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veryinnovative · 23 days

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little microfic for crop top james fest <3 happy birthday to my favorite orange cat. @croptopjames wc: 447. not explicit but dirty thoughts + talk.

It’s downright sinful how James prances about in the bustling living room of his shared flat with Sirius, body-packed and lively with the inebriated movements of twenty people or so raising the nth toast to celebrate his birthday. The mixed drinks are more liquor than anything else, concocted true to Mary’s diabolical taste since passing out drunk and enduring a three-day-long hangover has become a tradition following Lily’s 'sweet twenty-teen' ordeal. Yet, it isn't just the three shots worth of vodka and a hint of cranberry juice that fills Regulus’ mouth with a sour-bitter tang, no. It’s James, wholly James — sun-sculpted with the bodily proportions carved by God himself.

With every movement, the muscles of his revealed abdomen undulate, his skin left revealed beneath the hem of his crop top that stops just below the swell of his chest. As Regulus’ eyes zero in on the piece of shining metal on James’ navel, he finds himself needing another sip to prevent his thoughts from drifting further away, to the dangerous, lust-filled dreamscapes of dipping his tongue deep in James Potter’s fucking belly button. He knows what that feels like, to have the cold metal press against his tongue, nose buried in the dark dusting of hair that trails down the center. Has done it more than a dozen times.

And James knows. Of course, he fucking does. He arches his back just so when leaning across the pool table and smiles innocently when his nipples pebble underneath Regulus’ heated gaze. So, it’s no surprise to either of them when he ends up dragged away from the party to his bedroom, roughly shoved into the unmade bed that serves as an invitation for Regulus all the same. The sheets still carry both of their scents from the morning, the center still slightly damp where they had been tangled a couple of hours ago.

James stretches out underneath him, long and languid, bronze skin pulled taut around the ladder of his ribs, urging Regulus to climb them into heavenly ascension. And he will. He fucking will. Especially when he bats up his lashes at him, head lazily lolling to the side.

“I’m going to fuck you, James,” Regulus grits out. “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

James grins, an edge of manic to his eyes as he grabs Regulus by the front of his shirt and drags him into a bruising kiss. “Yeah?” he breathes out into Regulus’ parted mouth, hand reaching out to palm where he’s hard and trapped in his pants. “Put this cock inside of me?”

“And so much more,” Regulus promises against his lips before slipping his hand behind the elastic band of James’ joggers.

#croptopjamesfest #ino microfic tag!#jegulus #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #i coulda written the smut. i could have #but im gonna continue with deadlines #they fuck but james' crop top stays on btw

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sweetmoonlight7 · 20 days

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30. Diamond

@jegulus-microfic | March 30: diamond | word count: 619

If there was one thing that Regulus Black was known for it was being picky.

James has been thinking about this for months, even now as he walks back to their apartment he can't help but think about it.

Regulus had grown up in a fancy house in London with butlers and people who were willing to adhere to his every whim. This of course makes him, frankly at times, a very spoiled boy. While he had grown out of some of his habits from childhood, one thing neither of the Black brothers could ever outgrow was their expensive taste.

James has never minded this, he knew about all of the things that Regulus liked well before they got together. He loves Regulus and is more than happy to indulge him with all of those things.

This all tied into his dilemma.

Since he has never shied away from buying Regulus gifts. It's one of his many love languages. If he sees something that Regulus might like he will immediately buy it and give it to him, he won't even wait for a birthday or special occasion.

One of the things he will often buy for Regulus is jewelry. His boyfriend loves it, he trades out rings, necklaces, and earrings.

So what do you give your significant other that has a large assortment of rings (a lot of which) you buy for him yourself) each just as fancy as the next for an engagement ring?

This has been driving him crazy.

There are of course a few things that he knows. Like that he wants to get it engraved so that even if it is not custom-made it will be special, he knows it has to be silver, and he knows that it should not be overly flashy.

At the moment his biggest dilemma is what stone he will use. A diamond? no, too classic and boring. Pearl? too simple. Alexandirat? no blue wasn't either of their colors. Birth month stone? Basic. Opal, Emerald, Topaz… nothing seemed right. Nothing screamed, “Regulus Black I love you, marry me”.

He has seen hundreds of rings by now. Passed by so many jewelry stores, and had seen rings that Regulus would love…so why can't he seem to pick one?

Realistically James is aware that regardless of the ring that he gets him he will say yes. But how could he propose if he doesn't even know what stone Regulus would want? Isn't there some sort of guide or rule that says they should know?

The longer he waits the more reasons he comes up with as to why Regulus might say no and it becomes all too clear why he is having a hard time picking a stone. If he doesn't ask he doesn't get rejected.

Maybe taking the long way home wasn't doing any good to his overthinking. But Regulus had said that he would be home late and he thought the day was nice enough to go out.

The thoughts lay heavy on his stomach as he opened the door to their apartment.. and then almost like they had never even existed they vanished as he stepped in.

In the middle of their living room with flowers scattered around him and the light from the dining room hitting his face stood Regulus with a small box in his hand. He was smiling, a full real smile. Something that had been so rare when they met but he was now blessed with every day.

When he looks down at the ring in the box, he sees the complementary ring to the first one he had gotten Regulus, he knows that there is no world where Reg would've said no, or even hesitated.

#james potter #regulus black #jegulus #marauders #starchaser #james potter x regulus black #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #jegulus fanfiction

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shares-a-vest · 6 months

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Prompt: Blood (Discord Drabble) tw: blood (obvi) - aka, Steve cuts himself shaving and Twilight-inspired vampire!Eddie is not chill about it. I'm gearing myself up to write total nonsense for the microfic I've had sloshing around in my mush brain

Steve hadn't realised just how clumsy he really was until he found himself dating a vampire.

Okay... Maybe just about everyone around him told him so. Aka, mostly Dustin and Mike... sometimes Robin, too – but she is just as bad!.

And he isn't so much as dating Eddie, either. At least they haven't exactly clarified that one yet despite... ahem... doing everything dating people do... and then some as he harbours a still presumed-dead fugitive at his house until further notice.

Despite everyone (aka, mostly Dustin, Mike and sometimes Robin) thinking he's a clutz and an even bigger idiot, Steve knows it is his blood that's the problem.

A scraped knee while shooting hoops? Eddie comes to linger just inside the door with a blanket draped over himself like a dying king, standing there all panicked when he is supposed to be sleeping. A paper cut at work – half of Hawkins away? Eddie calls Family Video, yelling down the phone to Robin like it's a world-ending emergency.

He'd had a nosebleed a few weeks back, the first non-punch-up-induced one since he was in middle school and it had Eddie launching himself at him from halfway across the room during movie night.

He blushes every time too, thinking about how riled up it makes Eddie, even though he has more than willingly offered up his blood to him on... ahem... other occasions.

Steve tries to be careful the rest of the time.

But accidents happen.

"Shit!"

