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#started as a microfic ended up here
mkaugust · 1 year
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I don’t know how to say that I’m jealous of you 
like I’m jealous of the ground,
soaking up water during a sunshower; 
jealous of you 
like I’m jealous of the sky, 
lit up golden just before a sunset; 
jealous of you 
like I’m jealous of rushing rivers, 
leaving their mark on everything in their wake without even trying.  
.
I don’t know how to say that all I want is for 
your light to shine on me, 
your rain to soak my body, 
your imprint on me while I’m swept up in you.  
.
I don’t know how to say that it hurts to watch when 
everyday 
you’re giving it out freely 
to everyone but me 
and I’m left standing in the dark, 
hidden in your shadow. 
.
I don’t know how to say that I’m jealous of you, 
jealous of everyone around you, 
because I don’t know how to say that 
I love you 
and all I want is for 
you to love me too.
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imdamagecontrol · 3 months
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stripper baby au. 2,904 words. nsfw.
parts: one, two, three, four. this was meant to be part of the microfic prompts, but it got away from me (oops), and i decided to let it exist on its own. it's the last part that will see tumblr, so i hope you enjoy. it's definitely a bigger snippet, but i won't apologize anymore lol. all five parts will be combined into a 'coming soon' surprise. enjoy <3
The club is packed, but that’s no surprise. It’s a Saturday night, just after eleven, and for the next few hours at least, there will be a nonstop rotation of men at the bar, on the couches, in private rooms. Regulus leans his elbows on the bartop behind him, a glass dangling from his fingers. He’s on break, shouldn’t be drinking, but it pays to be the bartender’s best friend.
He won’t admit he’s waiting for James. He knows better than to get his hopes up. It’s his first night working since their dates. He’s been dancing on and off for two hours, and there’s a part of him that can’t help but wonder if, now that James has him, he’ll stop showing up at the club.
Regulus isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.
With a sigh, he twists around to set his now empty glass on the bar. “One more,” he calls to Evan.
“You’re lucky Riddle isn’t here tonight to be on my ass.” Evan snatches Regulus’ glass and a bottle of vodka from under the counter. “You know you’re not supposed to drink on the clock.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” When Evan slides the finished cocktail across the counter, Regulus adds in a sing-song, “Tha-a-ank you.”
Evan rolls his eyes and heads to the opposite end of the bar, his attention on a man waving bank notes in the air with the vigor of someone who’s experiencing a strip club for the first time. They’re easy to spot: wide-eyed, flushed, a little nervous. The I shouldn’t be here, but here I am types. Regulus watches this one, lips wrapped around a thin black straw and teeth clenched tight to slow the flow of his cocktail as he drinks.
This one’s young. Younger than Regulus, even. In his early twenties with disheveled hair and a bit of a dopey look to him. When he catches Regulus watching him from across the bar, he blushes clear to the tips of his ears. They jut out, a sign he might’ve played rugby for most of his youth.
Regulus lets his gaze linger as the man risks a second glance. His cheeks go ruddy when Regulus opts for a sultry, crooked grin, the straw still held between his teeth. It’s obvious he’s not a customer—the black silk slip tied around his waist might cover the skin underneath, but his legs are long and slender, entirely bare tonight. Even with the Docs on his feet, laces loose and undone, it’s clear this is not a place he visits casually.
He’ll give this one credit—he squares his shoulders, grabs his drink, and heads right for where Regulus leans on the bar. His drink is half-finished, a pleasant combination of bitter and sweet. He should savor it; Evan won’t give him another, and he still has five minutes left of his break.
“Hi,” says Mr. Rugby, setting his drink on the bar and sidling up beside Regulus. He’s tall and broad, all shoulders and no waist. “What’s your name?”
“Lame. Try again.” Regulus crosses his ankles, knocks the toe of his boot against his heel. “Don’t make eyes from across the bar if that’s going to be your opener.”
Mr. Rugby blinks a few times, clearly taken aback. “I—Okay. Can I start over?”
“You can. But you only have until I finish my drink.”
“Shit. Okay. My name is Jeff. I, uh, I saw you from across the bar and you’re… Well, you’re fucking stunning, I won’t lie.” Mr. Rugby—Jeff—rubs at the back of his neck. “You work here, right? Kinda got that vibe…”
“Better. Less fumbling next time, though.” Regulus sets his glass on the counter. There’s a little left, but he has time. Jeff—God, the name is too close for his liking—seems the type to cough up his whole paycheck if Regulus plays his cards right. “It truly pains me to say this, but my real name is a secret.”
“Is there something else I can call you?”
Regulus ducks his chin. Looks up from underneath his lashes. “Ophidian.”
“Oh. That’s unique.”
With practiced shyness, he shifts the hem of the black silk slip to expose the snake winding round and round his left thigh. He could laugh when the man’s eyes drop right to it, gaze gone hungry in less time than even he anticipated. “Of and resembling serpents,” he offers, dropping the slip back into place.
“How much?”
The question sours Regulus’ mood immediately. Even though it’s his job, even though it’s the entire reason he made eyes at Mr. Rugby in the first place, the lack of tact, the audacity and bluntness of the question, make it difficult to hide the way his lip longs to curl with distaste. Have a little respect, he wants to snap. I’m not an object on a shelf for you to purchase.
Except he is.
Regulus reaches for his drink. Opens his mouth to say, I’m not for sale—yet, but the words shrivel on his tongue when another voice offers from behind him, “Sorry, mate, but I don’t think you can afford him.”
Not his fault you pay thousands for thirty minutes, Regulus wants to volley back. He reaches for his drink instead. James is dangerously close. Close enough his fingers can dance their way under the hem of Regulus’ slip; they’re featherlight touches on the outside of his right thigh. Hidden touches.
Mr. Rugby frowns. “I’ve got enough. They said a private dance is—”
“Price change, unfortunately. I think the going rate is… What is it now, love?”
“Five thousand,” Regulus deadpans, tossing the straw over the bar and knocking back the rest of his drink in one swallow.
“Five th—The fuck?”
“Bummer, innit?” James’ tone is anything but empathetic. “I’d recommend you try the main floor. You’ll have better luck there.”
For a moment, Mr. Rugby seems tempted to argue. But a glance at the floor, at the field of less expensive options available to him, sends him scurrying down the short staircase nearby.
Regulus leans over the bar to set his glass on the counter. At the feel of James’ hand on the back of his now exposed thigh, he spins and hisses, “No touching. You’ll get me in trouble. You know the rules.”
“Sorry, sorry.” James grins down at him, both hands held up in surrender. “I just missed you. And I have questions about what you’ve got on underneath this.” He tugs at the hem of Regulus’ sleeve. It falls to his elbows, loose and billowing at the ends. “Are you off break?”
“Maybe.”
“Love, don’t play. I saw leather straps. Are you working?”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Follow me.”
“Anywhere.”
James lets Regulus lead him through the packed club. They slip around couches and stages, heading for the back room. Regulus catches sight of Barty, who’s sizing up Mr. Rugby with a modicum of interest. It’s a misconception, he’s found, amongst most customers: strippers aren’t desperate. Not here, anyway. They’re shopping as much as their clients. Big fish are better—less time on the floor, more money in their pockets.
It’s the reason so many dancers threw themselves at James. Expensive pours off of him in waves. There’s a different energy, a confidence that comes from a life of lavishness. Of black tie events and annual galas and charity balls. Of ending requests with periods, not question marks.
The private rooms are even darker than the low-lit club. Regulus toes off his boots once they’re inside and sets them near the door. “Sit,” he tells James, nodding to the curved, plush couch that wraps around half of the small room. In front of it is a thick metal pole on a half-stage, but it’s irrelevant. Regulus knows what James prefers when they’re alone.
James collapses on the couch, arms stretched over the back and legs crossed. “How’s your night?”
“Boring. I’m working until two.”
“Not a long one, then.”
Regulus shakes his head. He fiddles with the stereo system, scrolling through songs. Longer is better; something he can loop so it feels endless. “Started at nine. There are a lot of us tonight and it’s busy. I’ll make enough to take the week off.”
“Classes start up this week don’t they?”
He hates that James remembers. Hates that James knows him enough to make small talk. To check in on his life like this. You’re meant to be a client, he wants to say. My fucking sugar daddy, for hell’s sake. He can all but see James blurring the lines with the toe of his fine Oxfords. “Yeah. On Monday.”
“If you need anything, you’ll tell me, right?” James’ foot bounces, restless. “I mean it, Regulus. Don’t overwork yourself if you’re worried about money. Just ask.”
“I’m fine. I make enough.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Regulus inhales a steadying breath. “I’ll tell you.” He finds a song, presses play. It’s a slow, steady thrum. Something soft until the true beat begins. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back. He thinks of the thrill of a win, of dangling what he knows James wants most right in front of him.
