#this is too long to be a microfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bri-cheeses · 9 days

Text

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 496 | A follow up to this microfic |

-

“We’re not dating,” Barty said definitively.

Adriata blinked. “I’m sorry?” she said.

“Evan and I,” Barty said slowly, “are most definitely not dating.”

“Really?” She sounded absolutely flabbergasted, and Barty could not be more confused.

“Um, yes? I’m not sure where you even got that impression in the first place.”

“You’re literally cuddling in front of a fireplace at one in the morning,” she pointed out. “And that’s a common occurrence. It’s not our fault we all assumed you guys were dating.”

“We?” Barty echoed.

Again, that snort from Regulus. Barty cut him a look, and he immediately went back to reading as if to say, “Don’t involve me in this.”

Barty looked back to Adriata as she stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Yes, we. As in the entire castle, Barty.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, what were we supposed to think?” She exclaimed. “You two smelled each other in Amortentia, you’re always touching in at least one way, and I’m fairly certain that your eyes have turned into hearts by now with how often you look at each other like you’re in love. Assumptions were going to be made, Crouch.”

“Still,” he said skeptically, “that’s a pretty big leap to make.”

Adriata’s mouth fell open and she turned to Regulus, who had given up on pretending to read by this point.

“Is he always like this?” she asked.

Barty looked at him and waited for his reply, feeling relieved to have someone here who was on his side.

Regulus nodded solemnly. “They both are. It’s horrible.”

“Excuse me?” he said again. Were his eyes and ears malfunctioning, or had Reg really just turned on him?

“Barty,” Regulus said, leveling a flat look at him, “I have lived in the same dorm room as you two for six years. Trust me when I say it’s been painful to watch you guys tiptoe around each other.”

“I’m not—I’m not tiptoeing around Evan,” Barty said faintly.

“You are,” Adriata supplied helpfully. Regulus nodded.

A warm puff of air from Evan’s lips caused Barty to look down. The firelight was still casting shadows across his face and his eyelashes fluttered slightly. His parted lips were full and Barty could imagine the exact shade of pink they would be if it were daytime. A curl had fallen across Evan’s face, and Barty brushed it away.

“I don’t like Evan,” he said, but his voice shook slightly.

Another warm exhale. Something fluttered in Barty’s stomach.

“Right,” said Regulus.

The light danced through Evan’s hair.

“I don’t,” Barty insisted, but it was less sure than he’d like it to be.

“Sure,” said Adriata.

Evan’s hand tightened in Barty’s shirt, and the flutter in his stomach turned into the flapping of a thousand wings.

And oh.

Maybe he did like Evan. Maybe he had liked Evan for a while now, even.

“I like Evan?” Barty tried to say, but it came out more as a question.

“Yes,” Adriata stressed as Reg muttered, “Finally.”

-

#let’s give it up for my girl Adriata 👏👏👏#and also Reg ofc #he deserves after having to deal with this for wayyy too long #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #rosekiller microfic #my microfics #slytherin skittles #regulus black

144 notes · View notes

lupine-trees · 22 days

Text

humility

[ for @microficmay day 14. drarry | rating: t | word count: 254 | part 12 | part 1 here ♡⋆˙ ]

— — —

After a morning of broom maintenance and more testing on his (as-yet-in-progress) training wheels charm, Harry finds Draco in the tertiary lab. It’s small and unadorned and the one McGonagall set aside for Draco to complete his Owl-post potions mastery program.

Draco sits at his scattered desk, flipping through envelopes and scribbling into his notebook. The work table is a stark contrast, organized carefully, neat as a pin. A small pewter cauldron bubbles over the low simmer of a charmed hearth stone.

“Wolfsbane?” Harry murmurs, finally catching Draco’s attention.

His gaze snaps up, a smile flicking over his face before falling away.

“The mod I’ve been working on. I’m trying to imbue some of the elements of a Pepper-Up, so the characteristic crash isn’t quite so abrupt, but the bicorn horn and the occamy egg powder are counteractive— I mean, obviously. I thought I could use dried occamy as a substitute, but it doesn’t perform as efficiently alongside the necessary dosage of Sopophorous beans.”

He taps his fingers across the desktop, thoughtful.

“I’m wondering if I could supplement the dried occamy with porcupine quills, but there have been limited studies on their interactions, and nothing that’s gone to the clinical stages, and I don’t really have time to start from scratch, at least not right now, but I thought— what?” Draco falters.

“Nothing,” Harry says, lopsided grin unchecked.

Draco frowns.

“You’re remarkable,” Harry huffs, approaching his desk.

The tips of Draco’s ears go pink.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says.

“Don’t be modest,” Harry answers.

#microficmay2024 #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry fic #a bit behind folks— sorry ‘bout it!#an extra long for your troubles ha #*update #i spent far too long looking at potions info for this #& still nobody double-check me lol #mine #fic tag #lup writes #lup’s microfic may

18 notes · View notes

afewproblems · 11 months

Text

To Better Things Ahead (Than What We Left Behind)

Okay, there's a video of two ladies in a golf cart and one is trying to teach her friend how to shotgun a white claw and it has SUCH Steve and Robin energy that I had to:

"Okay, so you just put your mouth on the hole that you made," Steve says patiently as Robin lifts the can to her face.

She glares balefully as she does so, with one eyebrow raised and skepticism clear in her eyes.

"Listen carefully now Buckley, these are important life skills after all," Eddie says conspiratorially to Robin and Nancy as he leans down to grab a beer for himself from the cooler, he gestures to the can as he turns to Nancy who nods. Eddie leans down a second time to grab another can and Steve can't help but stare.

How can he not, Eddie’s ass is fully on display as he leans forward, and the borrowed red trunks hug him in all the right ways. He looks at Steve briefly and winks with a wide lascivious grin complete with dimples.

Steve tries to tamp down the blush that threatens to emerge, rolling his eyes as he scoffs loudly.

He could easily blame it on the heat but Steve is also fairly certain that Nancy has now caught on to how the blush only ever surfaces when Eddie teases him --or when he took off his shirt earlier and tossed it at Steve's head.

It's not Steve's fault, he’s only human after all.

He ignores the way Nancy's blue eyes follow him with a small knowing smile as she takes the beer Eddie offers.

It's a Saturday and one of the few days that Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie are completely free of obligations --school is out for the summer, the kids are all at the arcade, and none of them have been scheduled for work.

They settle beside the Harrington pool; no one has ventured into the water just yet but given the height of the sun and the rising temperature, swimming hasn't been completely written off for the rest of the afternoon.

