422 words, James Potter/Regulus Black, Sirius Black, unnecessary use of the French language
“Comprenez-vous bien ce que je vous dis?”
James scrunches his nose and absently responds with, “Bless you,” as he pours himself some tea from the kettle.
“It wasn’t a sneeze, James. I thought you’d been practicing your French?” Sirius asks, though he bowls on without waiting for an answer. “I literally asked if you understood what I’m saying to you.”
“Clearly I don’t,” he grumbles, feeling very unlike himself. “I’m just whiffing it, mate. French is beyond me, dunno why I thought I’d even try.”
Sirius glares at him, unimpressed.
“I thought you wanted to ask Reggie out in French?”
“I think at this point he’s going to laugh at me either way, so why bother?”
“So this isn’t about the French?”
If Sirius knew him less, then James suspects he wouldn’t have said something so obvious, but this is his best mate who can push him until he stands on the edge precariously, dangling just enough to kick him into action to save himself.
“He’s going to say no, so I won’t bother asking.”
Sirius sighs and pulls out his phone, dialling out a call, and James immediately freezes.
“What are you doing?”
Sirius puts up his finger, and then James attempts a half-hearted lunge for it, unsuccessfully pulling back as Regulus answers.
“What do you want?”
“Remus and I have a bet going, brother of mine. Settle this for us: if James asked you out, would you say yes?”
James huffs, rolling his eyes and then whispering to Sirius that he’s not going to bloody answer that.
“I said you wouldn’t,” Sirius adds with a grin.
“And, as usual, your exceptionally better half is correct. I’d entertain Potter… if he had the nerve.”
Freezing where he is, the smug look Sirius is still fostering makes him want to smack the smarmy git… yet he also is contemplating stealing his phone again to ask Regulus out right this instant for fear of him changing his mind.
“Merci, Regulus, au revoir.”
“Au revoir, idiot.”
Sirius squawks at the phone as the line goes dead, but he still manages to pick himself up and look back at James with a raised brow.
“See?”
“Might do.”
“So… are you going to ask him out.”
James groans.
“Oui, c'est le cas.”
Proud as any parent, Sirius claps him on the shoulder.
“Good lad.”
Hopefully, Regulus gives him the same answer he gave Sirius, or else all the French rattling around his head will have been for naught but to impress his very-taken best mate.
Idk why but whenever I write Ginny and Harry they just… wanna fuck. They can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s not even me, gang, it’s literally them telling me as I write that they HAVE to be horny about it.
459 words, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, fluff, old married couple, and by old they’re 46/45 so quite young tbh
Harry, who has never craved the kind of attention he’s always gotten, puts in a valiant effort all day at keeping them from going to the as-intimate party as Ginny could arrange. He seduces her early that morning to delay breakfast, interrupts her mid-morning shower, and even now, as she slides a wispy, green dress on, is doing his damdest to slide it right back off.
“Harry, you lout. This party is for you.”
“And yet all I want is you,” he parrots back, and Ginny rolls her eyes, feeling the same contentment she always does when her husband wraps her up in his arms.
Her annoying git of a husband then starts to place kiss after hot kiss down her neck, the strap he’s slid off twice now finally falling enough to bring a hand up and-
She smacks his wrist and darts away, his complaints immediately being registered as she rights her beaded strap and puts out a hand before he can corrupt her again.
“You can do literally whatever you’d like to me later, but for now, we’re going to this party where all your friends and family and children are going to celebrate you because they love you, not because they think you’re some great git who’s better than Merlin, which you aren’t… by the way.”
The way he grins and laughs at her humbling is why she loves him so much. Harry tugs at his hair, and Ginny, for a moment, almost gives in when she sees his bicep stretch his shirt.
“Bloody hell, Gin, you drive a hard bargain.”
“I said you could do anything to me, it’s a pretty good deal. Nothing hard about it.”
Harry raises a brow and gestures to his crotch inelegantly. She just laughs at him.
“You’re a grown boy. Cast the charm and let’s go.”