He drops his head back, eyes closed, a small smile on his lips. The music washes over him, beats a rhythm in his veins until his blood seems to settle with it. He’s good at his job for a reason. With steady fingers, he tugs at the knot around his waist. His back is still to James, so he lets the slip fall from one shoulder, then the other. There’s a tattoo down his spine: the sun, then a line of planets and stars.
“You’re teasing, love.”
Regulus turns to watch James over his shoulder. “Am I?”
“What’s underneath? I swear I saw leather.” James uncrosses his legs. Leans forward, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled under his chin. “It’s new, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
James’ grin is as mischievous as Regulus’. “Come here, baby. I’ve missed you.”
Regulus keeps the slip wrapped around his lower half. “No talking. No touching. You know the rules, James.”
The press of lips tight together, a finger drawn across, pantomime of a key turning in a lock. James drops back against the couch with his arms and legs spread, an open invitation. When they’re alone, he prefers Regulus on him, not in front of him. Doesn’t care for what he can do on a pole when he’d rather see him up close.
Regulus stands between James’ knees and lets the slip fall to the floor in a pool of black silk.
“Oh, fuck,” James breathes, his grin positively feral. “That is—”
“What did I say about talking?”
James groans with all the finesse of a toddler who’s just been told to get his hands out of the cookie jar. Menace, he mouths, still smiling.
It’s a showstopper akin to a harness-like garter belt, with criss-crossing pieces around his waist brought together by gold metal hoops. It’s like pieces of a collar strung together in a complex pattern; its removal will take focused deciphering, but it’s worth it for the look James wears. The ensemble is complete with double straps around his thighs, more gold hoops, and long straps to connect the pieces. Underneath, the G-string is black lace but opaque, and it’s a damn feat to keep himself steady with the way James watches him.
“Je-e-esus Christ,” he murmurs when Regulus straddles him, hands sliding up his chest to tug at his tie. “Yeah, guy at the bar didn’t deserve this for a second.”
“You’re talking, James.”
“You—I—” He huffs a strangled laugh. “Baby, I can’t help it. This is—You look incredible.”
It doesn’t take long for Regulus to find his rhythm. He sets a pace that follows the beat but allows him to change his moves, keep it interesting. He watches James watch him, black pupils swallowing hazel irises until there’s nothing but a thin ring around the edges. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees James’ fingers twitch. His hands fist, unfurl, fist again.
Got you, Regulus thinks, careful to hide his grin when he leans forward to mouth at the curve of James’ ear.
He miscalculated the other day when they were in the limo. He hadn’t considered that James is used to him in his lap. This has been their routine long enough that a fully-clothed Regulus wouldn’t tip the scales.
But now?
Regulus shifts in James’ lap to straddle one thigh. It’s solid underneath him, exactly as he’s imagined a hundred times the last few days. He lets himself imagine it all now—thoughts of James’ hands, his mouth, his tongue, the considerable length and girth of him. Thoughts he’s supressed since his shift started in case he found himself half-hard in the middle of a lap dance with a customer.
James’ eyes narrow slightly, but he stays quiet. Watches with one brow raised when Regulus’ hand wraps around his throat just under his jaw. “Love,” he says, a low warning. “What are you—?”
The drag of his rapidly filling cock against James’ trousers, the lace fabric—it’s a lot, considering he’s kept it all locked away for the last few hours. Regulus whimpers; he can’t help it. The fingers around James’ throat tighten, a subtle squeeze, and he feels the vibration of James’ moan against his palm. With a look that says careful, Regulus takes James’ hand and sets it on his thigh.
James’ eyes widen at this; Regulus has never let him touch with his hands during a private dance. He opens his mouth, but Regulus shakes his head. Wordlessly, he wraps James’ fingers around the leather straps of the garter. All the while, the dance continues—or at least, some semblance of it.
He shivers when James uses his grip on the straps to tug Regulus closer, to make it so each roll of his hips makes good use of James’ thigh. He thinks of the limo, of you can use me, if you want, and watches James’ gaze slip into a sort of hunger that’s insatiable. It can’t be satisfied with what Regulus is giving him.
Which is one hell of a show, but not the whole package.
He bears down, grinding his cock over James’ thigh. Moans low and filthy in James’ ear, breath blowing hot through the strands of his hair. Hears a strangled fucking hell said on a blown out breath. James’ fingers tighten around the straps, coaxing Regulus into a faster rhythm. But he’s determined to stay with the music, to ride James’ thigh on his terms this time.
He’s aching, a damp spot forming where the head of his cock threatens to peek out from the G-string’s elastic band. They’re hardly much as it is; they’re not meant to survive this. Not when he feels the warmth in abdomen, that telltale unfurling of pleasure. He hears James tell him, Come, baby, and with his head thrown back, he lets himself break like a wave cresting on a shore.
It’s all white noise, a burn in his veins, and Regulus thinks, This win is fucking mine.
“Holy shit,” James groans, his attention zeroed in on where thick strips of white drip down Regulus’ thigh. His tongue runs over his lower lip before his teeth bite down on it. “Love, you—I need—Fuck, you’re incredible.”
“What do you need? Tell me,” Regulus purrs, using the hand on James’ throat to tilt his head back. He’s still a little high but coming down slowly. James’ eyes are wide as dinner plates, watching Regulus move from out of the corners. They grow impossibly rounder when Regulus runs two fingers through the strips on his leg.
“I need to fuck you. That is what I need.”
“Do you really need to?” Regulus shifts his knee to press it against the bulge in James’ trousers. “Huh. I guess you do.” James’ lashes flutter behind his glasses, eyes drooping closed when Regulus presses harder against him. “I don’t even think you can afford it. Open up.”
James does as he’s told, pliant where he sits under Regulus. He jolts when Regulus sets coated fingers on his tongue, but it’s only a second of surprise before he’s sucking them clean. The music still plays its steady beat; Regulus isn’t sure how many times the song has looped.
“Fucking Christ.” James’ eyes open, pupils blown out, and he looks at Regulus like he’s hung the moon. “Can we—Can I fuck you here? Is that—”
“I win.”
Regulus pushes off of James and gets to his feet. He snatches the slip off the floor, throws it back on, and ties it. He’s hot all over but he’s smug, too. He wants but won’t let himself have, if only to rob James of it. It’s a thrill when he sees understanding dawn on James’ features—the moment his lust-filled haze clears, and he comes to realize what’s happened.
“Oh, you little—”
“You said five thousand. Wire it.”
Regulus crosses the room to stop the music. He shoots James a demure smile over his shoulder, something professional and almost innocent. Even gives him a small parting wave before slipping out the door. His skin buzzes, and his thigh is uncomfortably sticky.
The last thing he sees before the door shuts is James with a hand pressed against the straining bulge between his thighs, his jaw hanging and a wild, awestruck grin on his face.
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ecstarry · 10 days
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the nude
This was the stupidest decision Regulus had ever made. 
It started a week ago. James Potter was late for class, that was not the problem. The problem was that James lacked common sense, so instead of accepting an absence in class, he thought sprinting through campus with a hot coffee on his hand would have a successful outcome. 
It didn’t. 
He ran into an already very annoyed Regulus, and spilled his drink on the paper folder that the boy was dearly holding onto. When he looked up to assess the damage he folded at the sight of a devastated Regulus. He froze as he saw that the beautiful drawings that were carefully hidden behind the folder were absolutely ruined and it was all James’ fault. 
“Please let me make it up to you,” James’ begged and desperately searched for forgiveness in Regulus’ eyes. He could only find despair. Regulus handed them the coffee stained paper and James couldn’t help but blush as he started deciphering the forms drawn: nudes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so unless you’re willing to pose in nude for me, there’s really no-”
“I’ll do it,” James blurted out. No hesitation. 
Accepting James’ help was the stupidest decision Regulus had ever made. He was now in his living room, with a naked James Potter trying to concentrate on drawing him. 
This was definitely not ending well.
you can read more microfics here
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starchaserwrites · 1 month
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@jegulus-microfic / february 18: pet / word count: 572 cw: foul language and violent behavior
James doesn't easily get annoyed, but his biggest pet peeve is people who do not say hello when they arrive at a place, so every time it's his turn to be in charge of the till at the cafe where he works, he struggles to control the twitch in his eye. When the next customer only mutters "venti iced americano, hurry" without even looking up from his phone and throws the money on the counter, he just puts on his best customer service smile and clenches his fists.
Not even five minutes have passed since the order was placed but the man in his early forties is tapping his fingers loudly on the delivery counter and alternating between staring at his watch and at James insistently. Fortunately, there aren't too many customers at this time of day, so Lily and Mary don't take too long to get the man's order ready.
"Is it too fucking hard to make a good fucking drink? I asked you for iced and this is lukewarm!" says the man in a voice loud enough to silence the café that was previously echoing with the soft conversations of customers.
Under normal circumstances James would probably have explained that all that needs to be done to make the drink colder is simply to stir it, but putting on his best smile he offers a "Oh, sorry about that. We'll redo it!" the customer is always right and that shit, right?