He drops his razor in the sink and runs his finger over a fresh shaving cut. He grumbles at his own reflection as he applies pressure. He was almost finished shaving too!

"You a-okay in here, Stevie-Bear?"

Even though he knew it was coming, Steve jumps at the sight of Eddie in his periphery.

"Just cut myself shaving," he chuckles nervously, moving his hand now to find a streak of blood smeared on the pad of his index finger.

And just as quick as he appeared, Eddie is taking his finger and sucking it into his mouth, smiling like a greedy kid with a goddamn ice cream.

#sparkly vampire eddie #(my eddie-is-a-pathetic-vampire tag)#vampire!eddie #steddie #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #lilys drabbles #stwgdailyprompt #🎶 guess who's back (back)... back with nonsense (nonsense) 🎶#this might be crap oops

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addisonstars · 3 months

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"and im going to keep on loving you"

@jegulus-microfic // day 31: lock // 465 words

very very lightly implied nsfw content? blink and you'll miss it

“Well love, this is it.” James says as he walks into their first house. Their house. Our house, James likes the sound of that. “Our house.”

Regulus walks through the front door taking in the beige walls and ugly couch and is already envisioning how to bring the space to life and make it not just a house, but a home. “Excitement isn't even the right word to describe what I’m feeling right now. I am so much more than just excited.”

“Me too Reg.” James looks around the house once again, really taking in the space that is theirs now. “It needs a bit of work, but I’m ready.”

Smiling, Regulus sits down on the crusty couch and orders some food for a little ‘celebratory night.’ “Nothing fancy, but I did manage to snag some champagne.” He says, holding up the bottle he stashed in his tote bag.

“Perfect.” James leans in to kiss Regulus, but Regulus pulls away.

“Not so fast love,” he wags his finger at James, “the food will be here in less than 20 minutes, and do you not remember what happened last time we got carried away when we ordered food?”

“But-”

“No buts.”

James nods, albeit a bit disappointed. “Well, at least I can kiss you wherever I want now. No more hiding in bedrooms because Sirius didn’t want to see us.” They both laugh, because they do remember the many nights that James and Regulus would kiss domestically in the kitchen or living room, and Sirius would audibly gag.

“And, we don’t have to lock our bedroom door at night either.” Regulus smirks.

“I like the way you think Reggie.”

Their food comes shortly after, and they pop open the bottle of champagne. Regulus gives James a green light, and James can’t take his hands off of Regulus. It feels a little gross doing it on the dirty couch, so they take it up to the bedroom, where they don’t lock the doors.

/ / /

Years and years and years later, people would talk about the couple who lived down the street, who were so clearly in love. People would watch the two men adopt a daughter, and foster more than one cat.

People would catch them dancing and kissing and laughing in the rain, and then reading and laying next to each other in the sun. And if you were inside, you could see them baking in the kitchen and having dance parties in their living room to old 70's and 80's music.

They would hear screams of joy when they had their friends over. They also hear the long phone calls at night when one of the two had to be away for work.

But whatever it was people saw and heard, they could feel the love.

well, this is it folks, the end of this little vingette series! i had a lot of fun growing thier realtionship, and kinda watching my verison of them come to life <3 until next time lovlies!!

#james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #regulus x james #sirius black #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #lock #addisonstars #addisonstars mircofic tag #addisonstars jegulus microfic tag:

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starchaserwrites · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic / march 14: choice / word count: 558

Stab it, strangle it, scoop out its gut, throw it off a cliff... it repeats over and over in his mind.

Four chains, three double crochet, three chains, repeat four times...

The first few times Pandora tried to teach him how to crochet were a total failure. The wool got tangled, the stitches were either too loose or too tight and picking up the crochet hook was a problem on its own. But since he learned to crochet, Regulus takes his knitting wherever he goes.

Today in particular, he has taken it upon himself to bring extra balls of wool, as he intends to be productive in the nearly three hours it will take him to travel by train from Liverpool to London to visit his estranged brother after nearly five years. And no, of course Regulus isn't nervous. That he's gripping his crochet needle tighter than necessary and knitting furiously has nothing to do with it. He doesn't even notice when the seat next to him is taken.

One, two, three... nine double crochets, his hands move skilfully creating new rows.

He has been trying to finish this tote bag for an eternity and... What the hell is that?

There are no mistakes in knitting, only design variations, the voice of his best friend echoes in his head.

Well, clearly Regulus made a mistake several rows back that's making his granny square look more like a rectangle, and there is no way to make it look intentional. With a huff, he has no choice but to start pulling the wool to undo his failed progress.

"No!" an urgent voice protests from his right side, leaving him confused.

Regulus turns his head slowly, scowling and ready for a confrontation, which is quickly forgotten when a pair of warm, honey-brown eyes open wide and stare back at him. Regulus frowns even more deeply.

"I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to intrude, but it's just that you were doing something beautiful and you took it apart so fast I couldn't help myself and-" the man continues speaking hurriedly but Regulus is more focused on the way a lone curl of brown hair covers part of his forehead, and his hands itch eagerly to touch it to find out if it's as soft as it looks.

"Yeah, never mind," is all the answer he gives before resuming his knitting slightly flushed.

Three chains, three double crochets-

"Where did you learn how to do that? I mean, crocheting. It's really cool, you got me hooked, you know what I mean?"

Regulus stares at him for a long moment refusing to let the ridiculous phrase have any effect on him.

The right corner of his lips betrays him and rises against his will.

"My name is James. Oh, and I need your surname to know-" Regulus merely covers James' mouth with one hand and his own face with the other.

"We'll see about the last name. I'm Regulus, and please stop saying all those embarrassing things."

It's safe to say that Regulus invested his nearly three hour journey very well getting to know this now not-longer-stranger... but once again he didn't finish the bag.

And well, big is their surprise when they find out that they are going to the same place to see the same person, but that's a different story.

In case you are wondering about the crocheting chant

#ode to my own uncompleted tote bag #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #microfics #marauders #len writes

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kittykatkatelol2 · 10 months

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"You better not break his heart." "who?" "both of you." Jegulus Oneshot

Prompt by @jegulus-microfic (prompt: expose)

Regulus felt so vulnerable like this.

He was shirtless as James kisses down his collarbone and chest.

"Gods you're so perfect.."

James mumbled against Regulus skin, his chest specifically. His lips going over the scars there.

Regulus doesn't say anything, just savoring the pure sweetness of the moment.

Regulus feels like he was being worshiped with the way James was treating him.

"All your scars, all of you, is just perfection.."

James mutters, leaving one last kiss on the surgery scars.

"I know you don't think very highly of yourself, but gods you are perfect."

James whispers as he moves his head back to face Regulus

"James, god, must you be such a tease?"

"It's all part of the fun, baby."

They really shouldn't be doing this. It was the middle of the day, they had classes in an hour, Sirius could literally walk in at any moment.

But they didn't care.

They just did.