“Cast the charm?” Harry balks, and Ginny responds by sticking a hand on her hip and waiting. “You won’t… quickly handle it for your husband’s birthday?”
The proper begging is cute, she’ll give him that, so she saunters up and puts one of her sharp nails at his throat and drags it down, reaching behind herself while Harry grins, thinking he’s won. Unfortunately for him, she’s quick with her wand, sliding the back of her satin dress up from the slit in the thigh and taking it from her holster.
The charm is cast before he can realize he’s been apparated halfway across Britain, too.
They land straight in the middle of the party, everyone cheering, and the way he grabs onto her is just the right tone of possessive. Now he’s really going to take advantage of her offer tonight. It’s exactly what she wanted, though, as is the party packed full with family and friends, not an eye or heart in the crowd that would ever think of Harry other than someone they love very deeply.
Happy forty-six, Harry, she thinks to herself, and as small as any Weasley gathering can be, she thinks she did well.
Introvert Reggie with Extrovert James where neither try to make the other act differently is *cheff’s kiss*
281 words, James Potter/Regulus Black, fluff
James always expressed that he wouldn’t change for anyone, and while that used to piss Regulus off to no end, he finds that he wouldn’t change anything about James now, either. Not the way he seeks him out when he turns into himself, nor the way James is always the first one to crack a joke or lighten the mood if Sirius doesn’t beat him to it. Regulus loves everything about him, and any resentment from the past has waned into ancient history, for the thing about James is that when he becomes someone’s, he becomes theirs irrevocably.
“Alright, love?” James’ voice breaks through his reverie, exhausted and out of breath as he plants a kiss on Regulus’ curls, still swaying from the dancing he’s doing across the club with the rest of their friends.
“Just fine. You can go back to what you were doing. I quite liked the look of it.”
James grins salaciously and then leans down, whispering in his ear.
“Like watching, do you?”
Regulus turns and bites into James’ jawline, quelling the urge to pull him down and start something they couldn’t finish, at least not in a public club.
“Love it.”
The man musters something close to a growl and then kisses Regulus, abandoning him as fast as he arrived, back to the dance floor and the movement of hundreds of bodies around him, entirely himself, and letting Regulus be himself, too: watching from a dark corner and no less happy for not being dragged into the chaos.
They are themselves… just together now, and while sometimes James still pisses him off, there’s love there he never expected and never wants to get rid of.
Moving house makes Sirius nostalgic. What other reason would he be smoking a cigarette in the same place he and Remus used to snog after classes let out? What reason would he have to place his back against the tree and slide down until the bark rips into his skin?
Punishment, maybe. For promising all those previous versions of himself that Remus loved but couldn’t reckon with would stay in the past. For letting some of it slip and leak into their happiness after Remus specifically requested he do his best not to break his heart. For, perhaps, breaking it anyways.
Time bleeds until James ends up crouched in front of him, gently slapping him on the knee.
“C’mon mate. Everything’s packed up.”
“Good riddance,” Sirius mutters. “London, here we come.”
James grins, dangling keys in front of him as he helps him up, brushing the bark silently off his back. Then, he looks around and sighs at Sirius who does his best to ignore that look.
“One day, we’ll come back and maybe he’ll-”
“Maybe,” Sirius agrees, though he tries not to hope too hard. “Maybe.”
James just grins, and they’re off to change their lives, Sirius praying he changes just enough to one day be Remus’ again.
When the day comes of what would’ve been Hope’s fifty-third birthday, Sirius finds his husband sitting on the deck of their home. He comes up behind him and slides a hand down his chest, resting on his shoulder as they stare out at the Welsh fields.
“Do you think she’d be proud now, to see us this happy?”
Remus shrugs.
“I dunno, Siri. You certainly weren’t her ideal dream for me when you showed up that night.”
Sirius laughs, smacking a kiss on his husband’s cheek.
“What? The leather, the tattoos, and our matching helmets with our initials carved into them didn’t inspire confidence?”
The laugh that leaves Remus is one of the many reasons Sirius loves him. It’s so full, so charming. He fell for Remus long before that night they went away, and here he is, ten years later, still loving him.
