sometimes you just have to make out with a hot guy at a party and if that hot guy happens to be your best friend's brother, well...
James watches with laser focus as Regulus’ tongue slips from between his lips. He has a half-done cigarette in his fine-boned fingers and licks a long stripe along the length of the rolling paper.
Regulus rolls it up with practiced ease, making James' eye twitch, and he passes the cigarette off to Barty.
“Thanks, baby boy,” Barty says as he pushes himself off the too-low couch across the room and wanders to the open window so he can lean outside to smoke.
He flicks open his mildly offensive lighter and James nearly wishes Barty would take a little tumble, but his horniness hasn’t quite shifted into homicidal tendencies so he takes a steadying breath and tells himself to fucking relax.
His eyes shift back to Regulus, who is rolling a new cigarette, presumably for Evan. James wishes he could zoom in, just to get a closer look at how nimbly Regulus spreads the tobacco in the rolling paper.
“You know, you could at least pretend to listen to me,” Sirius complains with a shove to James’ shoulder. His beer nearly sloshes out of the bottle with the sudden movement.
“Sorry. I was,” James says. “Listening, I mean. Not pretending to. I got… distracted.”
“What on earth could be more important than me right now?” Sirius questions, shifting in his seat and pressing his cheek against James’ so he can follow his line of sight. His skin is soft and warm and the familiar scent of amberwood fills James’ nostrils.
It doesn’t take long for Sirius to realize what James was zeroed in on. “No,” he gasps, falling back into his seat with a betrayed gasp.
“I’m just—” James starts, but Sirius’ withering look silences him with ease.
“Just what?”
“Just looking!”
“Look elsewhere! Literally anyone else, I beg of you.”
“Remus,” James says immediately, eyebrow raised in a challenge.
Sirius’ face falls minutely. “Okay, except for Remus.” His eyes shift off to the side, as if picturing something, and then he adds, “Although…”
“No,” James is quick to interrupt. He shoves Sirius’ face away for good measure, fingers damp with condensation from his glass beer bottle. “Nip that thought right in the bud.”
“Whose butt are we nipping?” Remus asks, because of course he chooses this very moment to reappear. He stands in front of them, hands on his hips and eyebrow cocked.
Sirius turns to face Remus, not unlike a flower to the sun or a moth to a flame.
“James is ogling my brother.” His tone is accusatory and petty, but his eyes are molten ice when he looks at Remus.
Remus leans in to press a quick kiss against Sirius’ waiting mouth and James also purses his lips in a mocking invitation, but Remus settles for flicking his forehead instead.
He surveys the seating arrangement and after a moment, he settles on the armrest of the couch. It’d be a tight fit with the three of them on there and the party is keeling on the wrong side of too hot. A smoky haze fills the room and the thumping bass makes the floor hum with every song.
“Ogling is a strong word,” James argues. “I think admiring is more accurate.”
“From a distance. A long, long distance. In fact,” Sirius says as he turns to face James again, “how about we move to another room?”
“Actually,” Remus says, “that’s precisely why I came here… Do you wanna…?” He lets the sentence trail off suggestively, fingers slipping into the ripped fabric of Sirius’ jeans. James watches as a barely-there shiver skitters its way up Sirius’ spine and his eyes flutter shut at the slight touch.
Sirius wastes no time shoving his full beer bottle into James’ hands while Remus gets up. Over Sirius’ shoulder, James mouths a silent thank you at Remus, who simply winks at him in return.
Sirius wiggles his fingers at Remus in a silent request to be pulled off the couch, but before they leave James to his thoughts, Sirius whirls on him again. “No funny business with my brother, okay?”
“None at all,” James swears as solemnly as he can. Hands full with Sirius’ discarded drink and his own, he settles for mentally crossing his fingers.
“All by your lonesome, Potter?” Regulus asks, dropping onto the couch with a quiet oof. James glances up just in time to see his best friends disappear around a corner.
His gaze settles on Regulus, on the dark shade of his shirt and how it brings out his eyes. And his collarbones.
James hums, not quite trusting his voice. He takes a sip of his beer for liquid courage and if it turns into more of a swig, well, who’s to say?
“Knocking ‘em back pretty fast, huh?”
“This one’s Sirius’. He disappeared with Remus to go do unspeakable things to each other’s bodies.”
“Might need to steal that from you just to get that image out of my head,” Regulus says, those nimble fingers James was eyeing earlier appearing in front of him and deftly plucking the bottle from James’ hand. “Thank you very much.”
“I do hate to suffer alone,” James says, tipping his own beer toward Regulus in a cheer.
“Can’t have that, can we?” And Regulus taps their bottles together.
The clink of the glass is drowned out by the loud music —something about releasing one’s inhibitions?— but James feels it down to his bones.