Regulus wrapped his arms around James neck, his hands in James's hair.

James gripped Regulus's waist.

They both just stared at each other for a few moments. Just gazing into each other's eyes.

And then they kissed.

Which turned into making out.

James was a few seconds away from taking it even further when the door to the Gryffindor dormitory opened.

"Heyy, James, I have a question- oh my god."

Sirius said, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw the scene before him.

"SIRIUS DONT YOU KNOW HOW TO KNOCK??"

Regulus shouted at Sirius, feeling overly aware of the red marks James had left on his chest and top surgery scars.

The two quickly pulled away from each other, blushing a deep red.

They had never felt this vulnerable in their life, and Sirius just *had* to walk in.

"Oh my gods," Was all Sirius could say.

"I um surprise ?" Regulus says extremely awkwardly as he hastily put his shirt back on.

James followed suit with Regulus and quickly threw his shirt back on.

"You.. you both.. oh my god.."

"You can stop looking like you are about to have a stroke, Sirius-"

"YOU AND MY BROTHER WERE ABOUT TO FUCK..! YOU BROTHERFUCKER!" Sirius yelled, more confused than angry.

"We weren't-"

"James don't even bother. He saw, too late to go back now." Regulus cuts off James before turning his attention back to Sirius.

That was it, their secret was exposed and made known to Sirius, he knew now that his best friend and brother had been seeing each other behind his back.

Regulus refused to be told 'no' by his brother. He wasn't losing James, and James wasn't losing him.

"We aren't doing anything you and Remus aren't already doing."

Regulus states, giving a death glare at Sirius.

"Like that's reassuring-"

"This isn't an argument. You are my big brother, not my boss; and you aren't James's boss either. We are both old enough to be able to do things without your permission, Sirius."

Sirius opens his mouth to argue, but seeing the look on James's and Regulus's face, he closes it again.

"You better not break his heart," Sirius says coldly after a moment of silence; glaring at the two.

"Who?"

"Both of you."

[Word count: 492]

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #james x regulus #regulus x james #trans regulus #regulus black #james potter #sirius black

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static-radio-ao3 · 4 months

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@jegulus-microfic // december 16 // prompt: eyes closed // words: 481 // frat boy james au: part 1 + part 2 + part 3

"You're staring," James says, voice somehow fond and smug at the same time.

If you could see him, you'd understand why Regulus was staring, even if he'll always deny it. James, cheeks flushed and nose red. A few stray snowflakes are caught in the mess of his hair, snapback long giney, but they melt rapidly with the temperature change in the cafe. James looks handsome like this. He always does, but well, Regulus can't tell him that, now can he?

"I'm literally not," he counters. "My eyes are closed."

James turns to face him, making direct eye contact. Regulus squeezes them shut so hard he sees stars for a moment.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Driving Home for Christmas plays faintly in the background as they make their way to their table. Theirs, as in, the same one they sit at every week for their study date. Emphasis on date rather than study, but it's the thought that counts (it really isn't).

"The house wants to do a Christmas event," James says once they've ordered their drinks. "Probably next weekend. I think the idea is to either collect money and donate it directly, or use it to buy gifts and then donate those."

"That sounds nice. Are you doing another kissing booth?" He hopes the question comes out neutral.

"Well, I'd need to ask you, wouldn't I? You're the old ball and chain now." He pauses when the waitress returns with their drinks. Flashes her a smile in thanks and eagerly curls his hands around the steaming mug. "Besides, I need to make sure we actually collect, since we don't have you to bankroll our entire charity project anymore."

Regulus rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he sees the inside of his skull. James is so very lucky Regulus is love with him. "Are you ever going to let that go? You're almost worse than Barty at this point."

James tilts his head in consideration, ponders it for a moment or two. Then, "Probably not."

With a huff, Regulus reaches for his own mug of hot chocolate, but before he can grab it, a cold hand circles his wrist, tugging at him until he's facing James.

"What," Regulus mutters. James laughs, but it's a puff of air more than anything. He's about to say something, sorry or I love you or sweetheart, but stops when Regulus lifts his free hand.

He curls a finger under the thin gold chain James is wearing. Notices how goosebumps erupt on his neck when his cold fingers touch the skin there. A single tug on the chain and James sways forward, like how the tide follows the moon. Easy.

Regulus is about to tell him as much, but then James closes the distance between them. Cold chapped lips find his and Regulus feels warm all over. Doesn't even need to squeeze his eyes to see stars.

#frat boy james returns #although slightly less insufferable #it's a christmas miracle #ino said he missed frat james and laurie mentioned frat james the other day and i am but their humble servant #frat boy james au #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #my wrtitng

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sophie-hatter-jenkins · 4 months

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Hoody

Written for @hinnymicrofic December 2023 - Prompt 27

So - this got quite a lot smuttier than I expected! It isn't the first smut I've written but the first that I have posted here, and warnings do apply.

It is definitely NSFW, there is some fairly graphic sex and a bit of bad language. When it goes in AO3, It’ll be at least M rated. Consider yourself warned!

It also isn’t terribly Micro - though this seems to be a theme with my microfics!

Harry sits in the field hospital tent, stripped to the waist. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and he’s suddenly tired to his bones.

The mediwitch attending to him pokes and prods him with her wand. There’s a nasty slash, right through his robes and down his bicep. It’s deep. Diffindo, he thinks. It takes the witch a while to repair the muscle and close it up. Then there are a few more cuts and grazes, across his knuckles, along his cheekbone. When she’s done with all that, she checks the bruising that wraps around on his abdomen. It stretches over his stomach and obliques on his left hand side, and it’s already darkening rapidly. That one, he’s sure, was Bombarda. He winces as she palpates the soft, tender tissue.

“No internal damage,” she tells him, eventually. “Not much I can do for it I’m afraid.”

She hands him some pain potion, then confirms there’s no broken bones either, so that’s something. Merlin, he hates Skelegro.

“Am I good to go?” he asks. She nods. He puts the shredded, bloodied remains of his shirt and robes back on, thanks his ministering angel, and leaves the tent.

Three weeks, it’s taken. Three weeks to track, infiltrate and dismantle the potions gang. Three weeks of surveillance, disillusionment charms and setting up dummy buys. Three weeks since he’s been home. He misses Ginny and the boys - so much. But it won’t be long now. All he can think about is getting home, getting back to them.

But he isn’t quite done yet, because Robards is lurking outside the tent. Harry isn’t surprised. It’s standard operating procedure - do the debrief ASAP, while everything’s still fresh. He can’t even be pissed off about it, since he’s the one that wrote the standard operating procedures in the first place. At least there’s a mug of coffee for this bit. It’s shit coffee, but it’s hot, and it’s better than nothing.

He walks Robards through the whole thing. They’d got the bastards in the end, but not without one hell of a fight. Intel on the layout of the lab and warehouse facility hadn’t been totally accurate (bloody Dawlish. Harry would be having words), hence the fighting. And the field hospital.

