#taylorswiftmicrofic

[onehundredflamingos]

13 / head | scarf / 447 words

@stag-microfic | @taylorswiftmicrofic

“I wish you’d stop wearing my brother’s clothes,” Sirius said with a scowl, nodding at the Slytherin scarf wrapped around James’ neck. “Green isn’t your color.”

“Every color is his color,” Regulus argued, suddenly standing beside James.

James had slept over in Regulus’ dorm room the night before; he had gotten ready there before breakfast, and wasn’t expecting to see Regulus again until after their school days were over. “Although I am partial to him putting my clothes on instead of his own after we fu—”

“That’s—“ Sirius cleared his throat, quickly drowning out the rest of Regulus’ sentence with his own sound of disgust. He turned away, muttering quietly to himself, “I hate this.”

“Are you trying to give him a heart attack?” James asked with a laugh, turning away from his best friend’s retreating back and looking down at his boyfriend.

“Me?” Regulus asked indignantly, feigning offense. “You’re the one who grabbed my scarf this morning.”

“It smells like you,” James replied, almost petulantly. The words were confident, but he could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.

Regulus smiled up at him, a soft, knowing thing that was reserved only for James, before grabbing each end of the offending scarf in each of his fists. He tugged roughly, yanking James’ head down until their lips were a mere hairsbreadth apart.

“Meet me in my dorm at lunch and you can earn it back,” Regulus said suggestively, before pulling James into a deep kiss. There was the distant, unmistakable sound of Sirius choking on his pumpkin juice behind them, but James could hardly hear it, all of his senses honing in on the feel of Regulus’ tongue against his own. His focus was solely on the promise of what was to come. “But right now I need it back, or I won’t hear the end of it from Slughorn.”

James whined as they broke apart, but he let Regulus pull the fabric from around his neck, and watched as Regulus turned to walk away with nothing more than a wink.

“Stop staring at my little brother,” Sirius said, walking back up to James and smacking him in the back of the head. “We’re going to be late for transfiguration.”

“But he’s so p—”

“If I have to hear you tell me that he’s pretty one more time, I’m gonna hit you again.”

James huffed out a laugh, but obediently followed Sirius to class in silence anyway.

He spent the rest of the morning keeping his thoughts to himself, the ones of a pretty pale body writhing beneath his touch, of pretty pink lips and pretty grey eyes.

Lunch didn’t come nearly fast enough.

[my-castles-crumbling]

football - jegulus microfic - september 1 - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 222

Self-consciously, Regulus pulled at the large jersey on his body, looking around the crowd as he walked to the front of the stands.

He'd never been to a football game before. Never in his life had he been interested in any sort of sports. But the moment James had kissed him softly, pressing him against the door of his car, and handed him the red-and-gold shirt with 'Potter' emblazoned on the back, he'd quite forgotten how to think.

"Wear it? Watch me play tomorrow?" James had asked, looking down at him with hope shining in his eyes.

And all he could do was nod mutely, trying not to melt.

So now here he was, at a fucking football game, sitting in the stands uncomfortably.

At first, he regretted coming. Though he dragged Barty along and his friend seemed to be completely at ease, Regulus was nervous. This was not his scene, and he didn't understand anything about what was happening.

But the moment James's name was announced, his heart leapt to his throat and he began to clap loudly, doing his best not to cheer like an idiot. And when the older boy turned, seemingly scanning the crowd for something, and his eyes locked with Regulus's, he pointed at him with a grin.

And suddenly, Regulus was quite excited to be there.

[fics-teddys-version]

Prompt: Humour - Deltarune - @taylorswiftmicrofic - 183 words

Kris was sniffling, hiding under the throw blanket on the couch they squeezed their eyes shut. Asriel was out with Dess again, and they could hear Asgore and Toriel arguing from their room.

It had been going on for about an hour now, and Kris' eyes hurt from crying. Asriel wouldn't be home for awhile, and they were so—scared.

"Oh, Kris, why are you crying?"

Kris looked up, safely back in the imaginary land in their head, and ran to Mr. Tenna, crashing into him.

"Mom and Dad are fighting again." They sniffled as Tenna wrapped them up in a hug.

"I'm sorry, Kris." He sighed, standing with the seven year old in his arms. "All couples fight sometimes, though. It's natural, I promise."

Kris wiped their nose on their sleeve. "Not as much as my parents do."

Tenna frowned. "Hey, how about instead, we watch those cartoons you love? They're funny and make you laugh, don't they?"

Rubbing their eyes, Kris nodded, and Tenna played all their favorite cartoons until it felt safe to go back to the real world again.

[hoppsanwrites]

words - july 23 - tomarry - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 180

Over the course of their extensive tests and invasive questioning, the Unspeakables used progressively disheartening words to describe his situation.

Some annoying, masochistic part of Harry’s brain kept diligent track, kicking and screaming against the current carrying him toward the inevitable conclusion, hurtling over the cliff’s edge.

Fascinating, became unheard of, became worrisome, became risky, until the pièce de résistance which coaxed his magic forth, lashing out in fear, in rage, in desperation.