So when the drink is handed to him for the second time and the man literally spits the sip he took on Mary, James is ready for a confrontation.
"Are you an idiot or some kind of mentally retarded? This doesn't taste like fucking anything! You bunch of morons were dropped on your heads when you were babies. And you pair of bitches..."
Just as James is about to leap over the counter and punch this asshole, the man is pushed and cornered against the wall in the blink of an eye.
"Can you shut the fuck up?" says Regulus, one of the regulars who comes almost every day after work, shaking the man by the collar of his shirt with his ringed hands. And if James always notices how he sits at the table closest to the counter, and they constantly exchange glances it's nobody's business.
"But-"
"I don't give a shit, you've been throwing a tantrum this whole time and I won't take it anymore so get the fuck out of here this very second or I'm going to shove what's left of your coffee so deep up your ass to see if you can finally taste it." Regulus continues before pushing him against the wall one last time and letting him go.
The lovely customer starts to walk slowly towards the exit, but halfway there he turns around as if to say something.
"I promise they'll be finding your remains for the next four months if you don't walk out that door now," the silver-eyed man says before the forty-year-old can add anything else. The thing is, he says it so menacingly, like he really means it, that James feels weak in the knees.
Physical or verbal violence isn't supposed to be attractive, but this may have awakened something in James.
So please, no one judge him when a few hours later he ends up tangled in his bed from head to toe with Regulus.
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cr-amber · 10 months
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for the @jegulus-microfic prompt: intent.
“Potter,” Regulus calls down the empty hall.
“Fuck off, Regulus,” James says back without turning around.  He doesn’t even sound angry, just tired.
“James,” Regulus tries again, hoping his voice sounds softer in the hall than it does ringing in his own ears.
James turns around.
“You were right,” Regulus starts.  It’s easier than I was wrong.  “It wasn’t my intention-” he cuts himself off.  It doesn’t matter what he intended.  He knows exactly how ignoring James in front of everyone came off.  He tries again.  “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t care who knows.”
James scoffs, but it doesn’t hide the hope in his eyes.  “Prove it,” he says.
“Kiss me?” Regulus asks, daring to take a few steps closer.
“Right here in the corridor?  Anyone could-”
“See us?  That’s the idea.  Dinner’s nearly over too.  Should be a good audience.”  Regulus says it lightly, as if a steady voice can disguise the fact that he’s nearly vibrating out of his skin.
It works, though.  James grins at him, a small thing at first that steadily grows until it lights up his whole face.  “You really mean it,” he says, and it’s not a question.
“I really, really do,” Regulus answers anyway, closing the remaining space between them.  When he’s close enough, he grabs James’ collar and pulls him in.  James is putty in his hands, bending to meet him with lips that were made to fit against his own.
Regulus doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing.  He doesn’t care.  He’s intent on never doing anything else.  That is, until he hears Sirius’ voice from the far end of the corridor.
“Prongs, what the fuck?”
281 words!
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xjustakay · 19 days
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✺ (3/10) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: sugar — 1,146 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; when the five year old is on a sugar high)
Immediately upon getting home from his meeting, Regulus is aware that things have not gone to plan. James was meant to pick up Harry from his mums’, and the two of them were supposed to decide on dinner and their entertainment for the evening. They usually have a movie night together, the three of them, when Harry first comes back to theirs again, but it seems his husband and his son had other plans upon coming home.
Because they’re out in the backyard on the trampoline. 
Regulus hears Harry’s loud laughter carrying from the back screen before he even has to check. Setting his keys aside, he makes his way to the door to the backyard. He stands there inside for a moment, helplessly fond as he watches where Harry sits cross-legged, looking up at James, waiting.
James bounces gently in place a short distance from where the five year old sits before launching himself to land on his feet closer beside him. It flings Harry a few inches off the trampoline’s surface, his little limbs flailing as he shrieks excitedly. He flops flat onto his back afterward, lost in a string of giggles that ends up turning into ‘again, again, again!’
Two peas in a pod, James laughs with him, then reaches with both hands to tow Harry back up in his previous position. Before James can properly send him bouncing as he had moments prior, both of their heads whip in the direction of the sliding screen door when Regulus opens it to step outside.
“Papa!” Harry smiles widely, waving over at him with both hands. “Papa, watch this! Daddy can make me fly.”
“Oh, he can, can he?” Regulus smirks, coming off the patio onto the grass near the trampoline.
Harry nods and looks up at James. “Show him, daddy.”
Despite the fact that he’d just witnessed it moments ago before joining them, Regulus plays along, pretending to be awed by the way James jumps and causes Harry to bounce up off the trampoline. Again, Harry giggles for several seconds, cheeks rosy and smile unrelenting as he rolls from being flopped on his back onto his belly.
“You gotta try it, papa,” Harry tells him. “Daddy’s been doing it for ages now and it’s so fun every time.”
Regulus chuckles with a slow shake of his head. “Where’s all this energy coming from, I wonder?”
“Cookies!” Harry answers immediately, squirming up onto his knees.
One dark brow arches, Regulus’ eyes shifting to James who has the decency to look momentarily sheepish under the questioning look.
“Cookies before dinner?” He asks pointedly.
“I can explain,” James starts.
“Mama was making a whole bunch of them and mum sent me here with a big plate to share with you and daddy,” Harry explains for him.
“So, really, that look should be reserved for Pandora and Lily, my love,” James chimes in.
Regulus smiles tightly, head cocking to the side. “I’m sure you’d prefer that.”
James grimaces faintly and clambers off the trampoline, out through the zip-up mesh opening that keeps the edges screened in, to come to Regulus’ side. A large hand falls at his waist, Regulus still managing to look sternly up at him even when James leans down to kiss his cheek. He clearly has been humoring their son for a while, because he’s flushed and a little sweaty, slightly out of breath and so warm at Regulus’ side.
“You know how hard it is to get him to settle down when he’s had too much sugar,” Regulus points out.
“I know, I’m sorry.” James smooths his hand along his lower back in a continuous motion.
Regulus hums, gaze drifting to where Harry half-runs, half-bounces around the full circle of the trampoline. “How many did you let him have?”
“Just one, I swear.” James follows his line of sight, stepping even nearer to him to curl his arm around his waist. “But he did mention that Pandora had been letting him help in the kitchen, and you know that means—”
“Licking all the spoons.”
“And handfuls of chocolate chips. Ah, and some of them are frosted, even, so uh… icing taste tests, too.”
“Great.” Regulus shakes his head. “This has to be some kind of payback for when we brought him and Luna back to theirs after all that cake and candy at Ron’s birthday party.”
James chuckles and squeezes gently at his side. “He’ll crash soon enough, surely.”
“I assumed that’s why you brought him out here in the first place,” Regulus says.
“It was either that, or his suggestion to build a pillow fort pirate ship in the living room. I felt this was less jarring for you to come home to.”
Regulus watches as Harry does a quick somersault only to spring back to his feet, bounce twice in place, and purposely land on his bum with another bounce. He laughs breathlessly, adjusting glasses knocked askew by the impact, and Regulus can’t help but huff a quiet laugh of his own. Hopped up on sugar as he may be, Harry’s joy is never a thing Regulus takes for granted. Even in the silliest of moments —if not especially then.
“You’re going to sleep like babies tonight,” Regulus comments.
“Probably true.”
“After a solid bath time because you’re both so gross right now.”
James snorts, giving a tilted nod of his head in agreement. “Fair.”
“Have to figure out dinner still, too.”
“We could order a pizza to make things easy?” James suggests. When Regulus nods in reply, he nods, too. “I can stay out here and help him run off some more of the sugar high if you want to go ring it in?”
“No, I’ll watch him. You go inside and get yourself some water before you pass out or something,” Regulus teases.
“I’m fine, thank you. I’m in excellent shape,” James scoffs. Lower, just for him, he murmurs, “A fact you’re very well aware of, my love.”
He punctuates the playful remark by nipping gently at the edge of Regulus’ jaw. Regulus bats him away, lips twitching upward in a smile that couldn’t be held back even if he tried.
“Heathen,” He mutters.
“That’s me. Your heathen husband.” James smacks an overdramatic kiss to Regulus’ cheek this time before separating.
Harry hops up closer to the trampoline’s edge, hands braced carefully on the outside net to ask, “What’s a heathen, papa?”
Regulus hears James laugh loudly behind him on his way inside. 
He shakes his head, grinning fondly as he looks back at Harry. “Don’t worry about that, darling. Why don’t you show me how your cartwheels are coming, hm?”
Harry brightens immediately, nodding and leaping backward. “Okay! Make sure you’re watching the whole time!”
Nothing else in the world seems more worth Regulus’ time than watching their boy be so happy. Riled up on sugar or otherwise.
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kaaaaaaarf · 4 months
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Hey you, I'm here for Wolfstar raising harry recommendations 🤗
Hello!! I'm also going to tag @imsiriuslyreading because I know Lana was also looking for some recs!