When he’s finished, Robards gives him an appraising look. “Have you given any more thought to what we discussed last month?”

Harry shrugs. He’s been putting off thinking about this, using the excuse of needing to focus on the case. But that isn’t going to wash any more. “When do you need an answer?”

“I can give you to the end of the week. Then I’ll need to offer it to someone else.”

“Noted.” Harry presses his lips together, feeling conflicted. He hopes Ginny will understand why.

They sip their coffee in silence for a moment, then Harry asks Robards whether he has any spare forms for the custody paperwork. Robards takes pity on him. “Ah, get home to your wee lassie. I’ll sort it out for you.”

It’s almost eleven o’clock when he gets home, crunching up the path to the cottage from the apparition point in the dark. Lights on, though - Ginny’s still awake. Warmth spreads through his chest at the thought of seeing her.

He pushes open the door. She’s curled up on the sofa, wearing his old Gryffindor hoody, though it’s miles too big for her. Her legs are bare, hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. She’s conjured a ball of soft yellow light to read by, and it’s hovering just over her shoulder, warming her skin and highlighting the freckles that dust her cheeks. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked better.

As soon as she sees him, she bolts off the sofa and hurls herself at him. “You’re back! Thank Merlin.”

“Yeah.” He breathes in the scent of her, warm and comforting and so familiar. Feels himself relax, letting go of tension he didn’t realise he was carrying. “I missed you. So much.”

She hugs him tighter, and he winces a bit. She feels it, and lets go, looks at him a bit more closely and clocks the blood on his cheek, the damage to his robe. “Oh fuck, Harry! Are you hurt?”

He shrugs. “A bit. But you should see the other guy.” It’s a shit joke, but she laughs anyway. “Seriously, I’m fine. Nothing major,” he reassures her. Not this time, anyway, he adds silently, pretty sure she’s thinking the same.

“Hungry?” she asks. “I could make some toast or something?”

He shakes his head. “I just need a shower. And some sleep.”

She nods, takes his hand and leads him up the stairs. Hands him a towel. He pokes his head into the nursery while she turns the water on for him, watches two little chests slowly rise and fall. It makes his own chest hurt a little. But in a good way.

He takes his time in the shower, scrubbing away dried blood, wondering how much of it is his. He thinks she might join him, but she doesn’t. Instead, she uses the loo and brushes her teeth. When he heads back to their bedroom, hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist, he finds her sitting on the mattress at the foot of the bed, facing the door. Her eyes land on the bruising on his side.

“That looks nasty.”

“Just superficial.”

She’s still wearing his hoody. He wonders what she’s wearing underneath it.

“Well now, Potter. Why don’t you come here and find out?” she suggests, which is when he realises he wondered out loud.

The answer, he soon discovers, as he tugs it up over her head, is a pair of knickers, pink striped cotton, and nothing else. She’s been sleeping like this, she explains. She feels closer to him that way.

“But I’d have made more effort if I knew you were coming home,” she laughs. Just at that moment though, he’s struggling to think of anything sexier, as he takes her hands and pulls her up to meet him craving the contact of her skin against his.

He drops kisses along her collarbone and runs his hands greedily down her back, until his fingertips meet the hem of her knickers, slips them down over her hips, revelling in the way his hands fit so perfectly over the curve of her bum. She sighs with relief, then nudges his chin aside, reaching up to find his lips with hers. Her mouth is soft and open and tastes of mint toothpaste, her tongue dancing against his, their kiss deep and insistent.

Her hands skate down his chest, and his skin feels so much more alive for her touch. She presses herself firmly against him, fingers dropping lower to tug away his towel, and god he’s missed her, missed this, so so much. He’s hard as hell, and she rocks up against him, making him twitch and gasp at the pressure.

He pushes her backwards until her calves make contact with the bed. She falls, sprawling across the blankets, giving him a filthy, lazy smile, eyes dark, daring him to join her. And well, he never could resist a challenge, could he?

He kneels over her, kissing his way up her thighs, feeling her shiver below him. Thinks about taking her over the edge with his mouth, but tonight, he wants to watch her, properly, and lets his fingers settle between her legs. This, he knows how to do, with a practised and familiar ease, and she’s so very ready for him. She breathes in sharply, burying her face into his shoulder as his fingers dance over just the right spot, side to side, with a steady pressure and rhythm. She pushes her head back, eyes closed tight, squirming against him, but he takes his time, bringing her closer and closer. Then he twists his hand so that his thumb is circling her, slipping two fingers inside, finding her slick and hot, and suddenly she’s there, throat and chest flushed red. She bites down a groan in the back of her throat to stop herself crying out, the way she always does since they had the kids, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the fascination of watching her come apart like this.

“Please,” she whispers, and he can’t deny either of them any longer. He shifts his weight so that he’s above her and a moment later, sinks deeply into her, feeling her still pulsing all around him. She clings to him as he rocks back and forth inside her, muttering her name over and over into her ear, losing himself in the feel of her until he’s tumbling, uncontrolled into blissful oblivion. Suddenly, he feels the weight of three long weeks apart lifting. Now he feels whole again. Now he’s home.

Afterwards, they lie quietly together. He should be sleepy, but he isn’t. She’s nestled in against his shoulder, his arm curled around behind her, idly stroking the curve of her breast. They chat for a while about her work - the matches she’s covered, the frustrating office politics, an opinion piece on the new management at Puddlemere that he managed to read while he was on stakeout. She tells him that a glossy magazine wants to commission her for a series on the future of European Quidditch, and he tells her (again) how bloody proud he is of her.

“I wanted to tell you straight away.” She looks at him with a small, sad smile. “I hate it when you’re away.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “What if I wasn’t?”

“Wasn’t what?” she asks, her fingers intertwined with his, playing absentmindedly with his wedding ring.

“Away. Again. In the future I mean.”

She rolls away and props herself up on one elbow so she can look at him. She’s frowning - not in anger, just confusion. “What does that mean?”

He takes a moment, because he knows once the words are out, he can’t take them back. It stops being his problem, and starts being theirs, and he still struggles with what feels like burdening her - anyone, really - with his shit. He looks up at the ceiling.

“Robards offered me a job. A new one. A promotion, actually.”

“Okay. What sort of job?”

And so he tells her - how he’s been badgering Robards for months about hiring more people. Came up with a plan for how to do it and everything. How Robards took it to Kingsley, and Kingsley took it to the Wizengamot. “It’s massive, Gin. Too many people to just train on the job like before. There’s going to be this whole new training academy. And… and Robards needs someone to run it.”

“And that would be you?”

“If I say yes.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to do it?”

“I… I don’t know.” He searches again for the right words. “I love what I do right now. I love making a difference. Sometimes I think I’d miss it too much - being out there, catching the bad guys. It’s all I’ve ever done.”

“And the other times?”