Irreversible.

A year. Not even that. And then… something. Or nothing. They couldn’t say for sure, could only offer sympathetic looks and meaningless platitudes about enjoying the time he had left, pretending the noose around his neck wasn’t a death sentence.

The Potters took him home, let him keep their shared last name, and did their best to cheer him up. Spoke of family and Hogwarts and everything that had once offered a glimmer of warmth, had once been worth fighting for.

Harry eventually began to listen.

All because Graham had let slip the names of the new Head Girl and Boy.

Niamh Campbell.

And Tom Riddle.

[regulily--heresy]

Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr Prompt: may - day seven (summer) Word Count: 906 Cross-posted on: ao3

‘I want to write to you over the summer,’ Regulus stated, quite out of the blue, one late June afternoon.

Lily leaned backwards, tilting her head as she did so, in order to look at him. Before she did so, she blinked. From where she sat on the grass in the cool shadow of the castle, propped up on her arms, he wasn’t particularly far away. She could see an uncharacteristically nervous and apprehensive look in his eyes, as if he was very much second-guessing his own words.

The grounds weren’t particularly quiet, what with the screaming of first- and second-years and the chatting of old and established friend groups, but in that moment, there was a lull in the activity. She could hear something like a deep thud pounding in her own ears.

‘Alright,’ she said, not quite sure why she was agreeing: after all, what she and Regulus Black had really wasn’t anything to put a name to, nor had it been going on very long. ‘Sure, sounds good.’

His chest didn’t fall enough for her to determine whether he had let out a sigh of relief or not – even though she had come to know that his gestures seemed to be quite subtle unless you knew what you were looking for – but it did shift somewhat and his lips quirked into something weak and smile-like.

‘How often do you want me to write?’ he asked, and she could hear that his voice was different, more sure of itself and more back to normal, than it had been moments ago. ‘I could write a letter each week?’

Lily pondered his suggestion, uncertain. She didn’t look away from Regulus, per say, but her gaze was taken up by a particularly interesting piece of masonry. His suggestion seemed more forward than she had expected it to be; before they had first talked, the younger Black brother had had a bit of an icy reputation. Whether she thought any of it was true or not, she still couldn’t quite determine.

She tried to occupy her mind with summer, and she thought about how long and busy she liked her days to be during the holidays; with ice creams and arcades and long walks down promenades, and with blackberries and nettle-stings and climbing up towards a tree’s leaves, too.

‘How about every fortnight?’ she offered, ‘That way we won’t have to worry about running behind on sending a letter off.’

‘Six letters?’ he asked, frowning and squinting and fixing her with his gaze. ‘Three from you and three from me?’

He sounded slightly deflated in a way that made Lily herself want to question him, if only to stop the strange feeling that had begun to boil within her chest. Were his school holidays really that unexciting?

She remembered that he lived in London, and nothing more than confusion wormed its way into her brain. His city was the heartline and lifeblood of Britain; surely, he spent all the time he had away from Hogwarts in days filled with adventure and variety? For her, a girl who had grown up in a grubby, little mining town on the outskirts of an equally as dreary and lifeless city that she sometimes took the bus too, it seemed so alien and – frankly – utterly boring that living in the capital could be so mundane and uninteresting. It was one of those things about Regulus that made her unsure about how she felt regarding him.

Before she could speak, another remembrance entered her mind: his parents were quite strict and secluding, weren’t they? He might never have really gotten the chance to get out of his stuffy, old house and into the city. She started to feel more than a little sympathetic toward him.

Perhaps if she and Regulus remained what they were now – or became something more – at the end of next school year, than she might save up enough Muggle money to take a train down to London, or she might be able to convince him to come up to see her in Cokeworth. He seemed to like her and doing things with her enough to say yes; perhaps she could weave the tapestry of his summers into something much more fascinating and enjoyable?

‘It would give the other one time to write,’ she pointed out, trying to speak sweetly, ‘But, how about we try to send an extra letter every other week? One of us could write at the start of the week, the other during the midweek, and then the one who started it off could write a second later at the weekend? After that, we can switch. Just to get in contact with each other a little more often?’

From the way his eyes drifted skyward, she could tell that he was considering her new proposal with curiosity and renewed, albeit shrouded from most, interest.

‘Sounds agreeable,’ he told her after a little while.

‘Great,’ Lily answered, and smiled, already thinking about the clippings and photographs she wanted to send Regulus, and how much fun she could add to his life if this all went well.

From the way his lips curved and there was something wistful shining in his eyes, she suspected that his thoughts had begun to walk down a very, very similar path. And, from the way she felt her cheeks heat up a little, she very much hoped that her intuition rang true.

[sidelit]

Prompt: sink | @taylorswiftmicrofic | WC: 325 | Quirrellhart

Summary: Quirrell writes what he feels, then decides it can't exist.

Dear Gilderoy,

If I do not write this, it will take me by the throat.

My feelings for you are easiest to bear when I reduce you to ink, but you are not so easily reduced.

It's 01:11 and I can see the moon through our window.