“And yet she let me go.”
“Your father threw a proper fit, I’m told.”
Remus huffs.
“I suppose. I’ll never really know anymore.” Quiet reigns for a moment, then Sirius rounds the chair and plops into Remus’ lap.
“We’ve done well. My art, your teaching… we made it, despite everything.”
“Yeah. We did… and I think… I think they’re both proud. Hopefully. Probably.”
Sirius laughs and threads his hands through Remus’ hair, kissing him proper.
Alright gang, for the sacrifice today I have freak 4 freak Evan and Barty.
732 words, Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, quiet abduction, stockholm syndrome-au, there's something going on between them and it ain't right, nor do we want it to be, explicit/suggestive language
There’s something to be said for a quiet evening in, Evan thinks. He glances over his book to make sure Barty is still present in the room, smiling when he finds him sorting through a set of gears as he holds his wand between his teeth, a slight wrinkle of concentration on his brow.
They’ve been on the go the past few weeks, day in and day out, moving Barty’s things into Evan’s home and collecting anything else he could possibly want to transition into being a kept man.
Well, that’s how Evan explained it at least.
He keeps an eye on his prey, observing as someone so bloody smart falls into his trap hour by hour. It makes him a bit cocky and half-hard, just the idea that he finally tamed the Barty Crouch Junior, wizengamot politician’s son and the smartest wix in his era.
“How’s the project going?”
Barty spares him but a glance as he grins and takes his wand out of his mouth. The spells he performs are too complicated for Evan to understand, but that’s alright. Barty is smarter, stronger, and wittier than Evan, yet he’d used all that to his advantage to entrap him.
“Well, I bollocksed the welding spell on the first try, so considering I’m on my second go and nothing has gone wrong yet, I’d say net-zero. Might need to run out and grab a few fiddly bits tomorrow, though.”
Evan just hums.
“We can go whenever you’d like.”
“I can go on my own,” Barty responds casually, sticking his wand back between his teeth.
Evan tries to keep the wave of indignation at bay… but it’s been weeks now without any conflict and a part of him is itching for a fight. What part, he’s not sure. He wanted Barty here, trapped but happy, yet something inside of him likes when he can take someone in hand. Besides, he can’t wait to see the look on Barty’s face when he realizes he’s been had.
“I’m not letting you do that.”
“I know,” Barty huffs, wand still in his mouth.
Evan’s head moves back an inch, startled by the declaration and how sure he is.
“You know? What do you think you know?”
Barty spits out his wand and looks him dead in the eye, “The wards don’t respond to my magic, you’ve got Gringotts-level security magic up, and you haven’t let me out of your sight in ages, glaring at any bloke or bird who glances my way. Not that I care, mind, s’long as you keep up your end of the deal.”
“My end of the deal?” Evan balks, abandoning his book to the side and withdrawing his wand.
“Yeah, calm your tits. I stay here, be your little pet, don’t work and don’t run too far, and you get to fuck me good and proper all the while caging me in like a potions experiment. M’not sure yet what you get out of it besides control over me and the best arse this side of the pond, but s’not so bad an arrangement, if you think about it.”
Evan’s hand grips his wand as if to snap it in half. Maybe he should do that to Barty’s. Would that increase the edge? Does he even want that? Or is the knowing better?
“And if I never let you leave again? Take your wand, put you in nothing but a warming charm for me to stare at every day, then what? Would you be so complicit then?”
Barty chuckles, crawls around the table he was working at and slides Evan’s knees open. He’s so hard it’s becoming uncomfortable, and the space his thighs create makes him moan.
“Remember, baby, if I can be stuck with you, that makes you just as much stuck with me too,” and he vanishes everything Evan is wearing with a wave of his hand, a powerful exhibit of magic which doesn’t help the situation in his trousers.
Maybe Evan underestimated him, or maybe… this is exactly what he needed. A hot mouth attaches to him, and he brutally grabs onto Barty’s hair, refusing to let go no matter what. He can work with this, he thinks, this mutual torture.
