Happy New Year To Everyone!

I feel like Remus would either love fairy lights or absolutely hate them

Platonic moonwater

That's it. that's the post.

How do i figure out what i am?

I need friends who are aromantic or asexual, cause i have a shitton of questions

This is so sweet!

@jegulus-microfic | June 12: challenge | 1.8k

Regulus gets a date.

Regulus Black doesn’t date.

He’s notorious on campus for not taking anyone up on offers of dates, dismissing them without even really considering them. And it’s not like he doesn’t get offers; with his raven curls and storm-tinted eyes, he’s a certifiable catch.

There are rumours about it, as there always will be; that he’s secretly engaged, or that he’s sworn off dating, but no one can figure out exactly why it is that Regulus Black doesn’t date.

He’s been here three years and still hasn’t gone on a single date, to the point where it’s become a challenge for final years; the first person to take Regulus on a date wins.

It started with Barty Crouch in first year; they were sat next to each other in their Approaches to History course, mindlessly working their way through a ‘get to know your partner’ exercise when Barty blurted out the question that would come to define Regulus Black for the first time.

‘Do you want to go out sometime?’

Regulus let out a bark of laughter, only shaking his head before turning back to the sheet of paper and asking Barty for a fun fact about himself.

The two ended up attached at the hip, but they’ve both clarified that there’s nothing romantic between them; solidified when Barty started dating Evan Rosier at the start of their second year.

There were rumours about why Regulus rejected Barty; of course there were, but then it happened to Emmeline Vance, and again to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern and people started to catch onto the fact that Regulus Black didn’t date.

Once a pattern was established, people got more persistent – who would be the person to take Regulus on a date? – but the rejections persisted, all through second and third year.

There are only a handful of people left on campus who haven’t asked Regulus out, but chief among them is James Potter.

And look, it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He’s spent the past three years watching Regulus get prettier and smarter and more aloof and he wants, but there’s the small matter of Sirius Black, Regulus’ older brother and James’ best friend.

So he watches from afar as Regulus sits on the green with Evan and Dorcas, laughing at something Evan’s said, head thrown back and long line of his neck exposed. A second-year approaches the trio, twisting his hands nervously, and James knows what’s about to happen, but he watches anyway.

The second-year shuffles on his feet a bit, head down as he mumbles out what can only be a request for a date. Regulus only shakes his head, muttering yet another rejection and turning back to Dorcas, not even bothering to watch the second-year walk away.

James bites back a smile, the same way he always does when Regulus rejects someone. And it’s not like he has a chance, but it’s nice to be able to delude himself into thinking he does.

He’s drawn out of his daydreaming by a slap to the back of his head.

‘Ow, Pads, what the fuck was that for?!’ James exclaims, rubbing his head where Sirius struck.

‘You were stuck in your own world somewhere and I’m bored,’ he gripes, and James can only roll his eyes affectionately.

‘Fine, what do you want from me today?’ James asks, turning away from the younger Black to focus on his older brother instead.

‘You saw Regulus rejecting that second-year right?’ Sirius asks, shifting to sit cross-legged across from James.

‘I think we all saw that – what’s your point?’

‘Reggie still won’t tell me why he doesn’t date, so I want you to ask him out to figure out why it is that he rejects everyone,’ Sirius states, like it’s obvious, like it’s no big deal.

James freezes for a moment, trying to process the fact that Sirius has just asked James to ask Regulus out.

He’s wanted this for far too long and Sirius is just going to hand it to him, like it means nothing.

‘Shit, Pads, are you sure you don’t just want to watch me get rejected?’ James cocks an eyebrow, trying to bring some normalcy back to the situation.

‘Jaaaaaames,’ he drawls, ‘I just want to know why Reggie doesn’t date, and I’m sure he’d at least tell you his reasoning when he rejects you.’

James sighs, muttering out a hesitant ‘fine.’