Nancy rubs a layer of sun block on her arms and readjusts the umbrella Steve set up for her and Robin --who had previously demanded it not five seconds before abandoning the shaded seat to squeeze herself in beside Steve on the sunbleached lounge chair closest to the pool's edge.

"Okay Birdy, now in a sec you’re gonna crack the top of the can and you’ll want to tip it slightly so gravity helps you --then just start suckin’,” Steve continues, trying his best to ignore their audience and the strange flash of deja vu that hits him.

He looks up briefly at Nancy and wonders if she feels it too.

It's been a slow process, getting used to sitting beside his pool again without the constant reminder of everything that happened that night hanging over his head.

He still hasn’t reinstalled the diving board, not yet.

Steve’s gaze wanders, catching Eddie staring, the barest hint of pink begins to bloom along his cheekbones as he gestures with his beer can, "you better watch your apprentice Stevie--”

He says it just in time for Robin to crack the top of the can and a fountain of beer to explode out of it, directly into Steve’s face.

The can continues to spray out of the top as Robin thrusts it away from herself, opening her mouth to say something only to let the one successful mouthful of beer run down her chin and onto her knees.

No one says a word for five whole seconds as Steve wipes the beer out of his eyes.

Nancy and Eddie are frozen on the lounger across from them. Nancy looks as though she’s not sure if she’s allowed to laugh and her hands are braced on the seat on either side of her to launch herself off the chair at a moment's notice.

Eddie lifts a ringed hand to cover his open mouth, slapping his palm to his face just in time to catch a bark of laughter but not fast enough to cover it completely.

No one can hear it though over Steve trying to catch his breath between gasping hysterical cackles.

“Robin!” he manages to wheeze as he wipes his face with his hands again to remove the last of the beer.

She’s not listening at this point having doubled over, her shoulders heaving in silent laughter as she screams, “I breathed out!”

“Why would you do that?!” Steve splutters as another laugh splits his face into a wide grin, he slides off the lounger and onto the concrete as Robin flops backwards on the seat, holding her stomach as tears stream down her cheeks.

Steve leans over with his hand braced on the lounger and takes a deep breath to slow down the laughter, “Jesus Christ”.

“You’re both absolutely covered in beer,” Nancy says at the same time Eddie crows, “that was fucking awesome Bobs!”

"I can't take you anywhere," Steve breathes out finally as Robin sits up and meets his gaze, looking past him for just a moment before letting her eyes snap back to his face with a wide mischievous grin pulling at her lips.

Steve barely has a moment to really register the look before Robin's bare foot is lifting up to press into his chest with enough force that he's tipping backwards.

Steve manages to squawk, "Robin--" in a strangled voice before he hits the water with a huge splash. Steve kicks out his legs to try and bring himself upright and breaches the surface with a loud gasp.

Steve sputters and whips his hair out of his eyes, taking deep breaths, "what the fuck Robin," he spits out a horrible mouthful of pool water and wipes his face again to see three sets of eyes staring at him.

Eddie stands in between Nancy and Robin, who cackles gleefully at Steve.

"Come on," she giggles, "you were covered in beer, easy solution," she gestures at the pool and shoots him a wink at the offended huff Steve lets out.

"So what's your excuse?" Eddie asks slyly as he lifts his hand to the small of Robin's back and gives her a gentle shove, she opens her mouth in a gasp as she stumbles forward, losing her balance, and falls into the water beside Steve.

Eddie turns to Nancy who crosses her arms at him with a fierce glare.

Steve doesn't understand how he ever thought Nancy Wheeler was some delicate flower with that fire burning behind those blue eyes.

She lifts a single eyebrow which is enough for Eddie to step backwards with a muttered, 'oh shit,' before he's turning towards the pool himself. Steve can't help but laugh as Eddie launches himself into the water in a fairly decent approximation of a cannonball, making the water tip up onto the concrete patio.

Robin swims up beside Steve as Eddie surfaces, whipping his hair around like a dog as Nancy scolds him with a laugh in her voice.

"Did you ever think we'd get here," Robin asks him quietly, her eyes on Nancy as she takes off her sandals and walks around to the ladder on the far side of the pool.

Steve hums, quiet for a beat, as he thinks of the last time he went swimming in this pool with Nancy Wheeler.

The warm summer air and sunlight rail against the cool wind and the blanket of stars in his memory, Tommy and Carol’s jeering is slowly replaced, piece by piece, with Robin’s full belly laughter and the utter joy on Eddie’s face as the beer can exploded.

Barb's face will always be there, lingering in the shadows of his yard, but as Nancy looks at Steve with a new bright smile before tipping her face towards Robin, Steve can't help but wonder if this is how they're supposed to feel at twenty.

"I hoped," he says quietly with a shrug as Robin nods and gently knocks her shoulder into his own.

Robin reaches out and squeezes his hand once under the water before she wades towards Nancy, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes as she goes.

A hand touches Steve’s lower back and slides around to the scarred edge, it tickles lightly as Eddie uses the contact to swing himself like a pendulum until he’s gliding through the water in front of Steve.

The sun warmed water rises in the small wake Eddie creates and Steve can’t help but admire the way the light paints his skin.

“If this is what Harrington parties were like back in the day, I think it's safe to say I am pretty put out having skipped ‘em,” Eddie gives him a lopsided grin as he edges closer.

Steve snorts even as Eddie inches even closer, as his other hand comes up to trace the scars on his other side.

“Nah,” Steve says with a soft smile, from this close he can see the faint freckles across Eddie’s nose, “you didn’t miss much”.

Eddie laughs as he leans in, “well, we got time to make up for it, hey sweetheart?”

Steve closes his eyes as Eddie runs the tip of his nose down his cheek.

They have all the time in the world, and Steve can’t wait.

#afewproblems writes #kind of in line with the microfic challenge prompt pool but this is way too long #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #the fruity four #pool parties #shenanigans #inspired by a tik tok #stranger things #this is soft and silly #they need to learn how to be teens again #this started out as a stupid little thing based on a tik tok and became very sentimental somehow #this is about healing #healing from trauma

95 notes · View notes

kbrick · 7 months

Text

Halloween/Release

Draco had called it The Pilgrimage. He was irreverent, even when talking about Harry’s annual Halloween trip to visit his parents' gravestones. Draco always made Harry feel more human, somehow, like he wasn’t a myth, like he was just a man, his life just a life, his tragedies his own, yes, but otherwise the same as everyone else’s.

Since he’d turned twenty-two, Harry’s visits to Godric's Hollow made him feel like a pioneer, of sorts. He was charting waters his father had never touched. His father had died at twenty-one. Harry had seen decades more than that. He continued to surge ahead with every sunrise, further and further from the man in the photographs that Sirius had left behind.