Barty’s tongue, suddenly split in two, wraps around him and before he’s fully pulled under this intoxicating spell, he thinks he most definitely can make this work.
So, I have some remus x gn!reader that I wrote on a whim at the idea of what some teasing might turn into when you're messing with Remus. Honestly, it was pretty fun to write, but I did have to walk a thin line of what I thought he'd take and what he absolutely wouldn't. ANYWAYS
797 words, Reader x Remus Lupin, EXPLICIT sexual content, post-hogwarts, werewolf remus, generic terms for reader, degredation, 18+
You find out about Remus’ secret on accident. It’s a joke, something you say to tease him when you’re in the middle of foreplay: “I thought werewolves were supposed to be well-endowed?”
It’s said in the most joking tone you can muster, and you two have been teasing for hours so he knows you’re taking the piss, too, but there’s something else in his eyes when you say it. His prick jumps, and your head goes back just slightly. Because he is indeed, very well endowed, but you like to be mean sometimes so he’ll be mean back.
This reaction, however, is new, and Remus’ face glows red seconds later.
“Do you like that?”
“I think you’d know, by now, if I did,” he huffs, grabbing your hips and dragging them over his erection.
Skin on skin feels lovely, but you’re determined to get to the bottom of that shiver.
“Remmy…”
Part moan, part call for him to listen to you, you decide to take the brave route instead. If there’s one thing this relationship has given you, it’s confidence. Remus is so complimentary, loving, and attracted to you that it’s hard to remember ever hating yourself. Not that he was the solution to such thoughts, but he was certainly an aid.
“Does my little wolf like it when I say he’s not got all that he thinks he does down there? That I don’t think he could split me open even if he was trying?”
You put a free hand on his wrist, his palm squeezing your hip, and then Remus keens as you brace your other hand on his chest, stopping him from moving your groin over his. He looks positively feral.
“I think I like the challenge.”
You grin. Remus bucks his hips.
“Baby-”
“What do you want, mutt?”
Remus eyes roll into the back of his head, his hips arching into yours so strongly you can’t really hold him down.
“Hm? Can’t even answer me? Not going to prove me wrong?”
His eyes pop back open, and soon you two are flipped, his hands divesting you of everything you’re wearing, layer by layer as his short nails scrape against your skin. It feels so good that for a moment, you’ve lost the plot entirely. Until he’s kissing your neck and down your chest, then his face is in between your legs.
You grab his hair, tight as he bites your thighs and teases the creases of your hips.
“Is that all you plan to do? Use your mouth? I suppose it’ll do.”
You bite your lip at your own words, because he’s conjured lube at some point and slips a finger into you, then another. It’s impossible not to feel good as Remus adds his mouth and you almost don’t want to egg him on any longer. Almost.
Problem is, the moment you go to say more, he beats you to it and begins to consume you whole. Your jaw drops, and the only thing that exits is a hefty moan that can probably be heard from the flat next door. The hand in his hair clenches, and he moans into your skin, making the pleasure all that more extreme.
By the time you’re loose and on the edge, Remus lets off and crawls up to you again, smirking.
“Anymore complaints, love?”
“I mean… you could fuck me. With what you’ve got, anyways.”
“With what I’ve-” he abandons the statement and snorts, kissing you silent, your own taste haunting his as your tongues mingle.
It’s undeniable when he enters you that what he has is more than enough. You squeeze and clutch to every part of him you have a hold on, and Remus chuckles.
“Regret the teasing yet?”
He punctuates every word with a brutal thrust.
“Teasing?” You huff, breathless and overcome. “You’re just a puppy-” he wraps a hand around your throat- “You need a firm hand, lest you forget who owns you.”
Remus is thoroughly amused now, and speaking of firm, his hand squeezes the breath from your throat, the pleasure going straight to where you and he are connected. It’s just what you need to bring you right to the edge and then over it, the pleasure overcoming you allowing Remus his own release, too.
When you both finish, he lets up and lays at your side, chuckling gently.
“That was fun,” you say bravely, pecking kisses against his lips.
“Mhm… I enjoyed proving you wrong.”