He doesn’t reply straight away. Thinks about the slash to his arm, the bruising on his torso, Diffindo and Bombarda and shield charms a split second too late. Thinks about the two small boys asleep down the hall, about Ginny, warm and yielding, lying next to him. “I wonder why the fuck I haven’t bitten Robards’s hand off for it yet.”

He feels her laughter on his shoulder, just a puff of air. “I get it,” she tells him.

And then he realises - actually, she really does. He turns to look at her properly. “You miss playing?”

“Every day,” she nods. “But what I don’t miss is the residential training camps, the overseas exhibition match tours, every bit of my body aching, the constant bludger injuries. I certainly wouldn’t swap being here for the boys to go back to it. And also - I love writing as well. If I had to give it up now, I’d miss that too.” She reaches over and runs her hand down his jaw, fingers in his beard. “Different doesn’t have to mean worse, you know.”

And she’s right, isn’t she? Of course she is. She asks him to tell her more about it, so he does - his plans for recruitment, what the trainees should study, his ideas on how to mix practical and theoretical training.

She laughs at him. “Okay, Hermione, time to lay off the polyjuice.” He pretends to pout, but actually, it’s a fair cop. “You actually sound excited about it, you know,” she observes.

“I… I kinda think I am.”

She smiles encouragingly. “Harry, I’m not going to tell you what to do. We’re a team, and I’ll support you whatever you decide. For what it’s worth though - you’re a great teacher. The new recruits would be lucky to have you. And you being here, every night, with me and the boys, all of us together? Isn’t that what we always wanted?”

He’s quiet again. Then he grins at her. “You wouldn’t mind having me around a bit more?”

She laughs at the absurdity of the question. “I’d love it! Of course I would! We all would.”

“Okay then,” he tells her. “I’ll tell Robards tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, a soft breathy sort of laugh. Draws her back into his arms, knowing it’s all going to be okay. That with them, it always is.

#hinny microfic #hinny #harry x ginny #harry potter #ginny weasley #fanfic

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siriuslystarbucks · 4 days

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Saudade

For @prongsfoot-microfic prompt April 10, 2023: Saudade

A/N: This is not a happy one! They're married to other people and pining for each other

Visually, nothing is separating them. James is looking at Sirius, and nothing obstructs his view. Sirius is looking at James, and he can see him with perfect clarity.

There are no physical barriers. There's nothing stopping either of them from reaching out to make contact for the first time in years.

But something stills their hands, the same thing that prevented them from being together the way they want-- and have wanted since they were in Hogwarts and didn't quite have a name for their fascination with each other. They had a few blissful years together, years that ended when James's parents found out about them and resulted in them losing everything. No romance, no sex... no friendship. The feelings never left, couldn't leave if they tried. Society keeps them apart. Their families. Their career ambitions.

He's so close, Sirius thinks. It would be easy to take a few steps and reclaim the love that's always been his, but it wouldn't be as easy to throw away his future, the life he's built. He considers it anyways, just as he does every time he sees James.

James's wife says something to him, but he barely notices. He loves her as much as he can, but there's no denying to himself that it's less than she deserves. He only hears what she says when it's Sirius's name-- "Is that Sirius Black?" He glances at her, sees that she is looking at him, and nods.

"Wow, I haven't talked to him in ages. Let's go say hello." She starts in that direction, and James is pulled along. Is she dragging him? No, this is the effect Sirius has always had on him. He's a magnet, and James is a hapless piece of metal, never able to free himself-- never able to even think of it as being free, because nothing feels better than being with Sirius; it's not a cage, being in love with him.

Sirius sees them approach, of course. He's been looking at James this entire time, transfixed. "James," he says when they stop walking and stop in front of him. His tone is too reverent.

He swallows thickly, his feelings a lump in his throat that he has to work past. One word, his name, and James isn't sure he can do this. How can he stand here and pretend that he's fine with this distance between them? But there are people around, and he can't make Sirius wait for him, so he opens his mouth and the only thing that comes out, in a tone equal to the one just used, is, "Sirius." He can't say anything else. He tries to make another word come out-- anything-- but his name is the only thing that came out, and it stays that way.

#prongsfoot #bambibelle #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #my writing

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magswrite · 4 months

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prompt: locket (december 12th). 837 words. @jegulus-microfic

Sirius doesn't want to run into Regulus. Really—he goes to the edge of the lake for another reason entirely, simply to stretch his legs after a long day. He definitely doesn't wander closer to the edge when he sees his brother lounging against a rock, eyes gazing out to the sun, setting low over the water.

He definitely doesn't curl into Regulus' side when he makes a whistling noise, beckoning Sirius' Padfoot form closer.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asks, lips pulled into a semblance of a smile.

He scritches Sirius' ears with his left hand, something tangled within the other.

“Where do you come from? We didn't learn about you in Care of Magical Creatures."

Sirius shakes his head slightly, or as much as one can as a dog. It earns an unnerved look from Regulus, who must perceive the action as unnaturally human.

“Nevermind,” he whispers, dropping his hand off Sirius' head. For a moment, Sirius chases it, missing the pleasant feeling of someone's pets—something he attributes to animal instinct.

Instead, he lifts his hands in tandem, fingers wrapped with something silvery and thin. Regulus' eyes flick first between the object, which Sirius still can't identify (at least as a dog), and then back out to the water.

He rests a moment there, before he glances back down at whatever the object is. Then, he extends his arm upward, and the object—a necklace—falls from his fist, glinting in the sunlight.

“Gorgeous,” Regulus states. “Isn't it?”

It takes Sirius a moment to realize he's still talking to him, that no one has joined them on the lake's edge. Sirius does his half-nod again, resting his head onto Regulus' outstretched leg. Animal instinct.

Then, Regulus' smile flickers, infinitesimally. “I think I'm going to give it back.”

Regulus holds the locket lower, as though Sirius would care what it looks like.

(He does, of course—why is his brother so obsessed with some locket?—but Regulus doesn't know that.)

Sirius glances at it, the locket's appearance all too familiar, and he tries to scour his mind for which family heirloom it might be.

“I don't deserve it, really. Not when I can't—”

Regulus' voice comes out as a choke, and suddenly Sirius wishes he weren't a dog. Or that he weren't there. Either way, it feels all too intimate.

“I can't leave,” Regulus states again. “He says that Sirius won't mind, I know but—”

His ears rise instantly, at his own name. Regulus seems to notice, and his hand comes to the back of his ears again, weaving into the fur there.

Regulus wants to leave?

It was only so long ago that he left Grimmauld himself. Sirius didn't take Regulus with him—he knew Regulus wouldn't want to come, anyhow. And it was harder to get the both of them out.

Sirius knew that'd been an assumption, though. That he was wrong, back then, for not asking him to come, too.

“Sirius never asked me, y'know,” Regulus continues. “And...he says Sirius regrets it.”

Sirius suddenly aches not to be a dog. But it's not a transformation he can make, not when Remus still has his secret. Instead, he whines, as though it's any sort of fitting response.