I've never written to anyone before whilst watching them sleep, but here I find myself.

Today, you drew your wand behind my back, ready to use a Memory Charm on me.

You used one on the old woman, right before my eyes, and you didn't trust me enough to tell me ahead of time. Which I understand. I wouldn’t trust me either. Nevertheless, I will think about it for a long time. How much can I trust you?

You look so very peaceful in your sleep. No lines on your face, body relaxed completely; unmarred and untroubled. Tomorrow will be another day on the beach, another drink on the hotel rooftop.

Sometimes, I think if you were to bleed, pure sunlight would pour from the wound. Over time, I have learnt the shape of that light, but now I'm not sure it's safe to stand in it.

It's ironic that I wrote this to lessen my misgivings, but they did not lessen. Yet in a few short minutes, I will crawl into bed beside you and hope to sink into a dreamless sleep.

With you, I stopped having so many nightmares. But tonight I fear my dreams will show what my eyes have refused to see.

Yet I find I love you anyway, curse though that may turn out to be.

I remain,

Quirinus

Quirrell straightened and the wooden chair creaked. He brandished his wand at the paper and in a pop of light, transfigured the note into a cheerful yellow tulip.

He rose with a sigh and climbed into bed. Pressing into the warmth of Lockhart's side, Quirrell waited for sleep to take him.

[moonyisnotonfire]

Prompt: Hundred - Undertale- @taylorswiftmicrofic - 292 Words - CW for body horror I think?

Chara sighed, twirling the knife around in their hand. "This is getting a bit boring, y'know? We've destroyed like ten timelines by now. All the screams, the pleading… it's just… dull now."

They stood, kicking the floor in frustration. "This isn't fun anymore. I hate this. Why is nothing fun anymore?"

They slumped to the floor beside Frisk, talking with their hands, knife waving wildly. "At least when I had a family, I got a pie and a brother to play with. I don't have to play pretend now. I can make reality whatever I want."

Chara threw the knife down with a clatter. "It's no fun anymore!"

Clambering back to their feet, they paced. "I could try killing them in a new order. That would be entertaining, maybe? Or torture them. I think we've been too easy, just killing them off like that. Especially that stupid skeleton."

They finally stopped and slumped. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I want something to be new and fun again, like it used to be. I don't feel anything anymore. Nothing makes me feel anymore."

Chara snatched up the knife and pointed it at Frisk. "You could at least talk back. You're so mundane. I guess that's my fault too, huh?"

The husk on the floor was nothing more than decaying human remains, eyes staring up blankly, a shiny red soul blinking weakly from within. Flies circled every time they entered a new world, and the monsters started staring with horror instead of greeting them openly like they'd done before. Chara was certain that by now they were literally just held together by pure determination—and the fact that their LV was 100.

"Well, thanks for listening, I guess. Time for a new world."

[onehundredfoxess]

18 / glitter / 425 words

@taylorswiftmicrofic

Neil had a feeling Andrew would be irritated with him — for allowing his cousin to help him get ready, for taking so long to get ready at all, but it had been so long since they’d last gone to Eden’s, and Neil had actually been excited when Nicky offered up his make-up collection to him.

Too many exy balls to the head, maybe, but he still hoped that Andrew would like it.

Nicky swiped some glitter over Neil’s eyelids and down along his cheekbones before stepping back and taking an appraising look. He let out a small squeal of delight before zipping up his make up bag.

“If I didn’t think Andrew would kill me for saying so, I’d say that you look really hot with all that eyeliner on,” Nicky said with a grin.

“Nicky,” Neil chastised, shaking his head. He didn’t care when Nicky hit on him like that, and knew it was harmless, but he was still aware it had the potential to cause a rift in the group if Andrew ever overheard. Neil didn’t want to deal with that right before a night out.

“What?” Nicky asked, rhetorically. “I’d be surprised if Andrew doesn’t try to fuck you right there at the club.”

Neil choked on his own saliva. “Let’s go.”

When Nicky and Neil made their way down to the Maserati, Andrew barely spared them a glance before he was impatiently shifting gears and tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. He dropped everyone at the curb in front of Eden’s Twilight before driving off with his valet ticket to find a parking spot.

It wasn’t until Neil was standing at the bar counter waiting for Roland to pour their drinks that Andrew showed any indication that he had seen Neil’s new look for the evening.

“Glitter, Neil?” Andrew asked from behind Neil. Andrew had one arm on either side of him, hands braced against the bar top. “You look ridiculous.”

Neil nearly grinned at the rough timbre of Andrew’s voice, at the hitch just before the word ‘ridiculous.’ Neil wanted to press back against Andrew, wanted to see what Andrew really thought of his eyeliner and fitted jeans.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked, glancing back at Andrew. Andrew’s gaze fell to Neil’s lips before moving back up to his eyes. He leaned forward, pressing his erection against Neil’s ass before whispering into his ear.

“Yes.” Andrew grabbed Neil by the wrist and dragged him to the bathroom where he promptly fell to his knees.

Turned out, Nicky was right after all.