“Enjoying the party?” James asks, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He brings the bottle to his lips again just to keep more stupid words from tumbling out, letting them fall into the drink instead.
“Come on, Potter, your game has to be better than that,” Regulus says, head lolling on the back of the couch lazily. His hair tousles with the movement, careless waves of inky black spilling across his forehead.
“What do you mean?” James asks, hands tightening around his drink to keep from doing something insane like reaching out and fixing Regulus’ hair.
“Everyone knows you never leave a party alone. No way people fall for that line.”
“It’s not a line.”
“No?” Regulus asks, sitting up straight again. “You genuinely want to know if I’m enjoying the party?”
James hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
Regulus’ mouth, usually down-turned, tugs down even more. It would look like a pout if it weren’t for the fact that the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.
“You wanted me to use a line on you?” James asks.
This time, Regulus hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?
“This might surprise you, but I don’t need to use lines on people to get them to come home with me. Some people are into me, if you’ll believe it.”
Regulus’ face says that he does believe it. His mouth says, “Maybe you can give me some pointers on mine, then.”
James scoffs, turned on beyond belief and trying valiantly to drown it out. “Happy to.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
They’d inched together unknowingly until the space between them had shrunk to near-nonexistence. The world starts and ends in the breath between their faces, Regulus’ lips a focal point.
Instead of replying again, James catches Regulus’ mouth in a kiss, hot and heavy from the beginning. He blindly sets his drink aside and hopes that it doesn’t get knocked over. Then again, he has other things on his mind than potentially staining the carpet.
With both hands free, he is able to shift on the couch. One hand comes up to cradle the back of Regulus’ head while the other moves to his hip as if magnetic. He can’t help the thrill of excitement when he realizes his hand fits just right.
He faintly hears someone whoop but then Regulus’ hands shift from James’ back to the sides of his face. He gently knocks his glasses askew in the process, but that’s fine. James doesn’t need to be able to see to do this.
There is nothing else in the world but this. Them.
Eventually, Regulus’ hands end up in his hair, and he pulls James back with a mean fist.
“What?” James asks, punched out and breathless.
Regulus doesn’t say anything, just pushes James back against the couch and moves to straddle him. It takes James no time to get with the program, hands changing course to settle on Regulus’ thighs.
James isn’t sure how much time passes. All he’s sure of is the comforting weight of Regulus on his lap, the feel of Regulus’ tongue in his mouth, and the warmth of Regulus’ hands on his face.
The earth could explode and James is fairly sure he wouldn’t realize, too caught up in the heady path Regulus is tracking down the side of his neck.
A needy sound spills from his mouth, hands clenching on Regulus’ things, and Regulus is quick to meet him in another kiss.
“James!” Sirius’ voice filters into his ears from somewhere behind him a lifetime later and the sound of the party rushes back in pieces.
Music.
Chatter.
The crash of a vase toppling over.
“I told you, no funny business!” Sirius whines, reaching out to smack the back of James’ head, and James can’t help the way he bites into Regulus’ lip on impact.
With a disgruntled groan, Regulus pulls back. “We’re not laughing,” he says, lips pink and breath stolen.
Sirius’ reply is indignant, surely, but James can’t hear anything except for the sound of his heart thundering in his ears when Regulus leans in again to kiss him.
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Modern, Fluff, Dating, Light Angst, Regulus Black & Sirius Black Have a Good Relationship, Demisexual Regulus Black, Reflections on Sex & Sexuality, Teacher James Potter, it’s not super relevant to the plot but i wanted to mention it, well-meaning plant killer regulus black
He liked physical affection. He sought out hugs and casual touch. When he was upset, he became attached to his friends, almost as if he needed someone to ground him.
Usually, of course, he picked James Potter for this.
Remus tried not to be jealous. Sirius and James were close in a way he couldn’t even describe. They were brothers. But still, a part of him yearned to be the one Sirius reached for, when he needed that comfort.
So, one night, when the soft padding of feet warned him that Sirius was approaching, he was shocked. Sirius never chose to come to his bed.
He almost said something, but the stricken look on Sirius’s face- the way the tears fell down porcelain skin, silenced him. He just gestured for the shorter boy to join him. And, following his instincts, he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, protectively curling his body into his chest, breathing in his scent.
And, when Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus as well, pulling him so close that they were chest-to-chest, their legs tangled and their breaths mingling, Remus briefly wondered- did Sirius cuddle with James like this?
idk where but i read somewhere that if a Shakespeare play ends in a funeral it is a tragedy and if it ends in a wedding then it is a comedy. and then it went on to state that life never ends in a wedding and idk that kinda stuck with me. like we were predestined for a tragedy from the second we are born. we were never meant to escape this and you can laugh along and pretend ur story is going to finish in a white dress but its not. its going to finish in a coffin. this is why we are here. we are here to die.
am i the only one that gets anxiety like an egotistical french king? like no i don’t think all my friends hate me and that im worthless but i do think that they are all secretly out to get me and i cant trust anyone and idk what that says about me but its there so theres that.