‘So? When are you going to ask?’ Sirius is basically bouncing where he sits, and James knows that he’s not patient, and Sirius wants James to ask Regulus now, but shit, James has wanted to ask Regulus out for three years, and he’s never been one to half-ass things, so he’s going to do this right.

‘Give me a week, yeah?’ He turns back to his books, trying to re-focus on his essay preparation. He can feel Sirius’ eyes boring into him, but he refuses to look up.

‘Yeah, alright then, Prongs.’

And that’s the end of that.

James spends the next week planning out how best to ask Regulus on a date. He knows that Regulus doesn’t like a public spectacle, and that he spends most of his time in the library. He knows that Regulus is on the university archery team, and trains for that three days a week. He knows that Regulus likes old books and older music and loves the charity shop a ten-minute walk away from campus.

He knows all this but he doesn’t know how to ask Regulus Black out.

The days pass and James is nervous; his self-imposed deadline is fast approaching and he still doesn’t know what to do. He decides to go to From the Ground Up, figuring that caffeine will help clear his head. It’s a short walk; only ten minutes, and James needs the fresh air.

The coffee shop is a home away from home, ambient jazz playing in the background, accompanying the sounds of keyboards clacking as students work on seminar notes. James greets Pandora, the barista he’s become familiar with, before ordering his usual; a strawberry frappe with caramel syrup and whipped cream.

He zones out while Pandora makes his drink; the sounds of the machines a comforting background tune, taking his drink as she slides it across the counter and slurping shamelessly.

‘Got enough sugar there, Potter?’

And shit, there he is, and it’s too soon and James isn’t prepared. He chokes on his drink, strawberry frappe streaming out of his nose and it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

He struggles to clean himself while also holding his drink, and he’s sure there’s drool on his chin and frappe spilling out of the glass and this is a mess. He’s flustered and he can’t think straight and Regulus is right there and-

Oh.

There’s a hand on his chin and James’ brain stops.

Regulus takes the frappe, placing it on the counter before moving to wipe James’ face off, his chin still held in Regulus’ hands as he runs the napkin over his mouth and James can’t stop staring.

Regulus is treating him like he’s something special, something breakable, and the words are out before James has fully registered them.

‘Willyougoonadatewithme?’ It comes out jumbled and far too fast and there’s a flush creeping up James’ neck and this wasn’t how he wanted to ask Regulus; he wanted it to be perfect but he’s covered in strawberry frappe and he’s making such a mess-

‘Okay James, I’ll go on a date with you.’ Regulus smiles softly, and James thinks his world shifts on its axis, realigning itself to orbit around Regulus Black.

‘Oh, that’s- I mean- um, that’s- thanks.’ James is malfunctioning, splitting apart at the seams, because Regulus Black said yes.

The boy in question chuckles softly, moving the napkin away from James’ face and taking his hand instead, despite the fact that it’s covered in frappe.

‘Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can discuss this date,’ Regulus says, guiding James to the bathroom, and James is powerless to do anything other than follow him, nodding dumbly.

It’s soft and tender and James has never been looked at like this before. He’s half-convinced that this is a fever dream, that Regulus Black would never say yes to a date with him, let alone when he’s covered in strawberry frappe.

Regulus draws his hands over to the sink, running the tap and cleaning in between his fingers with so much care that doesn’t quite know how to process.

It feels like the start of something much bigger than James could have imagined; something that will consume him whole.

He thinks he’ll let it.

‘Why did you say yes to me? You’ve got a reputation, you know, and I didn’t think you’d say yes,’ He mumbles, because Regulus said yes to him, and he can’t quite wrap his head around that.

‘Oh, I was waiting for you to ask,’ Regulus says, like it’s obvious, like it’s no big deal.

James feels too big for his skin, feels like he’s going to explode, feels too much, but Regulus is still holding his hand and looking at him like he’s the only person in the universe and James has never wanted something so badly.

‘Can I kiss you,’ he blurts out, and Regulus blooms, a blush painting his cheeks a delicate pink as a smile draws itself across his face.