“So maybe it’s not so much the degradation you like, but you’re just a swot.”
He pokes you in the ribs for that jab, though his face is red. Maybe it’s both.
Thanks to my husband and the greentext that he showed me which inspired this :)
Wolfstar workplace AU, fresh off the presses!
750(ish) words, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Wolfstar, workplace romance, boss/employee (not for long hehe)
Remus feels his heart drop when his boss calls him into his office and tells him to shut the door. Like any employee who does his best not to cause trouble, he automatically assumes he’s going to be fired. A reasonable reaction, he thinks, but for what reason he cannot put his finger on.
Sure, he’s got rheumatic joints that keep him at home and working from his laptop a few times a months, but Sirius never seems to mind. Then there’s how much tea he drinks. Perhaps, he’s overindulged on the complimentary leaves on offer in the office? Or, and he loathes to think this one might be it, his boss has finally gotten sick of his ogling.
Remus will be the first to admit that Sirius is… fucking stunning. Curly black hair that is more reminiscent of a popstar than a CEO, cheekbones that could cut, a face card which not only doesn’t decline, but probably has unlimited credit, too, and that bloody walk. Sirius Black is all sinew and attraction, and Remus, gangly and scarred as he is, likes the bloke.
It’s almost shameful.
Almost being the key word because everyone stares at Sirius Black, not just Remus. It's impossible not to.
So, when he stumbles over the leg of a chair before he sits down, who is he to blame when he gets caught up in the worried look on Sirius’ face?
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you. Sorry.”
Sirius chuckles.
“No need. I have… an odd proposition for you, do you have a few minutes?”
Remus, who is not prone to optimism, wonders if all of his dreams are about to come true because who says something like that? An odd proposition? Sirius even sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms, looking for all the world like a man about to eat him alive.
Which is, perhaps, why the next statement makes Remus head hurt, not just his joints.
“You can’t work here anymore, Remus.”
“Excuse me?”
Sirius’ grin drops just a bit, and then he settles into the chair next to Remus, hands out to placate him, which is fair. Remus can feel his face heating up. As much as he can talk about the reasons he could get fired, Remus knows he doesn't deserve to be.
Does the man want to get punched? Because as Sirius doesn’t elaborate further, Remus can feel his fist tightening, no matter how much it hurts to do so.
“Listen…" Sirius starts, slowly, "I think we both know how we feel about each other, yeah? And despite running this rubbish company, I can’t break the rules anymore than you can so, if we want to be together, which I very much do, then one of us needs to abandon ship. I’d quit, but I quite like the thought of taking care of you.”
An entirely new indignation lights up within Remus at the thought of being taken-care-of, but he then recalls the part where Sirius, out of what feels like nowhere, has admitted to wanting to be with him.
“Are you asking me to be your sugar baby?” Is what, unfortunately, leaves his mouth instead of a reasonable question that might hinge less on insane.
Sirius wobbles his palm.
“We don’t have to call it that. More like… I fear if I don’t give you the axe you’ll ignore me entirely,” Sirius explains, and Remus has never seen the man self-conscious before, “Which of course, you can tell me to fuck right off, and we’ll pretend this conversation never happened-”
“Sirius,” Remus interrupts, feeling a resolve settle in him that came entirely with his attraction being reciprocated, “Why don’t you take me on a date first? I mean, It’s not like it’s really dating until we’ve done more than one, then I can decide the rest, yeah?”
Grinning like a madman, Sirius gets up and clambors for the phone on his desk, his secretary picking up from outside the office.
“I need dinner reservations for two at that dairy-free place in Soho. No, I don’t care what you have to- thanks, Mary.”
Remus chuckles.
“How did you know I was lactose intolerant?”
Sirius shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets and looks for all the world like he’s a teenager kicking rocks.
“You never put milk in your tea, I've certainly never seen you bring anything other than soup for lunch, and you rarely eat the pastries I bring in unless it's the macarons with jelly filling.”