Harry had a smattering of white whiskers in his beard. He thought about that often, how his father would never have white in his beard, his hair.

When he was a boy, his father seemed like a grownup. Now that Harry was grown, his father seemed little more than a boy. He was frozen in time, encased in wavy glass, the outline of him well known to Harry, the details forever unclear.

The graveyard was the same as ever, silent and cold at this time of year. Harry’s coat was full of warming charms, his hands stuffed into thick mittens that Luna had knitted for him. One of them had an extra thumb. Draco used to shove his hand in the mitten with Harry’s, claiming Luna had made the extra thumb for him, so he could share.

Harry had lived long enough to have a multitude of regrets. Draco was the one that stung the most.

He wondered what his father had regretted, or whether it had all been taken away too soon, before his decisions could be weighed and judged.

He wondered, as ever (for so long now that it felt like a cliché), what his father would think of him, of the man standing here with a salt-and-pepper beard, thick mittens, and scars. He was forever worried about the opinions of the dead; it was a strange way to live.

He knelt in front of the stone. “I still don’t know what I’m doing,” he said quietly, his mitten tracing the J, the A. He laughed at himself. “Did you? Maybe you were better at this than I am. You got mum to marry you, after all. That was smart.” He sighed, lingering on the P. “It’s ridiculous that I still come to you for advice. You probably knew less about life than I do.”

He sat back on the frigid ground, listening to the wind rustling through the sunset-colored leaves that clung stubbornly to their branches. He missed Draco terribly. It had been six months, and the missing wasn’t getting any easier. Surely, it would. It had to.

“It’ll get easier, won’t it?” he asked his father. And then he realized it might not. Losing his parents never had, not really. Maybe it would always feel like this when he thought of Draco.

He shut his eyes and wondered why he couldn’t let go of anything. He couldn’t even let go of a thing he’d never had. He couldn’t stop his heart from clinging jealously to the legacy of a man he couldn’t even remember. Harry could call up images of his father easily, but they were all from photographs. It wasn’t really him. It was a mirage, a dream of a man who had once lived.

Harry was the spitting image of his father, or at least he had been twenty years ago. He was a father’s son who was old enough now to be his father’s father. He came here, year after year, to talk to the wind.

Nothing ever talked back.

“Tell me what to do,” he murmured. “Please.” He shut his eyes tighter, pleading with his father, with god, with whatever might be listening.

“He’d want you to be happy.”

Harry’s eyes flew open at the sound of Draco’s voice, and somehow, there he was, crouching nearby, his nose pink from the cold.

“What?” he managed.

“Your father. He wouldn’t care if you messed up sometimes, or whether you were exactly the sort of man he was. And he wouldn’t want you to wonder what he’d say every time you did anything. He’d just want you to be happy, Harry.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “Why are you here?”

“Because I knew you would be here. Now, come on, let’s get you somewhere warm. It’s freezing outside.”

Harry let Draco pull him to his feet, let him lead the way between stone markers and obelisks. And as he walked through the gates of the cemetery, he had the most profound sense of moving on, moving forward, of steering into uncharted waters.

His father was gone and had been for a long time. But Harry was still here, and he had a lot of life left to live.

#drarry #is this a microfic?#I think so #I'm unclear on the specifics because almost everything I write is way too fucking long to be a microfic #happy halloween #inspired by pearl jam's release #harry potter #james potter #fathers and sons

42 notes · View notes

murderoushagthesequel · 11 months

Text

Snow White

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, hunter (191 words)

i'm all caught up! new microfics will be reelased as usual at 8am scheduled :D ok so i feel like this one needs a bit of explaining. basically it's snow white where regulus is snow white and james is the huntsman. but regulus is trans and james doesn't know this until he meets him. so light CW for accidental misgendering.

James already didn’t know what he was going to do with this assignment. The queen asked him for the princess’ heart. James was a hunter, sure, but for animals, not humans. He didn’t know how he would look somebody in the eye and cut out their heart.

But now, standing before him, in the forest moonlight, he knows there is absolutely no way he can go through with it. Before him stands the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. Skin as pale as snow, and lips as red as blood.

The person before him doesn’t look like the fair princess she was made out to be. Rather, she looks like a prince. Hair cut short and clothes newly tailored. Where once, soft features must have sat is now a sharp jawline and light stubble.

James immediately drops his knife and stares unashamedly at the lost prince.

“I’m James,” he starts. The prince looks up at him. “I was sent here to kill you. What can I do to keep you safe?” The prince responds with only one word before walking away and motioning for James to follow him.

“Regulus.”

64 notes · View notes

diana-bookfairchild · 1 year

Text

@hinnymicrofic May Day 21: Drunk

“Alright, Weasley?” Potter smirked at her. “Not too despairing, I hope? I won’t catch you if you faint.”

“Ha fucking ha, Potter,” Ginny snarled. “Just because your team got this shot doesn’t mean you’ll win. Wait and watch. We’ll be winning today.”

Potter smiled that absolutely infuriating smug smile of his. “You go on dreaming,” he said in a faux soothing voice. “But I have to go fly. And win.”

He flew seemingly erratically and dismantled her teammates’ formation with next to no effort.

Ginny gritted her teeth.

Harry Potter was a legend in quidditch. He’d been selected for his house team in his first year, led Ravenclaw to a victory several times, missed a catch only a handful of times and had been picked as reserve seeker straight out of school by the Pride of Portree before starting for the Ballycastle Bats.

The first time, Ginny had been excited to play him.

That had been before she’d realized what a Merlin damned asshole he was.

Well. Famous prodigy or not, she and her team would beat him and his.

Ginny seized the quaffle mid switch of the Bats’ Chasers. She passed it to Val who passed it back to her right in time and position to score. Fans roared and booed. She turned to Potter and made a violently rude gesture at him.

He only smirked back at her.

For some reason, that sent a shiver down her spine.

The next forty minutes were a deadly dance of taunting and dodging and scoring and flying. Ginny’s blood sang in the air. Flying brought a thrill to her she never got anywhere else, except for from Harry Potter’s scorching glares and mocking.

He seemed to delight in frustrating her. He was edging her, blocking her, ruining her plays ever other second. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unnervingly concentrated on her, despite him always being an active seeker in all his matches.

A Bat scored again, and Potter did a loop-de-loop in celebration before shooting in a slanted line towards the centre of the pitch.

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. The Snitch!

Potter was widely regarded as the best Seeker in the League. Melissa was good, but Ginny wasn’t being cruel when she thought she was no match for him. Their only hope was the score: which was currently two-ten to sixty in the Harpies’ favour.

If Potter caught the Snitch, they would lose.