‘I was waiting for you to ask that, too.’ James is a goner, helpless to do anything other than press his lips to Regulus’.

It’s not what he had in mind; they’re in a coffee shop bathroom and James is still covered in strawberry frappe but Regulus’ lips are soft and he tastes like black coffee and his hands are winding into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly, and James wants to stay here forever.

They break apart and it could have been seconds or minutes or hours or days but James can only think of Regulus; his entire universe narrowed down to a focal point in Regulus Black’s eyes.

They go on their first date later that day; James follows Regulus round his favourite charity shop, and he still smells of strawberry frappe but Regulus is talking to him about the importance of sustainable fashion and he thinks it’s perfect anyway.

They tell Sirius that evening, and he threatens James and threatens Regulus but he can’t hide the grin on his face, and they both know he loves them, and is happy for them.

They hold hands on campus the next week. The rumour mill responds accordingly, asking how James Potter of all people got lucky enough to secure a date with undateable Regulus Black.

Turns out that Regulus Black does date. He was just waiting for James Potter to ask him out.

Reblog if you’d be okay if your friend came out as transgender

let’s see how many transphobics we can weed out

Regulus: I don’t love him, I don’t even like him, in fact I hate him.

Cut to Regulus gently taking off James’ glasses when he accidentally fell asleep with them on

Why have I never met a Finnish marauders fan?!?

Regulus and Remus are the type of people, who are often found sitting somewhere covered in thousands of blankets reading a book.

Sirius would rock a smokey eye

hallucination

Sirius’s lover was the spy.

It was obvious, actually. Remus Lupin was betraying the Order, giving secrets and information to the Death Eaters, to Voldemort, allowing Muggles and Muggle-borns to die, and deserting Sirius. And Sirius was just as bad, because all he cared about was the fact that Remus didn’t care about him. He couldn’t care less if Remus was a mass-murderer, as long as Remus still loved him. But Remus didn’t and so Sirius hated himself, because he was still in love with a traitor, and all he wanted was for said traitor to love him.

It started off okay, at first. In the first few months, Remus was doing typical Order work, normal shifts and lookouts and guards. Casting spells, making wards, sorting papers. Then in the next few months, he began going on missions every full moon. Sirius immediately deduced that Remus was working with werewolf packs, even if Remus wasn’t to breathe a word about it, because who was he to not memorise the dates of every one of his lover’s transformations? So that was okay. Remus came back, wearily smiling, but still fighting.

But then things changed. A couple more full moons, and Remus looked like he’d completely given up. He wouldn’t smile anymore, he wouldn’t touch anyone, he would flinch, always watching his back, like one of the Order members would attack him, and for what? Why would his allies hurt him? Unless they weren’t his allies anymore. But Sirius had shaken that thought out of his head; something must have happened with the packs. But Remus wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t accept comfort. When his lover reached out, he would curl within himself, hide away. Sleep on the couch, never their bed.

Then he began leaving at random points in the month. No correlation to the moon. He’d go up on “missions” and disappear for days, coming back looking harder and meaner. Jaw set, fists clenched, eyes sharp. He’d still have his full moon missions, but there was no news whatsoever about werewolves aiding the Order. So what was Remus doing with them?

It got worse. It got to the point that Remus spent more time out of the apartment than in it. And then he started leaving for reasons that weren’t even missions: started going to the pub, getting hammered out of his mind, returning in the morning stumbling and swearing. He started regularly smoking and drinking, and you could never see him without a bottle or cigarette.

Right now, Sirius was alone in their flat, which might as well just be his, because once again, Remus was not in it. He wrinkled his nose at the couch, with its unwashed sheets Remus had been using for countless days, its Muggle beer stains, its cigarette ash. And then, because he was an infatuated dunderhead, he walked to the couch, picked up the blanket, and inhaled.

His stress vanished. How could it be that even when he was stressing over Remus, his scent still calmed him down? It wasn’t fair.