And Remus, for all his blustering about the quantity of dates and his pride that sits deep within him, knows this is going to be his last day at the company. So, why not kiss the boss and go out with a bang? Or, much, much later, one hell of a decent shag?
Minerva has a feeling about what this is about, but she’s enjoying the squirming happening in front of her nonetheless. Usually, neither Draco nor Harry are ever cowed by her presence these days. They’ve both grown up confident, yet argumentative, young men, and their individual relationship with her has evolved into friendly colleagues like the rest of the staff at Hogwarts.
“Professors… what is this about?”
Draco glances to Harry, and Harry, Merlin save him, stutters.
“Well- see, I wanted to- we, we wanted to know-”
“Salazar himself,” Draco huffs, and Minerva turns her gaze to him, Harry’s face bright red even out of the corner of her eye.
She may as well put them out of their misery.
“Is this about a request for joint quarters?”
Harry blinks, Draco remains impassive as Minerva enjoys their balking.
“It can be accomodated, of course. I thought you might have asked for the arrangements last term, frankly.”
Harry scratches the back of his neck. Draco looks put out while simultaneously having an air of someone who really would like to say I told you so.
“Was that all?”
Folding her hands over her desk and raising a brow at them, the young lads nod.
“The castle will sort it. The elves will make sure your things are in the new space to sort by the evening and for now, I suggest you start telling people. Not all of us are as perceptive as I am.”
She smirks, but no sooner than she’s done it has Draco begun to smirk as well.
“Can I tell Ronald?” He asks his partner and Minerva sighs as the two are off like the conversation never happened, bickering so much one might still assume they’re practically enemies.
mine - @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - word count: 262
Walburga may have been a bitch, but she was a fancy bitch. She held impossibly high standards and worried far too much about what other people thought, always making sure that her sons were dressed in the best clothing money could buy. While other boys their age were put in sensible clothing meant for growing teenagers, Sirius and Regulus often found themselves adorned in stupidly luxurious things–whether it be sterling silver jewelry with precious gems inlaid or underwear that cost more than most broomsticks.
Which is why, one morning when James decided to tidy up his area of the dorm a little, he recognized the brand of clothing in his hand immediately and knew it wasn’t his own.
“Pads, how does your stuff always end up over here?” he complained, throwing a soft, black jumper in his best friend’s direction.
Sirius, grumbling and still half-asleep, grabbed the jumper out of the air and stuffed it over his head. “Thanks, mate. Now I don’t have to search for one,” he muttered, smirking at Peter’s chuckle.
But he frowned when the jumper settled on his body, realizing that it absolutely did not fit.
“Wait…this isn’t…” Yanking it off his head, Sirius checked the size on the tag, his stomach flipping. “James, this isn’t mine.”
Still shoving things under his bed, James didn’t look up. “What’re you talking about? Whose else could it be?”
Then, after a split second, their eyes met, both of them realizing at the same time.
“Potter,” Sirius sighed, trying to decide if he was pissed or delighted.
Occasionally, I summon the power of real micro-fic.
Some short Jegulus to recover from all the long-form I've been writing recently!
168 words, Jegulus, James Potter/Regulus Black, fluff, dreams, allusions to sex
Sometimes, Regulus wakes up and his life feels like a dream. The dead of night prior, James had rolled over, half-asleep and warmer than fiendfyre, taking equally hot hands and placing them in tantalizing spots on Regulus’ body. It probably wasn’t even conscious, but Regulus had groaned nonetheless.
If he’d known it would fully wake James, well, he’d do it all over again, wouldn’t he?
Regulus can still feel the ache, their fretful, magic-assisted tryst echoing through the healing charms and the invasion of morning light.
“Alright, love?” A scratchy voice whispers behind him, and Regulus grins.
“I slept awfully.”
“Did you?” James asks, attempting to sound like he regrets that situation, but unfortunately, the dulcet tone and warm kisses along his shoulder aren’t indicative of remorse. “Wonder why?”
“Probably for the same reason I’m about to be tragically woken right now.”
James only chuckles, and while Regulus knows he’s had dreams just like this, nothing ever beats the reality of getting to wake up to it, too.