Ginny dove down, and her stomach dropped and rose all at once at the terror and thrill and joy of the act. She buzzed the opposing chaser, nearly Blatched another, grabbed the quaffle and threw it at the hoops.

It was a long shot – but the keeper had been distracted by the Snitch chase and the quaffle sailed through the left hoop right as Potter’s fist closed around the Snitch.

The spectators roared. There was a great deal of confusion. But finally, the referee declared the Holyhead Harpies to be the winners.

Ginny whooped as she took her victory lap. Her eyes met Potter’s, and she tilted her head towards him cockily. His gaze was burning. Hate and, somehow, admiration. Ginny’s heart flipped unnaturally, and she ignored it as she sped towards her celebrating teammates.

She spent the next few hours at the Holyhead unofficial pub, getting congratulated and mobbed by fans and drunk with her teammates. Vision blurring a little – she’d perhaps had one drink too many – she flooed to the nearest public floo point to her apartment.

Her head spun as she walked back home, dazed and drunk on joy and alcohol.

“Weasley,” came a slurred voice. “If it isn’t the bloody heroine of the hour.”

Ginny turned. If she was drunk, Harry Potter was completely plastered. His hair was more of a rat’s nest than usual, his features were slack, but his green eyes were as blazing as ever.

“Potter. Why, here to expend your Loser’s Lurgy?” She instantly regretted referring to one of Luna’s wild stories. To her surprise, Potter just barked a laugh.

“You’re friends with Luna too, huh?” She stared. Why the hell had she never told Ginny Luna was friends with Quidditch Star Harry Potter? “Nothing like that. Mates an’ me got drunk, and Dad and Mum and Sirius will never let me hear the end of it if I go to them, and Hermione would kill me for drinking dangerously. And Nev’s out of town. So just. . . Wandering ‘round.”

In one sentence Potter had told her more than she ever wanted to know about his life.

“Like I wanted to know, Potter,” she jeered. She turned to go.

“You asked, Weasley.” Came his teasing voice. Ginny pressed her eyes shut furiously. She supposed she had. “Not going to bitch or gloat about your win?”

“Me, gloat?” Ginny’s voice was taut as she went and pressed her finger to his chest. He just smiled at her, giving her that damned smugly superior look she hated. “Says Harry Potter, the sorest winner in the whole world!”

Potter laughed incredulously. “Coming from Ginevra Weasley, the most morally superior too good for everyone player?”

“The worst—”

“Bloody crazy and arrogant—”

“Infuriating asshole—”

“Self-righteous shrew with attitude problems—”

“Smirking like the bloody devil himself, why are you so—” Ginny breathed heavily. “So incredibly good at quidditch—”

“And why are you so. . . .” Potter’s voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “So. . . so fucking pretty?”

Their eyes met. And the next moment, they were kissing.

Potter kissed like a storm. He kissed her like she was the last thing left on earth. He kissed her like she was water in a desert.

Gasping, they tore away from each other as someone called at them to get a room.

This was a terrible idea.

Her brothers would encourage it, which was a warning all in itself. Her parents would be very sternly horrified. They were on opposite teams, facing in the league.

She didn’t care.

He was a drug she wanted to get high, delirious, drunk on.

This was a terrible idea.

“My apartment’s that way,” she said.

#hinny #hinny microfic #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #harry james potter #ginny weasley #rivals with benefits #rivals to lovers #got a little too long #oops #seventh in a row!!!#alternate universe #Have a LOT of thoughts about this AU #Last one for a bit

76 notes · View notes

seriouslysam8 · 1 year

Text

May Prompt #8: Divination for @hinnymicrofic

“Did you ever do palm readings in Divination?” Ginny asked, taking Harry’s hand in hers and tracing her finger along the lines on his palm.

Harry snorted. “I guess, yeah.”

“Some of the girls on the team were reading palms today,” Ginny said in a causal tone, pulling his palm closer to her. “They read something very interesting on my palm, so I wanted to see if it said the same thing on yours.”

Harry entertained her, his eyebrows quirking up above his glasses. “Oh? What did they read on your palm?”

Ginny’s lips curved. “Well, my palm said I was going to have a baby in the month of April.”

Harry stilled, his eyes watching Ginny carefully. “Really?”

Ginny moved his hand to her belly. “Congratulations, your palm says the same thing.”

“Err, all right. That’s… good, I guess?” Harry replied.

“Harry.”

“Gin?”

“Don’t be thick like Ron,” Ginny commented.

Harry just blinked at her. “Wait, are you telling me you’re pregnant because you took a test or because your palm said it? Because your answer will affect my reaction.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I took a test, Harry. You’re going to be a dad.”

It took a few moments for the words sink in. A wide grin slowly spread across his face.

“Really?” he whispered, splaying his fingers across her belly.

“Yes, really, you dolt!” Ginny said in a teasing tone, her eyes alit with laughter.

Harry bent down to press his lips against hers. Her hands cupped his face but Harry kept his planted firmly on her stomach, where their baby was.

“That was the worst possible way to tell me,” Harry mumbled against her lips.

Ginny only laughed. “Should we read palms and see if it’s twins?”

Harry chuckled. “I think I’ll leave that bit to a Healer.”

“Come on, just for fun! Give me your hand back!” Ginny insisted.

#hinny microfic #guess who’s back #it’s been too long since I wrote a microfic

103 notes · View notes

writer-of-sorts · 1 year

Text

written with @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: train

The stranger on the train is dressed in ripped jeans, a black undershirt and a leather jacket, with heavy mascara lining his eyelids and a row of piercings lining his ears.

Despite his punk appearance, the man undeniably has the air of an aristocrat. He sits straight-backed and prim, one knee crossed over the other. A sketchbook rests atop the expensive-looking bag tucked against his side.

When Remus approaches him, the stranger looks up. The long hair curtaining his face draws back, revealing alabaster skin, sharp cheekbones, full lips and soulful grey eyes.

Quite frankly, Remus thinks this stranger is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Which is exactly why Remus stutters incoherently before proceeding to trip over his own lanky legs and swear like a sailor as he goes crashing down to the floor of the train compartment.

Except he’s not crashing down to the floor. Because there is a pair of very strong leather-clad arms holding him up.

Said arms straighten Remus’ body and then drop as he comes face-to-face with his savior. His very attractive savior, who just witnessed Remus nearly fall flat on his face.

Remus feels his cheeks grow hot as embarrassment washes over him.

“Es-tu blessé?” the stranger asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

And now Remus feels hot for an entirely different reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it wordlessly.

“Oh,” the man says. He smiles sheepishly. “Are you alright?” he asks, with just the faintest trace of an accent as he rolls his mouth around the r’s.