Then he heard the wards come down, and the unlocking of the door, before his aforementioned lover stepped forward. And Sirius could let go of the blanket and retain his dignity, but the drunken thug probably wouldn’t even notice.

He was right. Remus simply toppled into the couch, not even glancing at Sirius. Sirius threw him the middle finger, stomping off to ensure the wards were back up, and to lock the fucking door. Did Remus want the Death Eaters to come here? He probably did, being a traitor and all.

He turned, about to storm into their bedroom, now probably just his own (honestly, why didn’t Remus just break up with him already?), curl up in the sheets and cry into his two-way mirror, when he heard Remus murmur, “‘E was sniffin’ yer blanket. Stinks. Should wash it…”

Sirius froze. That was the most amount of words he’d heard from Remus in months. And it still sent his heart careening in his chest. And then Remus grumbled, “An’ ‘e flipped yer off. Bitch.”

Sirius turned around and raised a brow. “Excuse me?” He asked coldly.

Remus blinked. “Hallucinatin’. Yer nutter. So fuckin’ in love.”

Sirius stalked towards him, heart in his chest. Was this finally it? “Finish that train of thought, Moony.”

“Moony,” Remus echoed softly, closing his eyes as tears gathered in his lashes. “Yer like that, don’t yer?” he smiled twistedly. “Pathetic.” Sirius tensed.

“Fine, Remus, fucking spit it out then,” he snarled.

“‘E’s not real, mate. Go on, touch ‘im,” Remus mumbled, tears slipping down his cheeks, leaving shining streaks across his skin, which Sirius desperately wanted to wipe away, once more trailing his fingers across Remus’s rugged face, tracing the scars and imbuing them with love, pressing his thumbs into his cheeks until dimples appeared beneath them, connecting the dots between his freckles… and Remus had said ‘touch him’, hadn’t he?

Sure, Remus wasn’t making much sense, but with the tip of his forefinger, Sirius took a tear off Remus’s cheek. Remus’s eyelids snapped open and he jerked back on the couch, blinking furiously. “You’re not real,” he said, louder and more clearly.

Sirius immediately retracted his hand to his side. He raised a brow. “I’m real.”

Remus hesitantly reached out and drew some sort of wobbly pattern across Sirius’s wrist. And maybe Sirius was going slightly mad, but that was definitely the best way someone had ever touched him. Remus pulled his finger back, and inspected it curiously. He looked back up at Sirius. “Never been able to touch you before.”

Sirius was getting increasingly concerned. “Moony, love, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Remus smiled timidly. “You’re nicer than the others. Mind must like me today, huh?”

“Remus, Remus, I’m real. Your mind’s not imagining me or whatever,” Sirius vaguely gestured to Remus’s head.

And then Remus burst out into sobs. Sirius immediately dropped to his knees beside the couch, reaching out and running a hand across Remus’s back, through his hair, trying to stop the man he loved from hurting.

“Wand, wand,” Remus muttered, procuring it and casting a silencing charm around the couch. “So real you won’t hear,” he explained, jabbing a finger to the bedroom. He blinked up at Sirius happily and hopefully. “‘M drunk enough to imagine your touch. Hug me?”

So Sirius clambered into the couch beside Remus and wrapped him in his arms, pressing his lips to his hair. Apparently, Remus had hallucinations about him. And apparently, Remus cast silencing charms so Sirius wouldn’t hear him cry. Sirius squeezed Remus tighter, while he snuggled into his chest. And he should probably let Remus sleep, but maybe Remus would tell his hallucination things?

“What’s on your mind, Moons?” Sirius mumbled into his hair.

Remus looked up, fist curled into Sirius’s chest. “I miss you, you know,” he whispered, the words brushing over Sirius’s mouth.

“Yeah? Why don’t you go talk to the real me?”

Remus’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently, burying his head back into Sirius’s chest. “Can’t. Got too much shit now. Don’t wanna hurt him. An’ he hates me now.”