Regulus' eyes snap to him. His eyes are red-rimmed. "You have some sort of opinion, yeah?” He states softly, fingers scratching again. “Dora says I'm overthinking it. Everyone has an opinion,” he grumbles.

Sirius whines again.

“And maybe I am,” Regulus continues. He still holds the locket, dangling it in front of Sirius' nose. He recognizes it from somewhere—he has to, but he can't seem to find it within his mind. “Maybe I am overthinking it. Maybe Sirius will be okay with it, yeah?”

Another whine. Regulus falls silent a moment, eyes soft. Looking at Sirius with some sort of suspicion.

He drops his hand. Curls the locket back up in it. Gently pulls himself away from Sirius, standing as Sirius sits back onto his hind legs, gazing up at Regulus.

Then, Regulus takes the locket, and pulls it back around his neck, tucking it beneath the neckline of his robes so that only the chain is visible, a slight glimmer upon his skin.

“That's what James says, anyway,” Regulus whispers.

He. James.

Regulus starts to walk away, back to the castle, before Sirius can fully process the name. He just sits there, a moment, and watches Regulus' retreating figure, before it hits him like a wave.

He'd been thinking the locket was some old family heirloom—Walburga's or Dorea's, or some other Black widow who'd had it then lost it. But the engravings on the surface were far too plain, for a Black heirloom. And while its silver coloring fit, the stone inlaid in the center didn't—a ruby, more fitting for a Gryffindor than—

Sirius' mind starts back up again, and his legs move after Regulus mindlessly, his bark echoing over the darkening lake.

The locket. It hadn't been a Black family heirloom at all. It hadn't been Walburga's.

It'd been Effie's.

#jegulus #microfic

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phoebe-delia · 1 year

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Prompt

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: prompt. I'm doing something a little different here. I hope yall enjoy this. It's self-insert, technically, but in a way I think could be fun. We're going meta, folks! Rated M!

I put my laptop aside and thunked my head against the couch cushion. "This is useless."

"What is?" Harry sat down next to me, sipping from his cup of water and setting it down on the coffee table.

I turned to look at him. "This fic. I can't think of a prompt."

"Have you checked the—"

"Yes, I checked the microfic prompts. They're all great but I've already done a lot of them and the others haven't sparked anything specific yet." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why can't you and Draco do something interesting for me to write about?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why can't you come up with something interesting for us to do?"

"Like each other!" Draco called as he walked in from the next room. Harry snickered as Draco approached us and sat next to Harry on the couch.

I rolled my eyes. "Draco, for the last time, I'm not interested in writing smut. As much as I might love to read it, and adore my writer friends who do, it just doesn't inspire me creatively."

"Mmm but we get pretty inspired, don't we, Potter?" Draco took Harry's chin in his hand and brought their lips close.

"We do," Harry murmured, leaning in and kissing Draco.

I wrinkled my nose. "Can you not? Or at least do that in another room? I'm trying to be inspired to write something about you two idiots and your making out isn't helping."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh as if you don't love it. But—fine. We shall delay our mindblowing sex in order to help you pay appropriate homage to our relationship."

"How generous," I said dryly. "Now help me!"

Harry pursed his lips. "Have you tried listening to music?"

"Yeah, but all the songs I listened to I've either done already, or didn't really hit me right," I said. "Can't you two give me ideas? Just—give me words or short phrases that you might like to see me write about for you."

"What makes you think we know?" Harry asked. "You're the writer!"

"Phoebe, and I say this with all due respect," Draco drawled. "As both a manifestation of your writer's block and one of your—what's the word? Blob?"

"Blorbo," I said, smiling amusedly.

"Yes, that," Draco said waiving a hand at me. "What a ridiculous term, but anywho. As a beloved blorbo, I must remind you that you cannot force a good story. Inspiration strikes when it comes, and neither Harry nor I can tell you what to write. We are yours to place in infinite scenarios, but seeing as we exist entirely within your own mind, we are unfortunately no more informed about writing prompts than you are."

I narrowed my eyes again. "You're right, but entirely unhelpful."

Draco smirked. "I'd call that a job well done. Anyway, I'm bored of this. Harry, darling, care for a shag?"

Harry's eyes lit up. He nodded. "Let's go," he said, letting Draco pull him to his feet. They jogged toward their shared bedroom. "Good luck with the writing, Phoebe!" Harry called over his shoulder before they slammed the door.

I cringed and cast the strongest silencing spell I knew at the door. I picked up my laptop. "Useless," I muttered, and refreshed Tumblr once more.

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jmagnabo92 · 2 months

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Snippet Game

Thanks @lovelymasks

Here a snippet of a 'microfic' that isn't quite a microfic in which James has returned and he and Remus have a bet on who can get a kiss from Sirius first.

***

Something is up. Sirius knows it.

Things have been strange since James’ return, but something has changed in the last few days. Suddenly, now, it’s not just Kingsley hitting on him (despite him pointing out the trouble they’d get into if he did get involved with the bloke he’s chasing), he’s getting hit on by Remus and James.

At first, he thought they were just being a bit friendly since most of the order are rather stand-offish with him, and they know that he’s a bit touch starved.

It’s nice for them to give him side-hugs and throw arms around him. To run their hands down his arms and ruffle his hair.

It’s comforting.

Except, well, he doesn’t get it.

He’s not the man he was before. He’s a total mess and he’s not as attractive and – and well, who would want to deal with that?

Plus, Remus never showed any interest before and James, well, he chose Lily, so why would coming back change that? Unless he’s lonely?

He supposes that could make sense.

Still, he wouldn’t want to burden either of them with his problems. It’s best to just accept the affection but keep a distance.

For now.

***

Open tag! :)

#sirius black #james potter #bambibelle #prongsfoot #hp starbucks #starchaser #microfics

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jaylienpotter · 9 months

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2nd of August Jegulus prompt: constant, by @jegulus-microfic

(Word count: 1,158 ok maybe this one isn't a microfic, I might've gone overboard, oops. Hope u still enjoy)

Enough

"Hey Reggie. I've been looking for you." James went up to kiss his boyfriend but was gently pushed away. "Did I do something…?"

"I can't- I can't deal with this…" Regulus's voice slightly broke, which was highly unusual for the youngest Black.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jamie looked into Reg's eyes, looking for an answer.

"This- This constant pressure and fucking anxiety! I'm never good enough no matter what I do!" Potter was about to retaliate but the Slytherin was not finished "I'm not strong, nor resilient, nor dedicated enough for my mother. I'm not brave and good enough for my brother. I'm too closed off but then I'm ignored if I try to talk, I just- there's no winning! There's no fucking point! I just constantly disappoint everyone and I'm going to disappoint you eventually and you're going to fucking leave me like everyone else!" Icy blue eyes looked away from worried brown ones. He didn't want to cry. But fuck was it getting difficult.