“Yes,” Remus breathes. He clears his throat. “My name is Remus, and” —he points to the empty seat across from the man— “I believe that is my seat.”

The stranger flashes a genuine smile, and Remus’ heart soars. “Sirius Black. Please sit down.”

word count: 300

70 notes · View notes

mundrakan · 1 year

Text

Prompt: Loveable

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius is nothing if not dramatic, James often thinks – and yet, he has never seen him like this, dissolving in tears, sniffing and hiccuping, while he desperately tries to keep his breathing even. “Oh for Merlin's sake, what is it?”

“I asked Marlene out, and she declined.”

James frowns. “You aren't even interested in her.”

“Then I asked Mary – she declined.”

At this point James merely rolls his eyes. This is not even worth a comment – and explains nothing about the current situation.

“I also asked... Lily.”

“Who of course declined.” Or James would be really annoyed.

“Yeah. Of course. But I asked her about Dorcas. And...”

“Yeah, I get it.” James sat next to Sirius trying to figure out what was the actual point. “So?”

“None of them finds me... loveable. They won't even give me a chance.”

“Why is that important? You don't want any of them.”

“How do you figure?”

“Pads...” James pats his shoulder gently. “Honestly. I know you for how long? Go and ask the one you actually want.”

“Can't do.”

“Why not?!”

“Couldn't handle it.”

James wants to hit his head against the wall. But at least Sirius is realistic. “And what if I?”

“Don't you dare speak one word to Moony, or I'll...”

“Oh...”

They both halt, looking at each other in shock. “Moony?”

“You didn't know?”

It's enough to stop them both in their tracks and make them look at the closed curtains of a certain bed.

#wolfstar microfic #264 words #too long for my own liking

65 notes · View notes

apus-neverstoplooking · 10 months

Text

Mine

August 11, Prompt: Jealous. 486 words, cw: mentions of sex but none shown. @jegulus-microfic

Regulus knows what he’s doing.

He and James had been playing this game for a while now. Dancing around one another. Looking, flirting, teasing. Trying to make the other give in. Admit how much they want the other and Regulus is tired of it, but he refuses to lose.

They had never actually flirted with someone else. It’s not like they weren’t allowed, there were no set rules and until someone lost they didn’t owe each other anything. Regulus just doesn’t want anyone else and would much rather spend his time teasing James. But regulus has a games to win.

So that’s why he finds himself at the bar with his and his brothers friends. Wearing a mesh cropped shirt that Pandora picked out with body glitter and eyeliner. He’s sitting on a stool flirting with some random guy who bought him a drink.

Out his perifial vision he sees James glaring at them from across the dance floor.

He puts a carefully calculated hand on the guys shoulder and rubs down his arm. He whispers into the guys ear and he nods so Regulus pulls back to lead him onto the dance floor.

He doesn’t know the song that’s playing but he can figure out the beats and rhythm pretty quickly. He throws his head back and starts moving his hips in time with the music.

He sneaks a glance over to James who now has his jaw clenched.

It’s working.

The guys puts a hand on his bare hips and starts moving with him.

James had him hands balled up tight in a fist, his legs tapping impatiently.

Regulus takes a subtle step back and puts his hands in front of him while whatever his name was puts both hands on him. The hands start to wander and Regulus is about to step away when he feels a hand pull him away. He snaps his eyes open to find a very livid James.

He’s dragged into the bathroom and pushed against the door before being kissed roughly.

“You think you’re cute? Flirting with random guys for everyone to see? Letting him touch you. What, were you going to let him fuck you too?” James grumbles against his lips as he pulls away.

“Aww is Jamie jealous?” Regulus teases.

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Who said I’m yours? Because you certainly haven’t said anything.”

James grabs his chin and forces Regulus to look him in the eye.

“Mine.”

He kisses him.

“Mine.”

Again.

“You’re mine.”

He kisses him again.

“And who do you belong to?” Regulus cocks his head.

“You.”

Regulus just raises a brow in response

“I’m yours, and only yours.”

“So prove it.” Regulus smirks up at him.

And he did. A few hours later, thoroughly debauched and exhausted but so very aware of where they stand with one another Regulus whispers 2 words into James bruise covered neck.

“I won.”

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jealousy #sunseeker #starchaser #jegulus microfic #mauraders era #this is actually a microfic #I was thinking about writing the smut but it would’ve been too long so lmk if you want it #pls enjoy

52 notes · View notes

soloorganaas · 1 year

Text

Cupid

A tempest of emotions is still swirling between them, its force only growing with their futile attempts to push it aside because of everything they have to focus on right now. The world is falling apart around them and there’s no room for mistakes. Not again.

The shadow of the past is indiscriminate though, and longing born of thirteen years of separation is dragging them helplessly towards one another.

Then one night they come within a hair’s breadth of finding each other again, stretched out under the stars on the rooftop of Grimmauld Place in a rare escape from the ruckus below. Perhaps it’s the calm that emphasises everything so unfair still pushing them apart, the moment of intimacy that clarifies how much they need to do this together.

But suddenly they’re staring silently at each other and Remus can see the Cupid’s bow atop Sirius’s fuller, healthier lips trembling and he just can’t help himself.

“Moony,” Sirius pleads under his breath, so quiet it’s barely discernible through the autumn breeze.

Remus leans closer, closer, so close he can feel the achingly familiar warmth of Sirius’s breath, smell the dust of the house on his skin, and something underneath it all so rich, so dangerous, so utterly made for him it’s unthinkable he could ever live without it again.

Then a crash from the loft below shakes through the rafters, Ron and Harry’s shouts echoing into the night, and Remus’s whole body sinks with a mournful sigh. He lets his head rest on Sirius’s shoulder for a brief moment, before he pulls himself away without meeting his eyes.

“Come on. Better go see what’s happened now.”

@wolfstarmicrofic

#look do i sometimes write like an overly dramatic trashy cishet fantasy romance novelist yes yes i do #but sometimes the moment calls for it #there was another (happier) part to this but it was getting too long #so i guess that’s a post for tomorrow #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #otp: i’m mental about you #hp

58 notes · View notes

blitheringmcgonagall · 2 years

Text

@jilytoberfest so the plan is to write microfics every day for Jilytober- all a part of a single story… this one got way way too long 😬😬😂😂… (and I may mix up these and @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world’s prompts, depending on what fits!)

Those Smitten Idiots

Prompt #1: “Smile!”

“For the last time, Sirius, I’m not going to the fucking Hallowe’en Ball with Alphonsus St.John Diggory!” Lily repeated.