This is by no means a comprehensive list, but these are some of my very favs:
Wolfstar Raising Harry
Ten Reasons (To Go To Michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 (I also love these two unrelated wolfstar raising harry microfics by the same author) — This is a Sirius raising Harry and meeting recently divorced Remus (who happens to be a writer) on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A must read! that's the art of getting by by sarewolf — Remus becomes Harry's guardian and they move to a muggle village in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, Sirius is freed and comes to stay with them, but can they get back what they once had? Honestly, majorly obsessed with this one, but watch out for the angst! Stealing Harry by copperbadge — In an alternate universe where Sirius Black never went to Azkaban, Harry divides his life between the Dursleys' house and Mr. Black's bookshop -- until Sirius realises what the Dursleys are doing to him, and takes him away from their care. This series is fucking amazing and actually spans several of the books!! Mr Mouse by TracingPatterns (which continues in their wolfstar raising harry series) — A lovely little piece in which a young Harry learns about grief.
Like Real People Do by third_crow (part of the coffee shop au series) — Sirius raising Harry, when he starts falling for local barista Remus Lupin. This is also a beautiful story about what it's like to live with epilepsy and I am extremely obsessed with this series. The Things I Did by Lolo_row — canon compliant, Remus gets custody of Harry and works to get Sirius out of Azkaban. A bit of angst, but tasty! the dogfather au by hollimichele — Harry was raised by his adoptive muggle family, when one day a big black dog shows up. His parents just thinks he's a stray, and Padfoot becomes the family pet (to keep an eye on Harry, and protect him from Voldemort). Eventually this morphs into Remus also coming into the picture.
Wolfstar Raising Teddy
the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual — Divorced wolfstar are co-parenting a very mischievious Teddy who is not about to let his dads stay divorced!! Honestly this fic is so funny, so heartfelt, so fucking lovely. It also features the most beautiful portrayal of a blind character that I ever seen. A must read! Of Memories and Milk Thievery by @mayescapade — Divorced wolfstar raising Teddy again! Wolfstar have been co-parents for years and they wont stop terrorizing/pranking one another. An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account — Single dad Remus. Remus Lupin knows two things--working and caring for his son, Teddy. When his babysitter sets up crowdfunding so Teddy can go swim with the sea turtles at the local animal rescue, Remus doesn't realise how completely their life is going to change. Especially when he meets Sirius Black, the weekend merman in the aquatic show, and someone who might convince him of love at first sight. Honestly a lovely piece, and it also features the Potter clan.
Other (raising both teddy and harry, wolfstar girldads)
Let's Play Pretend by MsAlexWP — My current obsession!! I can't tell you how many times I've read this. Single parent Remus and single parent Sirius meet at a play date and end up pretend dating so that the old women in Sirius' building (who basically stalk him) will stop trying to set him up. Neither of them can date at the moment, so what could possibly go wrong?? Ultimate comfort fic. Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by TracingPatterns — This is single parent Sirius and single parent Remus, both having moved to a small village and meeting at Harry & Teddy's school. A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP — Again, they are both single parents. Harry Potter is recovering from surgery and facing the worst summer ever until a guy with the same crutches as Harry moves in across the street with his son. So lovely!! Hide-and-Seek by onehundredflamingos — Wolfstar girldads raising their adoptive daughter Cassie, who is also a werewolf. This is the story of her first transformation. It's soooo sweet! @industrations has done a bunch of wolfstar and Cassie art, which you should absolutely go and cry over!
For supplementary material, feel free to check out my Wolfstar Raising Harry, Wolfstar Raising Teddy and Wolfstar Girldads tags!
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veryinnovative · 3 months
Text
@jegulus-microfic | january 2, prompt: fire | word count: 1.575 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger intern james potter
“A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries? What does that even fucking mean?!” James shouts into the receiver as he winds through the busy masses of bodies crossing the roads, the traffic light across blinking for him to hurry. “Can’t I pick up something for him from Burger King or something? You know, like a normal human being?” 
On the other end of the line, Barty snorts a derisive sound. “Yeah, you try feeding him cheap chain franchise slob and see how that plays out for you. The fucker thinks Versace is a low-class brand, James. He probably doesn’t even know what the inside of a Burger King looks like. Besides, that place is fire. They have good shit.”
Groaning, James picks up the speed and sets out for a sprint, having missed the bus to Howick and resorted to the most reliable way of transport—his two sets of healthy, always moderately trained legs. 
“Are you running? You better not be fucking running, Potter. You’re going to come back all sweaty and with creases in your cheap-ass button-up and then I’m going to be the one getting shit for not driving you and ruining the image of Regulus Black’s executive assistant—”
“Suck a dick, Barty,” James bites back after barely evading a car, its tires screeching at him in warning. He throws the driver an apologetic smile.
“I’m serious. You meal-prepped, Potter! Asked where the fucking office microwave is, are you out of your mind? Lunch is on company credit, for fuck’s sake. You’ve got an image to uphold now you’re working for Black Enterprises!”
“The cafeteria is too rich for my taste. Besides, I like meal-prepping. It’s calming.”
“Your fucking tuna stinks up the place.”
“Maybe that’s just your big bullshitting mouth.”
“Listen here, you piece of—”
“Oops, entering a tunnel, hear that?” James cups a hand over the receiver and makes a low, grating sound—mimicking the static rasp of a bad cellular connection. “See you!”
He tucks away the phone before entering Beauxbatons, the restaurant Barty had told him to go to because Regulus was craving his guilty snack, which, to James, sounded like an item right off a witch’s menu. Then again, he was a poor twenty-three-year-old who had just had a gap year fresh out of university, lived in a run-down apartment tucked in Southern London, and knew nothing of the expensive tastes a man like Regulus Black possessed. Thirty-something years old and not a single skin blemish. Must be all the fucking truffle and caviar and whatever Boiron guava puree he eats.
“Welcome,” one of the employees asks. Of course, all of the staff are also wearing pristine clothes and have perfectly sleeked-back hair.
“Hi,” James answers, now all too conscious of the developing sweat marks below his armpits and the dampness cooling on his back. “I’m, uh, here to pick up lunch? Sorry, I forgot my order so let me have a peek at my messages…”
The employee blinks like James has grown a second head. “Take-away? Sir, this is a dine-in restaurant.”
Good thing James has come prepared. He shuffles through the contents of his bag, phone in the other hand and tip of his tongue peeking out in full concentration. “Oh, that’s alright. I brought something to carry it with me. I also got some Tupperware if you don’t mind rinsing it beforehand.”
“No, sir, it’s not a matter of containers,” the employee starts, her lips pursed into a tight line. “We don’t do takeaways.”
James stops and frowns, bag half slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t this Beauxbatons?”
“It is.”
“My boss sometimes has people pick up his lunch here.”
“You must be mistaken… We do not lend any type of service like that.”
James sighs. Great. Amazing. Just what he needed. “Right. Do you mind if I make a call? I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake then.”
The employee, undoubtedly taking pity on him and his disorderly state that suggests he’s been running the past ten minutes, nods. “Of course.”
Heaving a sigh, James scrolls through his contact list and taps on ‘Regulus’, never mind that he has been firmly instructed to only call him during emergencies. But considering the sort of day he’s been having, he considers this one.
Regulus picks up after the third ring. “Potter?”
It’s been two weeks and he still won’t fucking call him by his name, going off on tangents about formal office conduct and etiquette. Potter this, Potter that, bridling when he’s called by his first name for a change in an environment that would kiss the soles of his feet if he’d ask. “Hi, I’m at the place you sent me the address of but they don’t do takeaways so I wanted to know what you want to eat. You cool with Wagamama?”
There’s a pregnant pause—all too telling of how Regulus is probably taking a deep breath and doing the thing where he either pinches the bridge of his nose or rubs his eyebrows. “Have you mentioned the takeaway is for me?”
“No, I haven’t.” What difference would it make, James wants to ask. But in a world where Regulus Black is pretty much revered, he is confident it would make a little difference at least.
“Do that, Potter.”
James rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the employee. “He wants you to know his name is Regulus, by the way.”
Her eyes widen. “Reg—Do you mean Mr. Black?”
James clicks his tongue. “That the one.” The employee doesn’t look convinced and James holds up his hand just above his chest. “About this tall? Curly black hair? Probably in one of today’s morning tabloids, not hard to miss. I could put him on speaker if you’d like?”
There’s the frantic wave of her hands, head shaking vigorously. “Oh! You should have told me from the start, Sir. Please, what would Mr. Black like to eat for lunch? I—I’m sorry. We are very exclusive in our service and are most honored Mr. Black has once again chosen our humble establishment—”
“Just,” James sighs, skimming over the menu laminated standing on an easel by the entrance, not possessing the energy to listen to someone go off on tangents about his boss again. Not like he does so internally at night, anyway. Absolutely not. “A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries.”