Sirius frowned. There were many things wrong with what Remus had just stated. “How could you hurt him? And he doesn’t hate you.”

Remus laughed brokenly. “Does too. Can’t stand the sight of me, can ‘e?”

“He barely gets to see you,” Sirius pointed out. The real reason was that he couldn’t stand the sight of Remus not being his.

“Better that way,” Remus muttered, hand over Sirius’s chest, brows furrowed but slowly relaxing, as his breathing matched the beat of Sirius’s heart.

Sirius wanted to smile down at him, but also scream in his face. He controlled himself, softly asking, “Why?”

“Oh, y’know. The packs an’ all that. Greyback’s bein’ a bitch. Likes attackin’ us while we’re human, still. Like, mate, take a break, yer already bit me and ruined my life. I dunno how many people I’ve killed at this point. Or how many fellow werewolves, actually. My mouth always feels so dirty.”

Sirius simply gaped at him, while Remus tilted his head up and smiled absent-mindedly. “Been ages since I last hallucinated you, love. Got so much to tell you.”

“Tell me,” Sirius somehow uttered, hands tightening in Remus’s hair as he fought the urge to throw up and cry.

Remus grinned excitedly. “Your voice is so perfect.” Sirius felt his heart shatter. Remus then frowned, “I dunno where to start. Still got my full moon missions, where I run ‘round with the packs and try to stop them killing Muggles and Muggle-borns. I think sometimes I succeed, ‘cause I’m still with other animals, right? I think better. Although I’ve got so much innocent blood on my hands. Every time I suggest going to the woods, they all snarl at me. I told Dumbledore, I dunno why he keeps trying to convince them. They’re not budging. It’s ‘cause of Greyback, too. Poisoning their minds.”

Remus looked up, tears streaming down his face. “They could be so good, Sirius. You don’t understand. There’s so much waste. Wasted lives, Sirius. I can’t—” Remus began shaking.

Sirius rubbed his hands along Remus’s body repetitively, burying his nose into his hair and breathing, placing soft, feather-light kisses over his tightly fisted hands. “I’m sorry, Moony. Please don’t hurt. Please. I love you. So much,” he said reverently between kisses.

Remus simply shook even more. “You’re not real, not real, stop, stop, please,” he clutched his head, tugging at his hair.

Sirius made a decision, grabbing Remus’s hand and pulling him up from the couch. “I am real, and honestly, it’s insulting that you’re so convinced I’m not.” He tugged him towards their bedroom, kicking the door open. “Look. Sirius ain’t there. Sirius is right here, holding your hand, because I am Sirius, and I love you so much.”

He stared fiercely into Remus’s rapidly blinking eyes, daring him to call him a fucking hallucination one more time. Finally, Remus choked, “You can’t be. You, you can’t—” Remus threw himself into Sirius, yelling, “Stop, please, stop—”

“Stop what?” Sirius pulled Remus back and looked him in the eyes. “Stop your missions? Yes, I think I’m gonna do that. I’m gonna tell Dumbledore to stop your fucking missions, because they’re fucked up, and evidently pointless. And if Dumbles can’t see that, he’s evidently fucked up and pointless too.”

“No!” Remus flailed. “It’s for the greater good! The greater good, the greater good…” he muttered to himself.

“Fuck the greater good. You’re the greatest good. You’re the one that matters, you’re the one who needs to be happy, not fucking Dumbledore.”

Remus looked at him sceptically. After a long time of just staring, he spoke, “When do you think real Sirius will be back? Think we can sleep in his bed?”

Sirius genuinely wanted to rip his hair out. “Yes, you can sleep in our fucking bed, because it belongs to you and Sirius. And I’m Sirius! For the love of Merlin, please! I’m Sirius son of a bitch Black!”

Remus just stared at him. And then his face split into a small smile. “I was joking that time.”

It was Sirius’s turn to stare at him in shock. “REMUS LUPIN. YOU ARE BLOODY LUCKY I LOVE YOU.”

Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse