That I'd Walk So Far Just To Take The Injury Of Finally Knowing You - Hozier, Unknown / Nth

james worshipping regulus will always be my favourite jegulus dynamic. James buying everything regulus wants, driving him everywhere, but especially fucking him whenever regulus wants it. All that regulus needs to say is a whiny "Jamie please," and james is absolute putty in the palm of his hand.

dare i say the black brothers? could work either way as well

excerpt from Antigone by Jean Anouilh (trans. Lewis Galantiere)

i’m always in my own little bubble

i almost never want to listen to new music

i stay in the following feed of social media

i really only have, like, 6 friends i continuously talk to

i’m always shocked when my friends are talking about a topic that seems so familiar to them

i’ve stayed in the same school my whole life

i’ve lived in the same city my whole life

i wear the same clothes, the same hair, and the same face everyday

but frankly, i enjoy it.

yes i want to explore

i want to know everything and everyone

but knowledge is terrifying and clearly there are some things better left unknown.

so yes, i might not be as aware of my surroundings as i should be, but i am comfortable.

just gonna put this here

sometimes i wonder if i’m really a perfectionist and then i remember that i have an incredibly detailed marauders era timeline that has every full moon, prank, birthday, and any important music that was released down to the day just in case one day i want to write fanfiction for this god forsaken fandom.

(and don’t worry it’s all fact checked and accurate)

okay it won’t let me put this in a reply so here it is lol

Timetoast timelines

Marauders Era Timeline

Marauders Era Timeline

sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids sirius black in braids

Draped in Devotion

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo always acts like it’s an inconvenience. The way his sweaters disappear into the abyss of your wardrobe, but when you walk into a crowded room wearing something that still carries his scent, his patience stretches thin, because everyone can see what he already knows. You’re his, and you always will be.

Theodore Nott had never been one for loud proclamations of affection. His love was quiet—woven into fleeting touches, stolen glances, the way he always positioned himself between you and potential danger, even if that “danger” was just Malfoy’s sharp tongue or an overeager Ravenclaw looking at you for a bit too long.

His love was also threaded into the fabric of every sweater and shirt that you stole from him.

Or, rather, that he let you steal.

Theo liked to pretend it annoyed him—huffing when you walked into his dorm wearing one of his favorite jumpers, grumbling under his breath about how he’d never see it again. But deep down, he liked it.

No, he loved it.

He loved seeing you wrapped in something that smelled like him, the sleeves always too long, the collar slightly stretched because you’d tug at it absentmindedly. He loved how his clothes clung to you in ways that were so entirely different from how they fit him, how they told the world in a thousand unspoken ways that you belonged to him.

And yet, he still put up the act—because it made you smirk, made you tease him, made you kiss him sweetly as if you were thanking him for something he hadn’t even protested in the first place.

It started on a cold winter evening in the Slytherin dorms.

Snow had blanketed the castle grounds, and the fire in the common room was flickering lazily, casting warm golden light against the emerald-draped walls. You were curled up on Theo’s bed, wearing your own uniform, shivering slightly despite the thick blankets.

Theo, who had been reading beside you, let out a long, exasperated sigh before tugging off the sweater he was wearing. He tossed it at you, expression flat but eyes gleaming with something warmer than the firelight.

"Take it," he muttered, feigning reluctance. "If you’re going to steal my things, you might as well do it while I’m watching."

You had grinned, tugging it over your head, inhaling deeply at the scent of him. "Oh, I’m definitely keeping this one."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled you into his side, fingers playing with the hem of the sweater as if memorizing the sight of it on you.

It became a habit after that.

Every time you stayed in his dorm after late-night study sessions, every time you dragged him away from his potions homework just to lie on his bed and talk, every time you snuck into his room under the guise of “forgetting something”—you left with something of his.

It was almost a game, at first.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Theo realized that he looked forward to it. That on mornings when he walked into the Great Hall and saw you sitting there, sipping your tea, wearing his sweater, something settled in his chest.

Possessiveness wasn’t the right word for it. It was something deeper than that.

It was his. You were his.

And no one could miss it when you walked through the halls wrapped in pieces of him.

One morning, after a particularly long night spent in his dormitory, you slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table, still half-asleep.

You were wearing his deep emerald sweater again—the same one he had given you weeks ago, the same one you’d never returned.

The moment you entered, eyes flickered toward you, lingering for a beat too long. The realization hit slowly, like a flame catching onto parchment—the Slytherins knew exactly whose sweater that was.

And so did Theo.

He had been pouring himself tea when you sat down beside him, but the moment his gaze landed on you, his hand stilled. His jaw tensed, lips pressing together as he let his eyes drag over the familiar fabric draped over your frame.

You could see it—the way his grip tightened around the handle of his cup, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Draco, who had been lounging across from you, smirked. "You’re doing it on purpose now, aren’t you?"

You feigned innocence, tearing off a piece of toast. "Doing what?"

"Parading around in his clothes like a bloody banner," Blaise chimed in, sipping his coffee. "You do realize half the idiots in this school were holding onto the delusion that they had a shot with you, right?"

Theo still hadn’t said anything. He was watching you, waiting.

So you turned to him, tilting your head slightly. "Is there a problem, Nott?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his tea down with a little more force than necessary. Then, he leaned in close, voice dropping just for you.

"You don’t ask for them anymore," he murmured.

Your lips twitched. "Do I need to?"

His fingers brushed against the hem of the sweater where it rested against your thigh. His touch was light, barely there, but you felt it like a brand.

"You could at least pretend to give them back."

You grinned, reaching for your own tea. "And deprive you of the pleasure of seeing me in them? I wouldn’t dream of it."

Theo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. But when he sat back, his arm stretched out behind you, his fingers resting lightly against the curve of your hip.

And that was it. No grand declarations. No loud possessiveness.

Just a touch. Just a look.

But it was enough.

Later that evening, you found yourself back in his dormitory, curled up against his chest as the winter wind howled outside the window. The sweater was still draped over you, and Theo’s fingers traced along the hem absentmindedly, his touch warm against your skin.

"You never actually get mad when I take them," you mused, shifting slightly so you could look up at him.

Theo sighed, carding a hand through his hair. "You do take them often."

"You give them to me," you corrected.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his fingers slid under the fabric, ghosting along your bare skin.

"You could just ask me for them," he murmured. "I’d give you anything you wanted."

Your breath hitched. He always said things like that—effortless, unguarded truths that made your heart stutter.

"Where’s the fun in that?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He made a low noise of amusement, his lips brushing against your temple. "Just promise me one thing."

You hummed, nuzzling against him. "What’s that?"

His hand splayed against your back, holding you closer. "If you’re going to keep stealing my sweaters," he murmured, "just make sure I get to see you in them."

Your lips curled as you tangled your fingers with his. "Always."

Theo sighed, but there was no exasperation in it this time—just quiet, content surrender.

Because you weren’t just wearing his sweaters.

You were wearing him.

“i never see you at the club” ok well i never see you on ao3 at 2am reading about the same two bitches falling in love for the 1000th time in the 500th way

THIS IS SO JURDANNNNN OMG (need tfota moots)

i simply like m/f romances where the woman is completely feral and the guy is just little too into it

a deer is a herbivore.

a lion is a carnivore.

and a werewolf is a chocolativore