“Not fries, a salad—” Regulus reminds him over the phone, but James has decided that he will just about eat whatever James decides on.
“Potter—” Regulus tries again and James flat-out hushes him. To his surprise, Regulus actually shuts up.
The employee nods, over-excited. “Oh, of course, an excellent choice. How would Mr. Black like it to be cooked?”
James shrugs. “I don’t know, on a grill?”
There’s a faint garbled noise coming from Regulus that James will definitely tuck away in his memory.
But the employee is too thrilled to be serving someone as pompous as Regulus to notice the lack of culinary terminology James possesses. “Oh, I meant the cook of the meat!”
“The cook of the meat?” James repeats. “I don’t know, whoever is on shift? Regulus, who do you want to cook your burger?”
The employee makes a high-pitched sound at the same Regulus sighs in a very exaggerated, exhausted manner. “Just tell them medium rare.”
“Medium? What is this, a video game difficulty?”
“Medium rare!” the employee chirps, her smile wry. Strands of hair stick out of the previously perfectly pulled-back bun like the situation has created plenty of static to dishevel her updo. “One medium rare wagyu—”
“Don’t forget the fries,” James adds, unable to fight off the grin cleaving his face. This, he loves most—fucking with rich people. ‘Who do you want to cook your meat?’ he’s a genius for that one, an absolute innovative mastermind. Make him head of corporate next at this rate.
“You had to call me for this?” Regulus asks him as James watches the poor girl scurry off to the back, undoubtedly to ring in the order and gush about the perfect, rich, hot-looking Regulus Black on the phone by the restaurant’s hallway.
“It was an emergency. I get you the wrong order and you, I dunno, bite off my head like Miranda Priestly.”
“I don’t know a Miranda Priestly.”
“No? Shame. Would’ve loved her, a real feisty woman that one. She works in the fashion industry, though.”
“Potter.”
James tries not to bark out a laugh. He can’t help it, Regulus is just too easy. “Yeah, I’ll get you your overtly expensive A3-grade cut of meat that could pay for my weekly rent. Didn’t take you for the type of man to get burgers, by the way.”
“That’s why I’m asking employees of a lower tax bracket to pick them up for me.”
Okay, that’s kind of funny. Regulus Black can be fucking funny if he wants to, he just rarely chooses to. James barely masks his snort at it. “Got me there, boss.”
“Get a cab back to the office. And stop calling me boss.”
“My bad, Sir,” James drawls, knowing that Regulus reacts particularly well to this specific formality. 
A second of silence that stretches on for a little too long. James clears his throat, wondering if the line cut off. “Regu—”
“See you soon, Potter,” Regulus speaks, faster than usual, almost like he’s flustered, and with a strange pitch to his words before he hangs up.
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thedvilsinthedetails · 2 months
Text
Microfic for @wolfstarmicrofic written with the prompt ‘ardent’
Word count: 684
(split this in two halves, second half coming out tmrw)
EDIT: second half here
“Mm I’ve come to an important conclusion. I’m completely irresistible.”
Sirius proudly announced with a grin. They were all sat in the common room, Sirius leaning against James on the sofa. Remus was sat in the arm chair next to him, on his other side Lily, Mary and Peter were taking up the other sofa.
Peter and Lily looked at each other comically before turning and raising their eyebrows at him.
“Sorry yeah, I’m irresistible to everyone that experiences attraction to men.”
Mary laughed then.
“Sure you are.”
Sirius huffed out angrily.
“I am! I’ll prove it to you.”
“Oh please, been there done that. I’m just saying irresistible to everyone who feels attraction to men might be a stretch.”
Sirius whipped his head round to James.
“Tell her she’s wrong.”
“Of course she’s wrong, if I didn’t have an amazing and super hot boyfriend already I’d definitely be a Sirius Black groupie full time.”
“You basically already are.”
Remus chuckled, gesturing at the array of multicoloured hair bands James had around his wrist for Sirius to tie his hair up with at every given moment because Sirius never remembered to bring any. James was an ardent Sirius Black supporter.
That’s when Remus knew he’d made a mistake, the moment Sirius’ eyes landed on him they sparkled mischievously.
“Moony you’re perfect!”
“Huh?”
“I’ll prove it by getting you to kiss me. One month, if Moony hasn’t kissed me by the end of the month I’ll- I’ll cut my hair short! I bet you.”
Everyone gasped. Sirius’ hair was- well- it was Sirius’ hair. 
They were all a bit drunk, Remus had thought it would pass. He’d be fine. The urge to kiss Sirius senseless was something he’d learnt to control early. Remus. would. be. fine.
•••
Remus wasn’t fine. It hadn’t passed at all, in fact it seemed to grow every day. And Sirius was good at it, bloody good at it all. Remus was lanky and awkward, he didn’t flirt. Sirius did though, really fucking well. It had begun with small touches to his arm as Sirius let out little laughs and squinted smiles, hands lingering just a bit longer than it ought to, trailing down to his own hand before dropping away. 
Then it was Sirius wearing Remus’ jumper that was far too big for him, practically swallowing him up as he leaned forward, against Remus as they watched television. A little contented hum as he dropped his head onto Remus’ shoulder and nestled his head against his neck.
Then Sirius started getting bored of subtly.
•••
“Moooony.”
Sirius smiled lazily as Remus entered the dorm room, eyes twinkling.
He was dressed in a white tank top, far too tightly fitted for Remus’ sanity. His leather jacket was discarded next to him on the bed where he was sat cross legged in little faded black denim shorts. 
“Help me braid my hair, would you? It’s sooo hot today, for once in like the entirety of English history. I can’t have it against my neck.”
Remus nodded and Sirius flashed him another cheeky grin. They were both well aware it was only 20°C. Well aware Sirius could braid his own hair. Well aware that whenever he was hot he actually put it up in haphazard top knots, not braids. Still Remus walked towards Sirius, sitting himself down gingerly next to him. 
He gathered Sirius’ thick black hair at the nape of his neck, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity when his fingers brushed against warm ivory skin, trying to ignore the little sigh Sirius gave at the touch, trying to ignore how soft the glossy black hair was and how badly he wanted to just run his hands through it. He braided it quickly. It wasn’t very good, he knew. Remus was pretty shit at hairstyles honestly. It didn’t stop Sirius from biting his lip, gaze slipping to Remus’ lips as he thanked him. Leaning close and whispering so Remus could feel the warm breath against his face.
“Moony you’re just the best.”
As soon as he could, Remus fucking fled the room.
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regscupid · 3 months
Text
1/7 prompt: headache (1113 words) - @jegulus-microfic
Every year at the start of football season, Regulus’ university team holds its annual Boy Toy Charity Auction. A makeshift stage and runway are set up in whatever large, open space the event planners can secure and the players are sent out, one by one, to sell themselves to the highest bidder for the night. It’s a win for everyone really– the money goes to a good cause, the bidders get to go on dates with their pick of ‘the hottest guys on campus’, and the football players get nice, long, strokes to their egos. Regulus couldn’t have cared less about the whole thing.
And yet, here he stands in a room packed tight with people who have spent the whole night ready to throw their money at every attractive man to walk down the runway, too-loud music and voices speaking over each other sending Regulus hurtling towards a headache. Most players have already been bid on, and Regulus can feel himself getting restless.
He only came because Sirius insisted. Absolutely not because James, Sirius’ best friend and the guy he’d been mildly pining over since he was twelve, would be a part of the auction. Even less so because there had been a recent shift in their relationship, barely concealed hope growing a bit with every interaction between them. He wasn’t desperate to see who would bet on James, and how James reacted to it. Not at all.
“Do you think they’ll bid out the sound guy?” Sirius cranes his neck to get a good look at the tall man on the side of the stage, clearly trying to do as much of his job as possible without being seen. Regulus recognizes him immediately as Remus Lupin, the TA in one of his classes.
Regulus scowls, “I don’t know? I don’t care.”
Sirius bites his lip, still distracted by Remus when Regulus’ words seem to register. He turns back to Regulus, squinting. “Just because you’re getting impatient waiting for your choice bid doesn’t mean you get to have an attitude. No one likes a grouch.”
“I’m not bidding on him,” he mumbles.
Sirius nods with a look of mock contemplation, “So you’re fine with someone else bidding on him then?”
Regulus ignores the way his face heats up and his chest tightens at the thought, rolling his eyes.
“I’ll live.”
The music fades as the man at the podium begins to announce the next player.
“Alright, this is our last boy for the night, so get excited and turn out those pockets! Remember, this is for a good cause!” The music swells as the crowd cheers.
James Potter has always thrived on attention. Regulus figured it had to be some mix of being an only child and being as attractive he is. It had to have gone to his head.
So, it’s unsurprising when he bounds onto the stage, smile blinding as people in the crowd whoop and wolf whistle. Regulus watches dumbfounded as he struts to the end of the runway, before reaching down and pulling his jersey over his head, revealing the “BOY TOY” painted across his chest.