James going for an eye exam/checkup and the optometrist is some new young guy who’s all stone-faced business, barely looking at him, flipping through paper work, “are you having any problems with your current glasses,” etc and James is just stumbling over his words practically drooling at this man and also flirting unashamedly with terribly cheesy lines. Something about “the eyes are the windows to the soul you know? see anything you like in mine?” and reg’s just like “well your vision sucks so they’re pretty shit windows if you ask me” and then he watches James’ pupils dilate cartoonishly in response and is like where did this man come from and why does he clearly have a degradation kink of some sort. And then he does the thing where he makes James look at him while he moves his finger back and forth to test his peripheral vision or whatever but James keeps accidentally following his hand instead of looking straight ahead because he’s getting distracted by all the rings and picturing how they’d feel on him and and Regulus is like “please for the love of god just look at me” and James is like “oh I’ve been” and then he finally averts his attention from his hands but now he’s just staring into his eyes, jaw slack, down bad and regulus is like “okay can you see my finger still. Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter are you listening to me.” and James is just mumbling “oh I’m listening baby I’m all ears” and it’s the longest fucking checkup regulus has ever had to give but he secretly doesn’t actually mind at all
“i’m going to marry you someday,” james says, running his fingers through regulus’s curls. regulus smiles, his ear pressed to james’s heart.
“yeah?” he asks. “when?”
“as soon as you graduate.” james’s heartbeat stays steady, like this is a regular conversation on a regular night.
“yeah?” regulus asks, glancing up, meeting james’s eyes. his eyes are gray like a storm, and they’re so, so beautiful. “how?”
james smiles. “in the fields behind my parents’ house,” he says. “in summer. we’ll have everybody there — sirius and moony and peter and the girls, and all your friends, too. it’ll be perfect.”
regulus settles his head on james’s chest again. “you have this all planned out, don’t you?” he asks. james stares up at the sky, searching and finally locating regulus’s star. his star.
“of course i do,” he says. i love you, he almost says, but he leaves that for another night.
~
“i’m going to marry you someday,” james says, pulling regulus closer. his laugh lights up james’s world.
“tell me about it,” regulus says, intertwining their fingers.
“we’ll dance like this,” james says, placing his hand on regulus’s waist. “all night. with everybody, all our friends. and we won’t get tired.”
regulus laughs again. his eyes are closed, and he’s pressed his cheek to james’s chest. “how will we manage that?” he asks.
james thinks for a moment, still swaying them back and forth across the floor of the astronomy tower. he’s never been good at multitasking.
“potions,” james decides. “and firewhiskey, probably.”
“mm,” regulus hums. “i won’t drink any.”
“no?”
“no.” he pulls back, opening his eyes, and smiles up at james, gray eyes twinkling. “i want to remember every second of it.”
~
“i’m going to marry you someday,” james whispers, trying to ignore the way his voice cracks. “and then i’ll get you out of here.”
regulus gives him a weak smile and scoots closer, turning around and pressing his back to james’s chest.
“tell me where we’ll go,” he says quietly. “when we run away.”
james swallows thickly, glances down at the mark on regulus’s forearm.
“away,” he says. “where they can’t hurt us.”
where i’m free, he doesn’t say, from you.
~
“i wish i was a coward,” james says, his eyes fixed on the sky. on that star — not his, after all. he looks away, but it doesn’t matter. tears cloud his vision. “i wish i didn’t have to run away from you.”
there’s no response. he’s not surprised. there’s nothing for the headstone to say anyway. james bites back a sob, wiping the tears away just in time for more to appear.
“i wish i didn’t have to run away,” he says, setting the ring down in the grass, “but i’m not sorry i left.”
@wolfstarmicrofic March 30 – prompt 30: Calming Draught – word count 960
TW // perceived homophobia
Remus Lupin is furious. He came out to his friends a week ago—something that made him so horrendously nervous that he literally had to take a calming draught beforehand. And now the person he was most scared to tell is reacting like this?
“Moony, wait!” Sirius yells from behind, his desperation audible. Remus doesn’t slow. “Just—wait a minute, please.” His voice breaks on the last syllable.
Remus scoffs. Without turning around he replies scathingly, “I actually kind of don’t want to fucking talk to you right now.”