"Hey, I'm not going to leave you…" A tanned hand reached to cup a pale face, but it was pushed away.

"You say that now! When the war begins you'll go back on your word." It was true. James Potter wouldn't have a death eater boyfriend, no matter how much he loved him.

"You just have to join us, or stay on the side lines. As long as you don't side with Voldemort." The bloody encouraging smile was infuriating and Regulus snapped.

"You don't fucking understand, Potter! It's not simple like that! I'm trapped! I'm fucking trapped! Dumbledore won't trust me even if I wanted to join you and my parents would come after me. After Sirius. After you! The only thing stopping them is having an heir!"

"Nothing will happen! We'll be careful!" That was such a load of bullshit. The Marauders? Being careful?! When have they ever?! They lived off adrenaline and recklessness.

"We both know you bloody won't. You lot are fucking insane, you will go head into the war without caring for the consequences!"

"We're doing what's right!"

"For you!" He didn't want to sound accusatory, but Potter wasn't able to see the other side of the coin. "And it's great you're doing it. But I can't!" Voice cracked, much like the boy speaking. "I would be putting you in danger and betraying my friends!" Barty, Evan… They didn't have much of a choice either. Barty could be a tad lunatic sometimes but he wasn't a bad person underneath. He had always been there for Reg. They all have.

"You shouldn't be friends with bloody death eaters to begin with!"

"You don't fucking get it Potter! You will never! You're not part of a purist family! You're not a Slytherin!"

"You're not your family! Nor your house!"

"We get marked as evil the moment the sorting hat shouts Slytherin! We get constant comments and looks! Even from you! You fucking hate Slytherins! I'm a bloody Slytherin, Potter!"

"But you're different-" No. He wasn't going to have this crap.

"I don't want to be a fucking exception! And I'm your exception! The rest of the school sees me as nothing but a blood purist who wants to kill muggles! I don't give a bloody shit about them! I don't care if someone has muggle parents or pureblood wizards ones! I just want to be left the fuck alone!"

"You can ignore them! All of them! Prove them different! Everyone can make their own choices!"

"Not all of us! Sirius only left our house alive because our mother knew she had me!" If Regulus wasn't there to 'save' the name of the House of Black, Sirius would have been a goner. But they simply couldn't seem to understand that! "Sirius didn't 'escape'. Our mother let him go. It was convenient for her. Not having to deal with him anymore. She won't have that courtesy with me."

"Dumbledore will protect you! He will help!" Black scoffed. Albus Dumbledore. The one thing he agreed with the purists was that he was fucking insane, disguised behind words of wisdom and kindness. When in reality, he didn't care. He didn't give a shit about anyone. Not his students, not the muggleborns, nobody. He would sacrifice all of his allies if he saw fit. If it gave him power. Even if he was fighting for a good cause, he wasn't so different from the Dark Lord himself.

"I will not trust that old rag with my life, James. I'm sorry but I won't." Round glasses were pushed up and red lips turned into a line.

"So that's it? You're going to give up?" The desire to both punch and kiss this tanned boy was unreal. Couldn't he fucking understand that Reggie was doing it for the best?! Again, he was never good enough. Not even for his bloody boyfriend.

"I knew this would happen. I'm fucking stupid. I shouldn't have allowed myself to fall for you. And I surely shouldn't have accepted to date you." Dark eyes widened and James bit his tongue.

"Wow… Wow! Really? Are you bloody for real?!"

"We're both going to get hurt, Potter. You will break from not saving me. I will break from losing you." What the Gryffindor didn't know is that it was already happening. The small boy had been slowly tearing apart for the last several weeks. Anticipating this moment. Because nothing good in his life could last.

"There's still time! I can still-"

"No, James! You can't!" Fucking hero complex that wouldn't move for anything. One person could never save everyone. They were wizards, not bloody superheroes. "Hate me for what I'm going to say if you want. But I'd rather kill dozens of people than get you or Sirius killed."

"Reggie…" The expression of the oldest boy wasn't readable. It could be sadness, fear, disappointment…

"I think it's best if we part ways." Their hearts breaking could possibly be heard through the hallways of the castle. A tragic story of two people who deeply loved each other but weren't meant to be. The unfairness of the world splitting the ground beneath them.

"No, don't do this…" The next words were spoken in a different tone. They were soft, caring, and tremendously melancholic.

"You can't save me, love." That had been the first time Reggie called James that. He thought it many times before. But never out loud. "And I will not drag you down with me. You were the best thing that has ever happened to me." As a goodbye, Regulus placed a tender kiss on James's lips. Barely kissed back. Too stunned to react. "Take care of my brother for me." Potter only snapped out of it when the love of his life was walking away.

"No, wait! Regulus! Reggie, please!" Disappearing into the shadows, the Slytherin slid down to the floor and cried and cried. No matter how much he cried, it wasn't enough.

#i'm sorry #might've slightly drifted away from the prompt? Who knows?#james potter #jegulus #marauders #marauders era #regulus black #regulus x james #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #marauders fandom #dead gay wizards #harry potter marauders #the marauders #angst #marauders angst #sad marauders

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murderoushagthesequel · 11 months

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Exchange Student

for the first prompt from @jegulus-microfic!! invisible (493 words)

just a little corny high school romance because, why not?

Regulus has learned to start walking the hallways with headphones on, head down. Nobody will notice him either way, so might as well pretend the idea to be ignored was his, right? Every day is the fucking same. Wake up, be driven to school by Kreacher, ignore, ignore, ignore, study alone, return home to be ignored by his parents, and repeat. He's started to think he's invisible. If nobody ever acknowledges him, can they even see him?

Ever since Sirius left home, life has been rather shit, to put it bluntly. All Regulus has is his music and the promise of one day getting out of this shit hole some call a home. Today is no different. Typically, people steer clear of him in the halls. Nobody wants anything to do with Sirius Black's scary ex-brother. Unfortunately, the universe isn't so kind to him today. The first day of a semester is always awful.

"Ow! Shit," Regulus hisses, crashing to the ground suddenly, dropping his books.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, mate." Regulus notes an accent, looking up to find the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes on, looking rather flustered and staring right back at Regulus. His glasses are skewed from the fall. He reaches up to adjust them and smiles. And oh, his smile. Regulus practically falls over again. This is ridiculous, he chastises himself.

"Erm, I'm James," he holds out a hand and cocks his head to the side. James' features are sharp and defined, yet seem soft. He looks huggable. Ew, what the fuck, Regulus? His eyes are the color of hazelnuts, accented with flecks of gold that shimmer in the light. Regulus realizes he's been staring like an idiot and hasn't responded. James doesn't seem to mind, though.

"I'm Regulus," he replies quietly, shaking James' hand lightly. James has a firm handshake, he notes, and his hands are strong and warm. "Right, shit, sorry!" Regulus comes back to himself, remembering he's currently sitting on the floor of the hallway, now late to class, with his books scattered around him.

"No need to apologize, Regulus," James says, helping him gather his things. The way James says his name is magical, it makes his breath catch in his throat for a moment. "I'm sorry, today's my first day, and I s'pose I got a bit lost," he laughs. James' laugh lights up the whole hall. He gathers up the rest of Regulus' books, standing, and holding out his hand for Regulus to hoist himself up. James pulls him up like he's lighter than a feather.

"I uh- I can help you find your next class if you need," Regulus says. James smiles widely.

"I'd quite like that." James takes his hand and lets him guide him to the science labs. He tries not to freak the fuck out over it. He isn't invisible anymore, in fact, he's shining brightly. Maybe this semester will be a bit better than the rest.

#if you couldn't tell regulus is american and james is british #kinda hate this ngl #but #it is what it is #it's meant to be cheesy so #had to do justice to the DCOM #jegulus #jegulus microfic #microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black

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athenasparrow · 10 months

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A microfic series inspired by @jilymicrofics July Prompt List. All the times they touched...

Lay All Your Love On Me | Rating: M

Chapter Three | Beginning

Prompt: firm Summary: The first time Lily kisses James, he doesn’t even know.

Midnight patrol is Lily's least favourite shift. The wind outside rivals the mournful howls of Moaning Myrtle and the cold, a silent thief, relentlessly pursues her, determined to rob her of every ounce of warmth she contains. A frustrated huff escapes her lips as she casts yet another warming charm, seeking respite from the chilly air. Hands thrust deep in her pockets, she quickens her pace. This year's patrols are better yet somehow worse than before (for the very same reasons, nonetheless) and serve as a cruel reminder of their friendship —charming, lovely, endearing, yet unattainable. Nothing sucks joy from her very existence quite like the reminder of being friends . At least they weren’t fucking professionals.

Lily is so lost in thought, James’ commanding tone jolts her from her daze and she glares at a portrait that has the gall to laugh. She pauses at the corner, fingers grazing the comforting weight of her wand. How should she proceed? She briefly peers around the corner, careful not to be seen. She sees James’ (broad and delicious) back as he faces down three Ravenclaw upperclassmen, who stare stonily at the floor. Two wide-eyed first years – barely visible behind his towering figure – look on in awe as James thunders like an angry sea. Lily can’t blame them; if she had less control over her face, she'd spend the day gawking at him too.

A surge of admiration washes over her, sparked by James's protective stance against the injustice of older students tormenting younger ones. He’s undeniably attractive like this and she finds herself wanting him. It's neither new nor surprising, but she still finds herself annoyed. His authoritative voice only enhances her admiration (and her arousal). If it isn't for the expectation of her presence – he’ll worry himself silly if she disappears – she'd retreat, draw a bath and submerge herself in relief .

Sweeping her thoughts aside like fallen autumn leaves, she composes herself and makes her way over to him. The Ravenclaws are gone. "Alright?" she asks softly.

James's eyes, now devastatingly soft, meet hers. "Yeah, we're just going to walk these two back to their common room."

One of the young girls smiles shyly at Lily, and she sends a warm grin back. "What brings you two out so late?"

"Following in your footsteps," James teases before either of them can answer her.

"My footsteps?" Lily laughs as the first-years watch wide-eyed. "Isn't wandering around after midnight more your territory?"

"Not since they were in the library," James whispers conspiratorially, winking at the children. "Keep it up, and you'll become almost as brilliant as our Head Girl here."

When wide eyes find Lily, she blushes like a rose in full bloom. She hopes he perceives her reaction as embarrassment rather than deciphering the true reasons for her flush. Blushing at the attention of first years is appropriate. Her thoughts on James are not.

James carries the conversation effortlessly, his words as smooth as a gentle river, and Lily lets herself sink into the rhythm of his voice, humming in agreement on occasion, but only half-aware of the exchange.

"You alright?" James mutters, bumping his hip against hers, grounding her wandering mind. Don't shiver . They’re well on their way back now, having ascended two flights of stairs while she’s been stuck in her thoughts (fantasies, really, but that’s just semantics). I’m far from fine . I am completely and utterly taken with you and I’m too late . "Yeah, just thinking—"

James freezes at her pause and his gaze follows hers to the end of the hallway. Mrs Norris emitted a menacing, drawn-out meow, fixing them with her piercing stare.

"Shit!" James curses, gripping Lily's hand and yanking her— rather ungracefully—around a corner and behind a tapestry. The world outside the tapestry fades to a distant hum, echoes of footsteps and a muffled voice carrying on the wind like whispers of ghosts.

"Why are we hiding, James?" Lily murmurs, once she’s (somewhat) regained control over her wild heart. "We're allowed to be patrolling."

"Right! Shit!" James curses again , his voice strained. "Old habits die hard, I suppose." Discomfort radiates from his large frame. He doesn’t want to be this close to her. "Should we...?" He gestures towards the door.

"Not with Filch right there!" Lily hisses. "Then we'll definitely look like we're up to something."

They’re flush against each other in the confined space – breath ragged, hearts pounding – and Lily can feel every contour of his body. Her flushed face radiates warmth; his presence is exhilarating. James' warm exhale on her ear ignites a familiar heat between her legs. Surely, he must feel it—the rapid cadence of her heartbeat. They remain pressed tightly together, a tangle of limbs and she takes a moment to marvel at his proximity. Their bodies meld together like molten metal. They fit perfectly. And then she shifts again and feels it: he’s rock hard against her belly and twitches as she moves. Her cheeks burn as she steals a glance at him, but his gaze isn’t fixed on her. Instead, his head is tilted back, his lips moving silently, and Lily suddenly yearns to trace the line of his throat with her tongue.

Don’t read into it Lily chides herself. It's just a physiological response to being pressed against another body. It would happen to anyone. James pulses against her again, eliciting a responsive throb between her legs. She wants to kiss him. She can’t. Perhaps he's experiencing a random boner —guys get those all the time, right?"

He must notice her stillness, her abnormal breathing, her racing heart. He must mistake her internal tumult for something entirely different; a strained apology falls from his lips as he attempts to shift away from her (he only succeeds in brushing against her again). Lily doesn’t want his apology. She yearns for him to press against her more firmly, to trace the shape of him through his trousers. She longs to feel the heat, the softness, the hardness beneath her fingertips. She wants to guide him inside her and discover what it feels like to be consumed by him. Yet, she remains frozen, immobile. She can’t move; she can’t speak. All she can do is stand there, silently gazing at him as he composes himself. His face is tight and red in embarrassment and Lily wishes she could make him flush for entirely different reasons.

"It's fine," Lily squeaks before he could say anything. She holds her finger up, urging him to maintain his silence as she strains her ears. "He's gone, I think we're in the clear."

The first time James is pressed hard against her, Lily can’t even fucking appreciate it.

#jily #jily microfic #lily pov #james x lily #jple #james potter #lily evans #marauder era #lay all your love on me #athenasparrow

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