Her cheeks had gone blotchy from the suppressed irritation, and she was practically whisper-shouting, which was potentially a total disaster. Seeing as this entire… situation depended on nobody finding out he was the brains behind Operation Smitten Idiots.

“Shush!” Sirius muttered tetchily, scanning the horizon for the twin dangers of James Potter or (potentially worse still) Remus Lupin.

Lily’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth indignantly to protest.

“Do not- “

“Don’t embarrass the poor chap! Not his fault that he’s been turned down by thirteen girls in a row!”

“Thirteen?”

Sirius nodded, adding in a sad huff at the end.

“He’s heartbroken.”

Lily rolled her eyes.

“Well, you’d think- “ she began.

“He failed his DADA exam. And his Charms test.”

Lily hesitated.

“And… his cat died. So did his owl. And his rabbit.”

Sirius grimaced. Okay, so that might be pushing it.

“No way?” Lily looked at him with horror. “The poor fella!”

“Yes, yes, dreadful stuff… caught him shedding bitter tears in the boys’ loos beside Minnie’s office. Bawling.”

He was, in fact, pretty sure that Alphonsus St.John Diggory had never shed a single tear in his entire, boring, perfect life. He was, however, an excellent Quidditch player, and good-looking to boot. Sirius Black might have been forced to call in a few favours for him in order to set this all up…

He could practically see her relenting.

“Don’t say a word though, he’d be mortified. Asked me not to breathe a word to anyone.”

“And he knows I’m only agreeing to go as a friend?” Lily bit her lower lip.

“Of course, I expressly warned him that I’d murder him if he so much as looked at you funny and- “

“Oh shut up, poor guy, imagine having to listen to your drivel when three of his pets died,” she said, her face taking on a determined expression.

Just then, James Fleamont “I could have asked Evans to the ball and we all know she’d have said yes immediately but I’m either an idiot or a spineless coward so I didn’t bother” Potter walked into the great hall. Wearing his dress robes which Sirius had secretly charmed to cling to his shoulders and back and chest like a certain quidditch uniform which Lily Evans was want to stare at. Lily’s mouth - as if on cue - hung open.

“Six. Six pets. I forgot to mention his pet lambs,” he said, taking her arm and walking in the direction of Himbo Diggory.

“Six?” Her eyebrows shot up and she tore herself away from staring at his useless best friend. “Lambs?”

Only Prongs was now rooted to the spot like a pillar of salt, or a giant stunned Pygmy Puff.

“Seven, if you count his pet rat, which I wasn’t.”

“You… what? How very DARE you!” Peter Pettigrew yelped in alarm.

“They’re highly intelligent animals!” Lily and Peter shouted in unison.

“Well, whatever,” he sniffed, smoothing out his dress robes. “I suppose it’s a loss.. used sleep next to his bed, near the rabbit… and the cat.”

“OMG!” Lily elbowed him rudely. “The poor guy!”

She straightened her shoulders, took one last forlorn glance at the useless article with the messy hair, took a deep breath, and tapped the himbo on the shoulder. Got to hand it to Evans, she has guts, he thought.

“Hi Alphonsus,” she said, trying to stretch her lips upwards.

“Hello, Miss Evans,” the guy said, looking over her shoulder at Sirius and winking far too dramatically.

He mimed zipping up his mouth and cutting his throat for good measure. Alphonsus frowned but nodded, looking slightly more subdued.

“A dance?” Alphonsus said, giving Lily a pitying look.

“Of course.”

“Smile!” Cressida Creevy waved her arm wildly before taking the shot.

“What the absolute fuck?” James Potter finally asked, gulping down an entire glass of fire whisky in one go and grabbing a second one.

“No idea, old chap,” he said, elegantly sipping some wine and raising the glass at the couple. “I think he fancies her, and nobody asked her, so she said yes. Has a thing for Quidditch players, apparently.”

His friend said nothing, tugged at his bird’s nest hair, and muttering distraught expletives under his breath.

“Why, you weren’t planning on asking Evans, were you? I thought you were, and I quote, just good friends?”

The reply was in gibberish, although in fairness Prongs was choking on his fire whisky at the time.

“All good, so?” he said, whacking Prongs twice on the back for good measure. “Splendid. Well, enjoy the night, they certainly seem to be.”

Alphonsus patted Lily on the shoulder in a comforting fashion as they glided by. She smiled back fondly.

“Probably discussing some personal problems, a problem shared is a problem halved, and all that,” he supplied helpfully.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Prongs hacked up a lung.

Sirius wandered off. Prongs picked up an entire bottle of fire whisky.

“Parfaitement joué,” Sirius smiled to himself. “And onto plan number two…”

#fluff and idiocy #jilytober #jilytober2022 #jilytoberfest #Sirius black is the best wingman #this started off as a microfic #but grew a bit too much #Jily microfics #jily #so the plan is #one long story in tiny snippets #one for each day #YouBlitheringIdiot is me and these two also

76 notes · View notes

thereaderarchive · 1 year

Text

ch.46: Bigger than me

• for @drarrymicrofic prompt: Bigger than me by Louis Tomlinson ♫ (sept‘22) | words: 1511 | all chapters / prev / next

This is long, Ron-centric and yet, if you have read the previous chapters, only possible thanks to Harry and Draco during 8th year, so... sorry if it's a weird drarry microfic, please ignore if it doesn't fit the rules. Give ch.37 a quick read for context.

"Do you ever ask why it's not black and white?" (Louis Tomlinson).

Ron lives in a delicate balance for a while after the war. There is hope, big expectations and, a second later, hopelessness, a space forever emptied inside his heart. Oh, he can go on about his day, but it hurts every step of the way. He is maimed and can't even start to imagine how it is for his mum... or George.

He is quite lucky, he knows. Order of Merlin and the only glory that counted when one was a kid: your face in a chocolate frog card. He is celebrated by Cannon players, he is loved by the girl he loves, and he is alive- he even got his NEWTs. He worked for them! And now he is ready: He will become an Auror, he will stop all of this from happening again, he will do whatever it takes for kids not to fight dark wizards, and for brothers to never be separated. He will... with his best friend.

Expectations aren't reality, however. Harry left after their first day.

"I can do it- I simply don't want to anymore, Ron," he says. And what is he going to say back? "Don't leave me alone"? Harry deserves peace, more than anyone else he knows. So Ron hugs him tight (they do that now). He will never miss the chance to hug one of his brothers ever again.

Neville is with him, so that's okay. There are more recruits now than in previous decades, it sounds good on paper, but in reality, they are all former kid soldiers. Neville, Dean, Lavender, Alicia, Cho, Hannah, Parvati, Terry.

He trains hard and studies harder. He proves his place. He will be the one to protect them now.