“Here we have team captain and heartthrob, James Potter! Do we have a first bid?” The announcer has to all but yell into the microphone to be heard over the crowd.
“Eighty dollars!”
“Jesus,” Sirius laughs. Regulus is not laughing.
“Eighty dollars! Do I hear eighty-five?”
Panic grips Regulus as the bid gets higher and higher. Most bids that night hadn't even reached eighty dollars, yet alone started there. Before his senses can kick in, he’s calling out a bid of his own.
“One hundred and ten!” Just out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius turn toward him, mouth agape. His face burns, and he can’t look at James, but he has already committed to it.
“One hundred ten! Is there a one-fifteen?
“One hundred and fifty dollars!” a woman somewhere in the crowd calls. Regulus grits his teeth.
“One-eighty,”
“One-ninety!”
Regulus groans under his breath, too aware that he only had two hundred dollars in his wallet at the moment. He turns to Sirius, who's watching with wide eyes and an amused grin. “Do you have cash on you?”
“Yeah, fifty. Why?”
“Give it to me.”
“What? No.”
“Please for the love of god, Sirius, I’ll pay you back and introduce you to the sound guy, I know him. Just do this one thing for me.”
“One-ninety going once!”
“Fine.”
“Two-fifty!”
When no one attempts to outbid him, Regulus lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in since the bidding started. He finally looks at James as he begins walking backward on the runway. His smile has turned into a smirk, and he winks at Regulus before turning around and jogging backstage. Regulus’ stomach curls into not entirely unpleasant knots.
“I can’t believe I just agreed to give you fifty bucks to get with my best friend.” Sirius mumbles, before a slightly delirious laugh bubbles out of him. “I knew you couldn’t handle someone else bidding on him.”
Regulus chooses not to respond, only shoving his arm instead.
Everyone begins clearing out, either disappointed that they didn’t win any dates, celebrating their winning bids, or simply buzzing from the dramatic end to it all.
“Better go see your ‘date’. Tell Prongs to have you home by midnight or I’ll hunt you both down.”
Regulus scowls, but there's no real bite to it, the nerves beginning to get to him. He says goodnight, then works his way to the table set up next to one of the doors for payment. Just as he’s finished telling the woman his name and handing over the money, he catches James standing a few feet behind him. His arms are crossed over his chest and Regulus has to try very hard not to look down at his biceps. Not that looking at his grin dead-on was much better.
“If you wanted to go on a date that bad you could’ve just asked, you didn’t have to drop two hundred and fifty dollars on me.”
Regulus is hyper-aware of the woman sitting there watching them. So, with the payment all taken care of, he steps away from the table, expecting James to follow him out of the building. He does.
“Don’t get a big head about it.”
James rests his hand on his chest and faux-gasps, “How can I not when the Regulus Black wants that badly to go on a date with me?”
“...Do you think they do refunds?”
“No, you’re stuck with me.” James’ smile softens, and Regulus can’t help the small smile that pulls at his own lips.
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lulublack90 · 2 months
Text
Prompt 16 - Bone
@jegulus-microfic January 16 Word count 536
Grimmauld Place was a mess. His mother had turned to madness in the end. After his father had died and she realised she was alone, she’d snapped. Hence, the state of every single room. 
Regulus had asked James to help him clear some of the mess up. 
“I’d ask Sirius, but he’d just throw everything out.” James had agreed straight away. The fact that Regulus was asking for help meant a lot. 
They started upstairs, thinking it might be better to work from the top down. 
“Godric, she did a right number on Sirius’s room,” James called as he surveyed the piles of rubbish, clothes and other random items. Regulus popped his head around the door. 
“Yeah, no. She hasn’t been in here. This is all Sirius.” James felt his jaw drop. Sirius had always been messy, but this was beyond what James thought he was capable of. He closed the door and joined Regulus in his room. “Sirius can sort that out himself when he comes back,” Regulus said to James as he sorted through the items in the boxes he’d just pulled out of his cupboard. 
Amongst the things was a tiny cauldron. James picked it up. 
“This is adorable.” He smiled as he wondered why on earth Regulus would need such a small cauldron. 
“It’s from my first potions set,” Regulus told him, pointing out the equally tiny vials of potion ingredients. James looked them over. He recognised most of them and could guess what most of the others contained. One vial he picked up and shook. 
“Why would a child ever brew a potion that requires a bone?” Regulus shrugged, returning to sorting his belongings into keep and throw piles.
“It wasn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill potions set. Don’t forget who my family are.” James carefully put the vial back down. 
“At least tell me it isn’t human.” He grimaced, wishing he’d never noticed it. 
“Really, James. Even my parents wouldn’t give a 6-year-old a human bone to brew with. I think it’s rabbit or something.” This oddly didn’t make James feel any better. Regulus rolled his eyes and swept all the vials into the bin bag with all the other rubbish. James stared at the bag, even though he could no longer see the bone, he knew it was still there. 
“Oh, for crying out loud, James, it’s going in the bin. Stop thinking about it.” But he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny, raven-haired, curious boy learning how to brew his first potion. 
“Do you think—I mean, if we ever— erm,” He struggled to find the right words. 
“What is it, James?” Regulus asked, concerned at the stuttering mess James had suddenly become. James took a breath and tried again. 
“Not that we have to, but if we ever have a child, can we get them a little set like that? Sans rabbit bone, perhaps.” Regulus walked forward and wrapped his arms around James’s body. 
“You’re adorable, you know that.” He laughed into James’s chest. “But, yes, when we have a child, we will get them a potions set.” James couldn’t keep the stupid grin that covered his face off it at those words for the rest of the day.  
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messrsage · 9 months
Text
the only thing that matters
from @jegulus-microfic prompt: dress (words: 665)
tw: references to transphobia (nothing directly in the story but Regulus mentions his parents transphobia)
When James comes home the flat is quiet. He's not sure how he knows it but he senses that something is wrong immediately.
It's always been like that, he thinks. This thing tethering him to Regulus. Like a string tying them together.
When Regulus's side of the string is fraying James can feel it.
Today it's fraying.
He finds him with wet cheeks and red eyes; sitting on the floor in the living room, cocooned in a pile of blankets.
James doesn't say anything, just lowers himself to the floor.
Careful not to touch him.
Regulus usually doesn't like to be touched in moments like these.
So even though all James wants is to pull him into his arms and bury his face against Regulus's curls and shower him in kisses he doesn't.
He sits down.
He waits.
He can be patient.
He can be patient for Regulus.
Eventually Regulus sighs. Wipes his face with the sleeves of his sweater.
"They're not coming," he whispers.
James frowns.
"Who's not coming?" he asks.
"My parents. They're not coming to the wedding"
His voice cracks at the end, as if he can't bear to say it aloud.
As if saying it aloud would make it real.
James says nothing. He knows there's more. He can see it on Regulus's face.
When Regulus doesn't speak he moves his feet until they're resting next to the other boy's.
It's more a pressure than a touch really, but James still feels it.
The spark.
It's still there.
After all these years the string between them still feels like electricity when they touch.
He thinks Regulus feels it too; hopes that it will be enough to remind him that he's here no matter what.
That he loves him.
That Regulus could tell him anything and it would be okay.
Regulus takes a deep breath.
"They wanted me to wear a dress. Said they wouldn't come if I didn't"
Oh.
James's first reaction is anger. He's ready to stand up, to go curse Regulus's parents out - or worse.
But then he catches the look on Regulus's face and he knows. He knows that isn't what Regulus needs right now.
Regulus needs him to be here.
James swallows hard.
"I hope you told them to go fuck themselves," he says.
Regulus starts laughing and James is quick to join him; eager to do anything to make him feel better, but it doesn't take long for Regulus's laughter to turn to tears.
He holds his hands over his mouth as if trying to keep the sobs from coming out but it doesn't matter because his whole body is shaking and before he knows it he's gasping and crying and falling into James's open arms.
James doesn't know what to do.
Doesn't know how to fix this.
It's not the first time he wishes he could fix things for Regulus when it comes to his parents but he knows it's not his place.
Knows that Regulus's hackles go up as soon as James tries to get involved.
Knows that all he can do really is love him and hope that that is enough.
"I'm sorry, love" he whispers as Regulus tries desperately to push himself as close to James as possible. He winds his arms around James's neck and presses his head against James's shoulder and keeps on crying.
Eventually he starts to settle but his grip on James doesn't loosen. James's own arms around his waist are tight and secure.
James presses a kiss to his curls the way he had wanted to do earlier.
Waits until Regulus's breathing goes from hitching gasps, to hiccups to evening out again.
And then he says the only thing he can say.
The only thing that matters.
"I love you," he says. "I love you so much, you know that right? And I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself"
Regulus sighs against his neck.
Leaves a tiny kiss on his collarbone.
"Yeah," he whispers against his skin. "Yeah, I love you too"
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sweetmoonlight7 · 17 days
Text
12. Retire
@jegulus-microfic | March 12: retire | word count: 215
Somehow for some reason, life didn’t end when he was 15 and his brother left, or when he was 18 and was thrown into a war with no choice. Regulus couldn’t quite comprehend how he got here. He thinks some of it was luck and some was destiny. 
Living when he was sure he was going to drown in that cave? Luck. But after everything, finding James and getting to live their life together? That was destiny. 
He stands here in the middle of his well-decorated house full of pictures and trinkets he had gathered over the years. 
It isn’t very common for a Hogwarts teacher to retire. For most of his school life, he had the same teachers that he taught with when he started. But with his kids grown up and enough money to settle, James and he decided it was the best for them. 
Having so much of their lives surrounded by war and the fallout of the war they needed a rest. 
Sure they were fairly young for retirement but it wasn’t like that meant the end of their life. 
They still had so much they could do, so many places they could travel, and photos to add to their walls. Regulus was ready to live all of that with James. 
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imdamagecontrol · 7 months
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september 6 - houseplant. 2,188 words. @jegulus-microfic. nsfw.
part one. part two. unspecified age gap. professor/student. daddy james.
It begins, of all things, with a houseplant.
The entire school is talking about him by the end of the first day.
Have you seen the new professor? Professor Potter?
I heard he’s single. Do you think—?
I heard he’s divorced. How old do you think he is? Forties?
Definitely not. Thirties, easy.
He’s giving dad vibes. But like, in a daddy sort of way.
I’d suck his dick for an A.
Regulus hears the whispers, but he missed the first day of classes. Family problems, he told Professor Potter in an e-mail. I can explain if you need me to, but fair warning, I will occasionally miss class.
To which Professor Potter replied, No worries. Take care and let me know if you need anything.
Unfortunately, Regulus does need something—a copy of the textbook he can’t afford. When he replied with this, Professor Potter said to stop by his office. I have extras. You’re welcome to one.
Regulus likes him already; he’s nice.
Whether he’s as hot as the rumors claim remains to be seen.
Regulus finds his office tucked away in a corner. It’s the temporary office all new professors are stuck in until their official office is ready. It’s tiny, lacking much sunlight. Regulus feels a little bad for him. Professor Potter is nice, after all. He deserves a nice office.
At Regulus’ knock, there’s a gruff, “Come on in.”
His voice is definitely pleasant, at least. Warm, but not exactly soft.
“Good morning, Professor. I’m—”
Regulus freezes, fingers tightening on the door handle. He really, really thought the rumors were bullshit. His university has had plenty of “hot” professors, but as far as he’s concerned, not one of them lived up to the hype.
Professor Potter is not in this box of Not Hot “Hot” Professors.
He’s in a category all his own.
“Hello.” His desk is a mess—the entire office is, really—but he’s cleared a space for his laptop. “Are you Regulus?”
Fuck.
His name has never sounded so good.
“I am,” he manages, hiking his messenger bag higher on his shoulder. “I’m, uh. Here for the book?”
“Sure, sure. I have it right here.” Professor Potter reaches in his desk, then holds out a thick textbook. “You can keep this one. No need to return it. I hope everything is alright, though.”
And Regulus, not one to like talking about his home life with a stranger, finds something—anything—to latch on to. Says in lieu of a reply, “Your houseplant is dying,” and wants to die on the spot.
Professor Potter’s brows furrow, but he follows Regulus’ line of sight. “Ah. That thing. It’s not mine. It was here when I moved in. Bummer, though. It doesn’t deserve to die because I’m incompetent.”
“I know how to take care of plants.”
“Green thumb, then?”
“Something like that.” Regulus nods at the dying plant. “Just water it and take it out of direct sunlight. But don’t use too much water or you’ll drown it.”
Professor Potter grins, and Regulus melts into the floor. “How much is too much for you?”
Oh. Oh. Regulus is dead on his feet. His voice high, a little thin, when he replies, “Start small. Add a little more with time.”
“Mm. I’ll give it a go. Thank you, Regulus.”
//
By the third week of school, Regulus’ crush is out of control.
He’s always been a top student, and law is his thing, but he can’t focus in class. Not when his professor’s ass looks that good in his suit trousers. Not when he runs his fingers through already messy hair and makes it messier. Tanned skin and broad shoulders, a brilliant smile and nice to everyone he meets.
Regulus has never wanted to climb someone more.
//
“I don’t think I’m saving the plant.”
Regulus stops on his way out the door. He’s the last student to go. Not intentionally, of course. He just…took a while putting his stuff away.
“Oh?” he asks as the door shuts.
Professor Potter shrugs, a little sheepish. “Do you mind coming by my office later? If you’re free. No pressure. I’ve just grown attached to that little plant. I’d hate to see it die.”
Regulus realizes he’s nodding before the “Yes” even leaves his lips.
//
The office is too small and Regulus is burning.
This man is just so tall, and he stands behind Regulus, watching him water the houseplant, without a single care for the damage he’s doing to Regulus’ frayed nerves.
“Huh. I was giving it too much, I think.”
“Like I said—start small. Add a little more once it’s used to it.” Regulus flinches. His brain is so far in the gutter he doesn’t think it’ll ever crawl out.
Professor Potter leans against his desk. “How are your classes?”
Regulus, able to breathe again, blinks at him. “They’re…fine, I guess.”
“And mine?”
“Difficult, but not the worst. I like the material. You teach it well.”
That smile again—blinding, but Regulus can’t look away. “Thank you, Regulus. I appreciate that. You’re welcome to my office any time if you have questions.”
Regulus takes a deep, steadying breath, and goes for it: “I can stop by to water the plant, if you want. I get out of class at noon. I’ll water it at lunch.”
Impossibly, the grin widens. “I’d like that.”
//
Regulus is good at reading people. It’s a skill acquired from years in a home that wasn’t right. He’s learned to read moods. To get a feel for what a person wants before they even open their mouths.
So it’s easy, after a week of spending lunch with one Professor Potter and his houseplant, for Regulus to know he’s wanted. Even in class, he feels that gaze like a hand trailing fingers down his spine.
But he bides his time. Waits a month. Learns that Professor Potter is James, and he’s accomplished in his field. Smart. Mid-thirties and yes, he’s divorced, but no, his ex-wife isn’t the devil.
She’s lovely, he tells Regulus one afternoon. We just wanted different things. She’s dating a woman now, and I’m—well, I’m open to whatever.
Regulus is so, so screwed.
//
It happens on a Friday.
It’s an accident, really. Regulus just meant to check on the houseplant before heading home. He didn’t expect James to be there. He’s usually gone by now, along with the rest of the faculty.
Except today, he isn’t. Today, he’s sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. When Regulus walks in, he looks up.
“Oh,” Regulus says, startled. “You’re not usually here on Fridays.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Is now a bad time? I just wanted to—”
James shakes his head. “Now is a perfect time. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Regulus’ heart skips a beat. “Oh. Okay. Well, I have an hour before the bus. So I’ve got time.”
“I can take you home, if you miss it.”
How long is this talk going to be?
Regulus drops his messenger bag in one chair and sits in the other, waiting. He tries not to fidget. Can’t help it and ends up shoving his hands under his thighs to quell the tremors.
“Look, Regulus. I think you know what I’m about to tell you, but I’m going to say it anyway. Clear the air.” James rubs at his temples. Takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes, then shoves them back on. “I’m—Fucking hell. I’m attracted to you. Which is the least professional fucking thing I’ve ever said during my career, but there it is.”
Regulus stills.
“And you—Well, you’re brilliant. Easily the best student in my class. So I’m going to be adult about this and have you transferred. I’m not fucking with your schooling just because I want to—” James’ jaw clenches. “I’ve talked to the other professor that teaches this course. She said she’s happy to take you—”
“No.”
James’ mouth snaps shut. “I’m sorry?”
“No. I want to stay in your class.”
“Regulus. I don’t—What are you doing?”
Regulus’ body moves on its own. He gets to his feet, walks around the desk, and pushes at the back of James’ chair to turn him. I’m attracted to you. It’s as good as giving Regulus the green light.
“Oh, fuck. This is—” But James chokes on his words when Regulus straddles him, knees on either side of his hips and arms around his neck. “This is not where I expected this to go.”
“Isn’t it?” Regulus asks, tilting his head. “Tell me you had no idea I’m attracted to you, too.”
James drops his head back, nostrils flaring. “I had some idea, yes.”
“I’m a busy guy. Lots of schoolwork. Part-time job. Yet I take an hour every day to come take care of your houseplant. Don’t you think that’s a bit much, Professor?”
On the last word, Regulus rolls his hips forward, arousal clear where it strains against his jeans.
“Fuck,” James hisses, hands already sliding over Regulus’ ass. “We can’t—I can’t sleep with a student. I will lose my job so fucking fast. I don’t care how—Regulus, don’t.”
But Regulus is nothing if not hellbent on getting what he wants now that he knows he can have it. So he rolls his hips again, bearing down on James’ cock, slowly filling underneath him.
“I think about it all of the time,” Regulus says, lips on James’ ear.
“Think about what?”
Regulus grins. James is breathless, hands gripped tight on his waist. “I know you’d fill me up good, daddy. So why don’t you?”
It’s a growl low in James’ throat, then a mouth hot and demanding on Regulus’. A brutal kiss, filthy, and long overdue. Regulus feels a little lightheaded; the room fades and there’s only this kiss, and James underneath him—and he’s hungry.
He doesn’t tell James he technically has a date tonight. Some random guy from the coffee shop. A quick fuck to mellow him out before the weekend.
What he does tell James is, “Fuck me on your desk,” and oh, James does. He works Regulus open with surprisingly gentle fingers, then hoists him up on the edge.
“I—Wait, fuck,” he mutters, his sudden irritation palpable. “I don’t have condoms. I—Fuck. I’m an idiot. How could I—”
“I take it you don’t make it a habit of fucking your students,” Regulus muses, leaning back on his elbows. His ankles are hooked over James’ shoulders, his cock swollen and red, leaking all over his stomach.
“I don’t ever do it. But I—Damn it.”
“I’m clean,” Regulus offers. “If that makes a difference.”
James’ jaw clenches. Regulus can see him warring with the desire to fuck the man spread open on his desk, and the need to be responsible. “Are you—Fuck, baby, I want you so bad. I can wait, though. It’s up to you.”
Regulus tugs him forward, urges him down, and kisses him hard enough to feel teeth. “Just fuck me. Please, daddy.”
It does the trick. James uses a mixture of the moisture at his head and spit in his palm to slick himself up. He pushes into Regulus slow, inch by inch, swearing the entire way. It isn’t until Regulus tells him, “Fuck me like you mean it,” that he moves.
The desk isn’t bolted to the floor. It skids, loud, and Regulus is beyond thankful the faculty is gone. He doesn’t think it would take a genius to figure out what’s happening in the office at the end of the hall.
James fucks him better than he’s ever been fucked in his life, and Regulus breaks the skin on his knuckles when he bites down to keep himself quiet. James kisses him, swallows the moans that escape, and when Regulus breaks, James is there to pick up the pieces.
“Can I—?” James manages, breathless. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”
“Inside,” Regulus tells him, delirious from his own orgasm, still working through it. “It’s—Yeah, it’s fine. Just—Yes.”
James stills inside him a moment later, and Regulus is so high he doesn’t know up from down. He throws his head back, James’ lips on his neck, and the whole world feels right like this.
“That was—” James coughs a laugh, then groans when he pulls out. “That was not at all where this talk was supposed to go.”
“Don’t lie. You know as well as I do where it’s been going.”
James smirks down at him. “What time is your bus?”
“It left five minutes ago.”
“So you need a ride.”
Regulus bites down on an already bruised bottom lip. “Something like that.”
James runs a hand down his face with a groan. “This wasn’t a one time thing, was it?”
“You tell me.”
“No. You make the rules, baby. Not me.”
Regulus purses his lips. “Sounds fair. I’ll take the weekend to think about it. Homework, if you will. How’s that sound, professor?”
“It sounds like you’re going to ruin my entire life, and I’m probably going to let you do it. On my knees. Hands tied behind my back.”
“Good. Then I think we’re off to a fantastic start.”
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starchaserwrites · 13 days
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@jegulus-microfic / march 15: use / word count: 456
"Regulus? Please don't hang up!,” the person on the other end of the line says as soon as he picks up the call. “I know you told me you never wanted to hear from me again, but I really need to hear your voice," It's three in the morning and the incoming call dragged him out of the peaceful sleep he was having.
A moment passes and the man continues with an abnormal speech rhythm. "Well, if you don't want to say anything just listen. I miss you incredibly much… and I know I need to move on, but how could I look away now that I've seen you?" there is the faint sound of clinking glasses and laughter. "I think I'm starting to forget things about you that I never thought I'd have to forget. I can't remember which of the bookshops near your flat you like best, or what brand of pencils you prefer to use," a hint of anguish and despair creeps in at the end of the sentence.
"Oh, by the way your favorite black hoodie is still here, I didn’t forget about it! It still smells vaguely of you and sometimes I wake up thinking that you'll be on the other side of the bed and that this will all have been a bad dream. Please come get it whenever you want, it would be more than nice to see you.
“Anyway, I'm surprised you're so quiet and haven't insulted me yet, I hope it's a sign that you're not so angry anymore. It hurts me every moment we are apart, and if you forgive me I promise I won't fail you ever again… I'm so sorry and I love you." the sound of sobs fills the line.
"Hey, do yourself a favour and never call this number again or you will regret it." James Potter answers in a steady voice.
The caller audibly gasps. “Wha— who are you? Where is Reggie?”
“I’m his boyfriend, that’s all you need to know,” the arm around his waist pulls him closer. “If you ever call again, I won’t be this calm, be warmed.”
"James, who is it?" asks a sleepy Regulus as he snuggles closer to his chest.
James is more than fed up with the pathetic speech, but he ends the call with a pleased smirk when Regulus' ex starts to protest after hearing his voice.
"Wrong number." 
It's the fourth time this month that the ex-boyfriend who cheated on Regulus has called. James and Regulus are not together (at least not yet), but after seeing him torn to pieces after the break-up, James refuses to let the bastard hurt him anymore.
Wrapping Regulus in his arms they go back to sleep.
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donotwishonme · 3 days
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march 25: eyeliner - 728 words - @jegulus-microfic - sapphic jegulus
Another Saturday, another night out with her friends. James offered her flat for pre-gaming. She still has about twenty minutes before everyone is here. Though her most important guest is already here.
She enters the bathroom where Regulus is currently applying her lipstick, dark red, the last step in her make-up routine. James knows it, beginning to end. She goes to stand behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist, leaving small kisses on her shoulders.
Grey eyes meet hazel ones in the mirror. It’s not easy having such a pretty girlfriend, but it is a burden James is willing to bear. She grabs the eyeliner off the counter and holds it out to Regulus. “Can you help me with my eyeliner?”
Regulus takes her hand and guides her back to her bedroom and instructs her to go sit on the bed. She does as told. Regulus is standing between her legs, one hand under her chin tilting her head up, with the other she takes the eyeliner from James, using her mouth to uncap it. James takes the cap from between her lips placing it next to her on the bed.
She closes her eyes to let Regulus do her magic, but as soon as the pen touches her eye she flinches.
“James, fucking stay still or learn how to do this yourself,” Regulus told her sternly, pointing the eyeliner at her accusingly where she stood over her.
Regulus tries to continue, but she moves again, with the pencil so close to her eye, it’s involuntary. “Reg, I’m so sorry, I’m staying still now, I promise.”
“I should stab your eyes out, Potter, I swear to God.” A gasp escapes her lips as Regulus pushes her down on her back. Then she climbs on top of James, straddling her waist. James’ hands immediately find their way to Regulus’ hips, playing with the hem of her shirt. Regulus glances down at her hands. “Do not distract me.”
James’ hands have found their place underneath her shirt, palms pressed against the warm skin she finds there. Regulus bends over her again, faces close together, James loves Regulus’ face when she is concentrating, adores the little crease between her brows and the way she is biting her lip. “James, eyes closed.” 
“You’re just too beautiful, sweetheart,” she sighs before she complies with the request. The pen goes over her eyelids in one smooth motion, cold ink drying quickly. Staying still helps, it’s done within a few seconds. 
She hears the cap click back on the pen. Regulus places a kiss on her cheek, then whispers in her ear, “You can open your eyes again.” Regulus is busy inspecting her work, but James is admiring. Regulus looks like an angel. The light behind her, illuminating her. Her dark curls framing her face perfectly and her natural beauty even more enhanced by the make-up she is wearing.
“I love you.” It just slips out, she didn’t mean to say it, but she means it. The focussed look on Regulus’ face melts into a small smile. 
“What?”
“I love you,” she repeats, this time with certainty behind it. “You don’t have to say it back, but I do, I love you.”
Regulus leans in closer, she can feel her breath on her lips. “I love you, too,” she whispers before connecting their lips.
It starts slow and gentle, with a new meaning. She loves me and I love her. It soon grows more passionate. The hands James still has under Regulus’ shirt roam over her back. Soft nips turn into hungry bites. 
Before it can evolve into anything more the doorbell rings. Regulus groans and lets her head fall to the side on James’ shoulder. “I’ll get it.”
She straightens her shirt and leaves to open the door. James takes a moment before she follows. She loves me and I love her. It’s a wonderful feeling.
She rounds the corner just as Regulus pulls open the door. Before she can even greet them, Barty and Evan burst out laughing. She doesn’t understand until Regulus turns around to shoot her a confused look. The red lipstick. It’s smeared all around her lips and she guesses she is sporting a similar look.
There is a moment of silence between them before, they too, burst out in laughter. This is what being in love looks like.
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