells it out because Harry is so invested in the 'Tom and I are going to be best friends and save the day together' narrative that he refuses to notice any of Tom's subtler attempts at doing a dramatic reveal. Given that, if Harry had seen memories like Tom's first meeting with Dumbledore from Tom's POV he probably would've been pretty receptive to narratives suggesting that Dumbledore is not as trustworthy as he seems etc. That leads to an interesting question about how Harry would then react to discovering the truth (assuming he did and that the diary didn't possess him etc).

[artsyhamster]

Just two guys, sharing bathwater

[thief-of-eggs]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you are allowed to have a favorite character out of a particular ship. You’re allowed to mostly focus on that character in any fics or art you create. You’re allowed to have a lesser understanding of their counterpart. You do not need to have every ounce of lore in order to ship them. Heck- you can even just like a ship for vibes.

Just because you love a ship doesn’t mean both characters are your absolute favorites. You’re allowed to relate more to one over the other. You’re allowed to make that other character your focus.

[girllblogging777]

[remusawoooo]

one look under ronarry tag in tiktok and most comments are

"YES BEST FRIENDS"

"BROTHERS FOREVER"

"PLATONIC SOULMATES"

when the edit is clearly shipping them romantically

[jaylienpotter]

Conceited

Jegulus one-shot

Warning: Lily Evans bashing (kinda)

"Why don't you give me a chance? Even to be friends?!"

Regulus turned around and walked towards the source of the noise. He knew that voice very well.

"I hate you, Potter!"

Seemed like Black's crush was getting rejected again. Part of him was sad for his brother's best friend, another, more selfish side of him, was relieved.

"Why?! What did I ever do to you? I know I was a prick to Snape sometimes-"

"You're a bully!"

"I'm not a bully! Snape isn't stupid, nor weak, nor innocent. He does the exact same thing we did to him! He's not a victim." He wasn't wrong, to be a bully meant it was one-sided. Snape and Potter were more like mortal enemies.

"Even then, you're still a rich, obnoxious, arrogant, selfish prat who doesn't shut up about himself! You're so bloody conceited!"

That hit. He could see the hurt in those dark brown eyes. People didn't know the effort the tanned skinned boy put into helping others, making sure everyone is happy, included, safe. He could have all eyes on him yet no one noticed. Except Reg. He noticed James.

"That's not true." The pair turned to him in surprise, pale hands becoming fidgety with the sudden notion of being watched. He kind of regretted speaking up.

"James doesn't talk about himself. Yes, he's sometimes a bit obnoxious and loud, and he does talk a lot but it's never centered around himself. You're getting confused with my brother, Evans."

"Oh, please. Those two are the same. You're not in Gryffindor, you don't hear them all the time." Right, but he did hear from the boy in private. In their late night talks that started after Sirius ran away. Because James didn't want Reg to feel alone. He noticed. He cared. He helped.

"What does he say then? About himself. Not about his friends. Or the stupid pranks they all pull." He dragged the word 'all', making it a point that it didn't count.

"Do you know his favourite colour? Favourite animal? Favourite classes and professors? His grades? How many people he's dated? Anything about his home life? His life goals and dreams?" It was too late to back out, the rant had begun, and you bet Blacks finish what they start.

"Because I don't think so. He might talk a shit lot, but it's about his group plans, his friends, making jokes, making others laugh when feeling like shit as so many do nowadays," himself included. "It takes a lot to get him to talk about himself as an individual, actually. You would know if you gave him a chance. But for someone so against judgemental people, you really do focus on his appearance." Green eyes wide, pink lips shut tight. Regulus contained his smirk.

"He's a good person. A great friend. Selfless and caring despite being from an old pureblood family. And he fights for what he thinks is right. He fights for others. With his big personality comes a big heart. So if you don't make space for the love he has to offer just because you think you don't believe he has it in him, he's not the conceited one." Red hair nearly flew with Lily's stormed exit. She hadn't liked their interaction in the slightest. It was better that way. She wasn't deserving.

Piercing dark eyes were burning a whole through black curls. Reg avoided James's gaze, afraid of what he'd say. He only faced him when he felt the boy closer, and he could swear Potter's eyes were sparkling.

"You meant that...?"

"Of course. You care so much about everyone else that you forget yourself. You couldn't tell me what you wanted to do in the future because it would depend on what your friends decided to do with their lives. You're the most selfless person I know, and if she thinks otherwise, she doesn't deserve your love or friendship."

Silence. He really wanted the older boy to say something, but he just stared, lips slightly parted. Icy blue eyes looked away, shoulders tensing from the attention.

Warm strong arms surrounded his small figure, nearly making him halt. But Potter's sweet, intoxicating smell had him relax and melt in his arms, wrapping his much slimmer ones around his tanned waist.

"Thanks, Reggie." His heart skipped a beat at the nickname and he hoped James didn't feel it against his own chest. He was also thankful to have his face covered, absolutely certain that his white cheeks had turned fully pink.

[atlasdoe]

waiting for the marauders fandom to realise that Remus isn't the main character in the prank story, Severus is.

[wolvesandshine]

They had a plan. A bloody good one too.

Maybe it was presumptuous of Regulus to assume they were sticking it, some people might even say he was being naive, but it was the only thing that kept him carrying on despite the state of current affairs.

Until Sirius shattered all hopes of that coming to fruition and ran away in the middle of the night.

There was no note. No warning. Sirius hadn’t even had the decency to ask him. Sirius knew - of course he knew - he had to have known what would happen to Regulus if he left but he hadn’t cared.

The plan, the one made under the dark by two boys so so long ago - all up in smoke.

Because of fucking James Potter.

Regulus knows it’s irrational to hate Potter. Logically, he knows. But if he couldn’t hold onto the rage all he would have left is sadness -

That his brother and him became so estranged that Sirius couldn’t look beyond the mask he helped him create for survival. That his brother thought he was like them. That his brother thought he didn’t want to leave - or maybe he just didn’t care enough.

And that - that would break Regulus. It wasn’t as thought he was the epitome of stability but that would definitely be the tipping point into the well known Black madness.

So Regulus held onto the rage. Anger at his brother for leaving.Anger at Potter for taking him away. Anger at his parents for putting him in this situation. And most importantly - he was angry with himself for being a fucking coward.

They were supposed to leave together when Regulus turned of age - instead all Regulus got when he was 17 was a dark mark he never wanted and no one to share his thoughts with.

[lieutenantism]

i'm currently thinking about how jean loses himself completely to harry. just dissolves entirely. very little sense of identity left outside his partnership with him, which i find so intriguing. i mean, it's the definition of codependency, but that doesn't make it any less interesting (long post, again).

"i won't let my life unravel because of this." is just so insane and melodramatic to me because WHO is that man to you, jean? and why is his alcoholism the reason for your life unraveling? jean takes on harry's drinking problem as a problem of his own, a threat to his life before harry's, even though the drinking doesn't affect harry's ability to do his job, and jean acknowledges that as well as everyone else in the major crimes unit.

but why does he have such a big problem with harry's alcoholism? why's he the only one out of the task force who seems to care obsessively? because the one before him failed to save him, and he feels as though it's his responsibility now. to jean, harry's life is divided to three parts; before him, during him, and tragically, after him.

the fact jean puts himself in the same position as dora, harry's ex, tells you enough. almost as if he considers them to be the same, in terms of responsibility for harry's wellbeing. he's cleaning up her mess, he seems to think. she was way before my time, as though they hold the same significance to harry. of course, this isn't entirely jean's fault. both him and harry share the guilt of their twisted relationship; harry's guilty of getting too personal with anybody within arm's reach.

and jean's guilty for wanting to clean up a mess that he didn't make, and losing sight of himself and his true professional duties in the process. so it goes like this; they partner up, harry's bad at drawing the line between personal and professional relationships and jean's even worse, harry goes on benders every week and jean witnesses them and tries to pull him out of them relentlessly, which then leads to whatever fucked up partnership they had, right before martinaise. the question is why did jean feel the need to save him? because he projected onto him severely.

they're both broken men; mirrors of each other, though jean will never say it out loud. he sees himself in harry, and since he can't save himself and everyone's given up on him, even the professionals, he decides not to give up on harry. in a way, jean's trying to prove to himself that he's not a lost cause through sticking by harry's side through it all, because if even the most lost of causes manages to have at least one person who's there for them at all times, who says he can't have one too? why must he be labelled as the anomaly? if harry du bois could be saved, so can he. he maintains this "i have my shit together, i'm better than you." persona during the entire confrontation, when he isn't. like i said, harry is everything jean works hard in order not to become, yet he still manages to lose his sense of identity while "saving" him and only becomes "harry's partner". that's all he is. nothing but a safety net, there to catch him at all times.

that's why he becomes extremely defensive when you choose the "kim's cooler than you." option, because you're practically robbing him of his identity. throughout the entirety of the game, he keeps repeating: "i'm your partner", to reassure himself more so than anything else, and what the game does here is very clever. you first hear him say that on a call, so distant and away from you; he cannot convince you that he's your partner even if he tried. then, he says it when he's in an idiotic disguise that you didn't recognize, and quite frankly it's making you uncomfortable, it's hard to take him seriously when he looks so stupid so you don't believe him, again. then at last, when he confronts you, and he's himself. then you think it sticks.

but it doesn't, and you dismiss him again to ask about the others. i've always found it perplexing how there's no "how can you be my partner?" option during the confrontation. you can ask about mikael heidelstam for fuck's sake, but not your partner. simply because you don't believe he is, at least not anymore. he's just a very angry man who was in a stupid disguise, and that's all you can ask him about. isn't that so insanely tragic? when you think about how dismissive the "confrontation" is? and jean's lashing out that way because his whole identity is hanging in the balance? no matter what jean tells harry, there's no click, no lightbulb flickering moment, nothing. jean tries everything, it's painful to see, really. the "i didn't lie to you. no one lies to you." and his lines to judit and trant where he's like "i told you, it's typical harry behavior. it's our shitkid." and so on are all attempts to prove that he, jean, knows him, harry, better than anyone else, even himself. he KNOWS him, which is why harry has to need him. he has to keep him. as his partner or whatever the hell it was, because nobody else knows him or will ever get to know him that way.

jean's response to harry telling them "i don't wanna be in your unit." only further proves it. "i'm your partner, i answer for you when you're not there." considering the fact harry and jean had begun to blur ever since their partnership came into being makes the line funnier lol. jean had locked himself up in a prison of his own making, of course with harry giving him all the means necessary to build his own cage beforehand. it was a matter of time and conditioning, and severe loneliness. every crime of harry's feels like one jean is guilty of.

[cactihut]

au where asta never treats harry like a kid & instead recognizes that he’s a whole adult alien trying to live as a human with a mate from his home planet that he’s realized he’s grieving & hundreds of kids that he’s learning he misses

AND harry never becomes a man-baby who only becomes capable when it’s useful to the plot & instead continues to honor his love for asta & her history by being kind to her

also they solve crimes

[sn4pe]

will never forget how cunty teen snape’s walk was described in the books

“twitchy and spidery” every time I try to walk like that it just comes out cunty af

like alright so ur saying little sev was serving weird boy cunt up and down the hogwarts corridors??? ok as he should