Which is completely fair, Remus thinks. Because having your best friend completely freak out when you tell them you’re gay is not a great feeling. Especially when you have a hopeless, horrible crush on said best friend, which made you all the more nervous to tell him. Especially when you felt an excruciating mix of anxiety, hope, and crippling fear, and spent a fair amount of time coming up with all the possible scenarios that could result from the whole thing. But he hadn’t been prepared for this outcome. The one where Sirius didn’t overreact—no, that might have even been preferable—but the one where he turned cold and cagey, completely avoiding him for a week. Until today, when he couldn’t escape being in Remus’ presence.
Today, when Marlene gathered them all around to announce that she’s a lesbian. And Remus is so, so happy for her. Of course he is. So incredibly happy, in fact, his cheeks ached from smiling when she told them. A smile that rapidly slipped off his face when Sirius, the man who had handled the news of his best friend being gay extraordinarily horribly, accepted and even celebrated Marlene’s announcement. Which of course he should have! It just—hurts, that he for some reason couldn’t handle Remus’ own announcement with even a fraction of that enthusiasm. Hurts, to have his best friend and crush, for fuck’s sake, react so overwhelmingly positive to someone else’s coming out and so negatively to his own.
So no, he’s not feeling particularly warm towards Sirius, and really fucking wants to be alone. Something that Sirius really does not seem to understand.
“Just—stop!” Sirius, having finally caught up to him, desperately grabs him by the arm and forcibly turns him around.
Remus violently jerks an arm to throw him off. “Sirius, what the actual fuck?!”
The other boy immediately lets go. The determined light in his eyes, however, doesn’t fade. “Please, give me a chance, okay? Just to talk to you?”
“I already did talk to you, and you quite frankly didn’t handle it very well. So excuse me if I don’t necessarily feel like giving you the time of day right now,” Remus snaps.
“No, I know, I just—“ He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Remus really hates himself for noticing how cute he looks as he does it. Hates himself for how his stomach swoops when Sirius grabs him by the arm again. Hates himself for how he follows Sirius’ insistent tugging as the other boy pulls him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.
“I know, okay! I fucking know. Just-” He sighs. Opens his mouth, then closes it. Clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sorry, Moony. I really am. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s like I know up here,” he says, tapping his head “that’s it’s completely fine to be gay and that’s it completely fine for you to be gay, and that logically I’m completely fine with it because there’s nothing wrong with it! But then it’s like—like I try to picture you with some random guy that doesn’t even know you, and I feel sick, Remus, physically sick to my stomach.” Sirius earnestly meets Remus’ eyes, as if he’s silently begging him to understand.
But in front of him, Remus is quiet.
Sirius groans and grabs his shoulders with a frightening urgency that actually makes Remus jump. “Moony, don’t let it be some bloke. He—he has to know you, yeah?”
“Er-”
Sirius shakes his head and grits his teeth. “No, you’re not getting it—he has to know you. He has to know that you like chocolate, and he has to get you chocolate every week to restore your stash. But he can’t ever get anything darker than 70%, because he has to know what kinds of chocolate you like. And-“
“Sirius?”
“-and he has to know that you’re a fucking genius, that you come up with all of our best pranks, and he has to know that you like to curse, and he has to like it when you curse, okay? But he has to pretend that he doesn’t.”
“Sirius.”
“And—and he has to get you extra food whenever you’re hungry, especially before full moons, and he has to keep getting you food even after full moons, when you say you’re not hungry, but he has to know that you have to eat anyway.” Sirius’ grip on Remus’ shoulders is painfully tight now, his gaze imploring. “He has to know that you put on your socks before your pants in the morning, and that you wet your toothbrush before putting the toothpaste on it, and that you secretly like Quidditch because sometimes he’ll catch you watching him from the stands instead of reading your book, and… and he has to know all of your favorite authors, he has to notice all of the little expressions you make when you’re reading, and he has to think of you whenever he sees a book that he thinks you might like.”
“Sirius!”
“I’m not done yet, Moony!” he snaps, rather viciously. His voice then gets quiet.
“He has to love you.” He’s whispering now. “He has to have always loved you.”
i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.
Time Is A Mother, Ocean Vuong // The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky // The Cow, Ariana Reines // Ask Polly, Heather Havrilesky // October, Mary Oliver // Dead Stars, Ada Limón // Night Walk, Franz Wright// Xenotransplantation, Sam Sax // Angels In America, Tony Kushner // Take Me With You, Andrea Gibson
guys please tell me im not the only one who likes being sad. i know it sounds crazy but i like the wya that being sad expands my mind and ability to produce writing full of feeling. it makes me feel like a poet- like im worth something more than just a mindless existence. i like feeling sad because it makes me feel and it makes me think and im so tired of being numb so id rather feel sad than feel nothing at all.
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