Training is tedious and surrounded by bothersome secrecy. He's magically prevented from telling Harry or Hermione why he can't move his arm for a week, that he has a curse now, "Just for practice so you kids know how things are on the field!" Savage chirped, all broad smile the bloody bastard, as if he didn't know how it is in a war.

When Hermione asks, his mouth says: "I drank too much and fell down the stairs", his tongue tied by a bloody curse. His mum hears and demands to know who are these drinking companions, probably to ask his dad to keep an eye on them because Harry would have never let him hurt himself. Harry whispers that he would have, and they laugh before being scolded. His meal portion is smaller than usual.

Two years later, he's finally a junior, still in training (Merlin, when will that be over?), but now he can help instruct the recruits, and that's exciting. Things are falling into place, too: Harry has just opened his bakery, Hermione is advancing in her career, and he's waiting for the right time to propose. Then Malfoy enters the picture. He's slandered by his peers.

Something you need to know about the Aurors Academy is that is not the place for blooming friendship and companionship, half the time Ron thinks they want you to quit. In the past, he wouldn't have cared, but his best friend protected the ferret, so when the other Aurors and trainees voice that Malfoy should be "rotting away in Azkaban", they are talking against Harry's better judgement, and none of them was there as they did. Only the senior Aurors train with Malfoy -they have to, not that it keeps their mouths shut- until Ron gives the first step. Such a grown-up. Maybe Hermione would find him sexy if she knew. He can't tell her, but the thought helps him through the days.

"You're using too much force, mate," he says. Malfoy turns pink-eared, and Ron expects him to fight back, he's been waiting for his reaction every day since he arrived all proper and mute in the grim training rooms, but Malfoy doesn't say a thing. His lips are thin and white, tightly pressed together before trying again slower. It's not what he should do, so Ron explains again. Fast and delicate, precise, until the movements become natural.

Months later, training together develops into eating bagels together because well, Ron deserves to treat himself after leaving thousands of puddles of sweat on the training room's floor and studying until he wants to take his eyes out of their sockets and place them on ice water. They add some pints months after that, it goes well with food, nothing else. Malfoy is quieter than before and Ron only wants to punch him 15% of the time they spend together. He is still a right arse when he opens his mouth, but most of the time it's because he's a posh git.

In retrospect, he should have known it would happen. He was so convinced he was going to be partnered with Nev that he never even thought that being the only one willing to practice and hang out with Malfoy would make him THE sole candidate for the partnership.

He should be grateful to have a partnership before graduating, the senior Aurors said. And Ron did say he wanted to be treated as everyone else. What was he thinking?! He hates it. One thing is doing what Harry would, another is having to spend every single working hour of the rest of his career with Malfoy, who is still a complete git, chips and pints notwithstanding. He's a clean freak, for starters, and no one can touch his things, even if the item in question is a little paper scrap forgotten on the table for a whole week.

The graduation ceremony is formal and quick. Dawlish hands his charcoal Auror robes (no more trainee-maroon) and badge, then Head Auror Robards himself informs them he's graduated with First Class Honours, which doesn't mean much, but Hermione's eyes are wide as saucers, and Harry and Seamus (invited by Dean) wolf whistle until they are given disapproving glances. He's taken for pictures and when he finally joins his friends, Harry is glancing in every direction like Pig when he suspects there is bacon for breakfast.

"Yeah, a bit depressing, innit? I suppose half the secrecy is due to the fact this place hasn't been cleaned in centuries," Ron says examining the grim offices he'll be occupying officially now.

Hermione snorts, sipping her drink. "Oh, Ron, he is not looking desperately at the decor."

"I'm not looking desperately at anything," Harry hisses, frowning at Hermione.

"Right. Someone explain."

"Trust me, mate, you won't believe me, but I saw Draco Malfoy," Harry whispers.

"You believe you saw something white-blond by the corner of your eye, Harry," Hermione clarifies.

"Yeah, Malfoy!"

"Draco Malfoy at the Aurors' graduating ceremony?" She deadpans.

"That's- um- well... he will, eventually. Now that you mention it- maybe I should tell you that- we- willy- Gillyweed has many potential side-effects on the respiratory system than can last up to three months after an excessive intake," he recited, lips moving and forming words he hadn't meant to say. So the spell is still in place, bloody hell.

"Malfoy is an Auror?" Harry asks, ignoring the Gillyweed information Ron didn't know he knew, rude. Hermione seems a tad impressed. Maybe that's wishful thinking.

Ron wonders if he can answer, the charm goes from unimportant information to embarrassing secrets if you keep pushing it. It should be a curse. "Training to be."

"Oh," Harry says. There is a shy smile on his lips.

"That's... unexpected," Hermione musses.

"Why?" Harry asks, frowning, defying in his voice while he turns to Hermione. "I'm sure he wanted to clear his name. And he should be good at it if he's been accepted, right? Is he? Any good, I mean?" He says, eyes on Ron.

"In reality, maroon isn't my colour," Ron says instead of 'I can't fucking speak about it, you pillock'.

"No, it isn't," Hermione agrees. "And it's unexpected because he wasn't in the NEWTs classes needed," she admonished. "I'm sure he's good at it if he's graduating. Anyway, perhaps he wasn't the blonde thing you saw. I do wonder if it's been tough- Aurors weren't exactly pleasant to him that day at his trial," she turns to Ron now. Harry is worrying his lip.

"I made a gnome explode when I was five! He'd stolen my sandwich! I wanted him to trip, not explode!" Ron's mouth says. "Bloody hell! Let's change the topic, shall we?" He can't say the Aurors had been arseholes with Malfoy, that they are on friendly terms and that he is his partner. "He's in good hands," Ron manages to say when he notices Harry fidgeting.

Neville, Lavender, Dean and Parvati join them accompanied by a singing Seamus wearing Dean's brand new badge, which is against the law, but who cares. They are a happy and chaotic bunch, life is good they are the group Ron wants to work with to make their world better. He is so distracted by their plans to keep celebrating for the night that he doesn't notices when Harry disappears from the group.

Read chapter 58 to know where Harry was / what happens next.

#where did harry go you ask? WHERE DO YOU THINK?!#he was rapidly becoming obsessed with draco malfoy #drarry microfic #romione #drarry drabble #this is too long i'm sorry i just love ron very much #drarry #thereaderarchive writes #giving in to the love

7 notes · View notes

star-named-riddle · 2 years

Text

in the smallest pieces (there was still us)

Do you know where else there's them? in smut, which this one is

I mean a pure, juicy lemon, AKA shameless smut, also PWP

Obviously NSFW

Day 24 - Popsicle

Bellatrix looked up, making sure to keep her hooded eyelids as low as she could, so as to look at her Master through her eyelashes.

He gasped, then gulped. His legs squirmed beneath her arms.

She licked him again. Then again.

He hissed.

She wrapped her hands around him, increasing the pressure, and wrapped her lips around the very tip of him. She pressed her tongue against it, and resumed licking him to the edge of frustration.

She twirled her tongue around his head, one hand at the base of the shaft, holding him still, the other dragging the back of her fingers up and down, teasing him further.

This was a dangerous game. And if his strangled breath was any indication she was currently ahead.

All along she kept her eyes on his face, refusing to do any more beyond licking.

Lord Voldemort moved a hand to the back of her head, his fingers diving into her curls. He held on, but did not push himself into her. The other hand went white-knuckled on the arms of the chair.

“That’s not a popsicle, you minx,” he managed through gritted teeth.

Bella wrapped her mouth around him once more, took as much of him as she could, and held him there, suckling.

She removed her mouth suddenly, delighting in his frustrated moaning, and let go of him entirely.

Not a popsicle, her Master had said.

She stood up, discarding her underwear in two swift moves, and climbed astride of him.

His hands flew to her waist, pulling her down, his hips pushing up as hers bore down, her hands making sure they’d fit together. She shook her head, knowing he’d be entranced by the sway of her black hair. She used the distraction it provided to gain control of their rhythm, of their angle.

Lord Voldemort threw his head back, exposing his throat to her. She scattered shallow kisses upon it, and all the while she moved until she, too, was moaning.

She had won the game, this time. And he was sure to get even.

Read all of this on AO3

Thank (or blame) @wolfstarmicrofic

#lord voldemort #bellatrix lestrange #bellamort #bellamort microfic #shameless smut #pwp #bellatrix x voldemort #hp fanfic #so i made another prompt naughty #smut happens #don't judge me it was only fair to do the same for voldie #is this too long to be a microfic?#absolutely but i'm past caring

10 notes · View notes

siriustar8 · 5 months

Text

Headache - @jegulus-microfic - 235 words

Regulus had the worst migraines ever.

Whenever he as much as passed by a crowd of loud gryffindors, walked the grounds when it's sunny, or played a long match of quidditch, he always ended up with his head pounding and eyes watering, unable to move or speak. He would need complete silence, as little light as possible, and a long nap.

When he started dating James, extroverted cheery bubbly James, he thought he would need to keep his distance whenever his temples started to hurt.

But to his surprise, the moment he mentionned having a headache in the middle of the Halloween party, James dropped everything and pulled him gently towards his dorm room.

He closed the curtains, fluffed up the pillows, and pushed Regulus softly on the bed before tucking him in.

"Would you like me to stay with you, or do you prefer being alone?"

"James, it's fine. You can go back to your party. I'll just sleep it off."

The frown on James' face was too adorable, when he responded:

"Baby, that's not what I asked you."

Regulus couldn't deny that the mere thought of his head on James' chest already made the tension in his head lighter, so he pulled his boyfriend by the sleeve and settled next to him, content despite the pain.

Honestly, Regulus should've known that James would be considerate and lovely. It was James after all.

2K notes · View notes

starboy-sirius · 21 days

Text

may 9 | captivate | @jegulus-microfic | 671 words

Regulus enters the party with one goal: to captivate.

He struts through the painting, the Fat Lady complimenting him as he does so. “My, you look wonderful, dear. Trying to impress someone in particular?”

He hums, a smirk growing on his lips. “Maybe.”

The Fat Lady’s eyes twinkle at him. “Good luck to you, dear.”

Barty and Evan are on either side of him, towering over him like barking bodyguards ready to glare and bite anyone who dares to get too close. After all, Regulus isn’t trying to gain everyone’s attention. He’s after one boy and one boy only. Barty and Evan, who have watched him fail time and time again to seduce the oblivious and stupidly loyal Gryffindor, were all for Regulus’ new plan.

“Ready for this, Reggie?” Barty croons, winding one of Regulus’ curls around his index finger.

“Honestly, if Potter doesn’t get the hint after this I’ll fuck you stupid instead,” Evan smirks, eyeing Regulus up and down appreciatively.

Barty glances over at him, smouldering eyes on fire as they dart between his boyfriend and his best friend. He can't say the idea hasn’t crossed his mind once or a thousand times. “Well, now I’m hoping he doesn’t get the hint.”

“Slut,” Evan purrs.

Regulus rolls his eyes at them, but a small grin does grace his lips. “I’m going to need you two to have more faith in this outfit.”

“More faith?” Barty exclaims. “I was the one who designed this little get up, thank you very much. It’ll work, trust me.”

Evan hums. “Maybe we can get Potter on board with the whole thing.”

They walk into the Gryffindor common room, the party in full swing with people already drunk and disorderly. Some are smoking by the tower windows, their eyes ringed red and their giggles floating around in the air with the smoke. Sirius, Remus and James are sitting with their usual gang of friends on the sofas by the lit fireplace.

It’s safe to say that everyone’s eyes turn Regulus’ way when he enters. Barty smirks triumphantly.

Regulus is wrapped in lace, his entire torso on display as it peeks through the leafy patterns on the lace top. His creamy skin causes quite the stir at the party, no one daring to dress as seductively as this. He has more skin on show than anyone has ever seen of him before, the long sleeves falling down and hooking over his middle fingers. His long, lean legs are enclosed in sheer trousers that shimmer whenever he walks, making him look like pure sex as he walks in and comes to a halt, eyes searching for the boy he came here for.

His eyes, thanks to Evan, are lined with a sharp wing of black kohl, bringing out the silver in his eyes and making them look pearlescent. His lips are rosy and shiny, giving the impression that he’s been biting them, or that someone else has been licking and biting them for him. He looks delectable.

Regulus meets the brown of James Potter’s eyes and lifts one corner of his lips up, eyes glittering like his namesake. James stares at him with a gaping mouth, his entire body frozen as if Regulus has stolen all the breath from his lungs. Sirius is adamantly trying to get his attention, his own grey eyes flickering between his brother and his best friend, trying desperately to understand what is going on. James ignores him, solely focused on Regulus.

So much so, that when Regulus raises a hand and beckons James over with a crook of his finger, James is stumbling upwards like a newborn deer and tripping over himself to get as close to Regulus as he can. He’s blushing as he walks over, hands fluttering at his sides giving away his nerves.

Regulus grins like a shark and leans into Barty, listening as his friend whispers, “Mission accomplished.”

“Well,” Regulus hums. “The night is young. Maybe Evan will get what he wants by the end of it.”

841 notes · View notes