#excited regulus

[lulublack90]

Prompt 11 - Leave

@rosekillermicrofic September 11, word count 780

Previous part First Jegulus part

Barty and Evan had a strangely quiet morning. Regulus and James had disappeared and Pandora was just on her way out after declaring she needed to go see her psychic for a reading. Barty had given up telling her she was throwing her money away at charlatans as she’d always get so upset at him, and she was terrifying when she was angry. She’d spent an entire month stalking him once and jumped out at him to make him scream in public. One time he said her favourite author was a hack, and she’d cut holes in all the teabags. With Panda, you never knew what she was going to do. At least with Regulus, he stabbed you right in the chest with his viper’s tongue.

“So what do you want to do?” Barty asked, already bored with the quiet. 

“Well, I’m going to strip the beds for starters, probably do the washing up and hoover,” Evan said, heading for the bedrooms. Barty flung himself on the sofa dramatically and groaned. 

“You are so boring!” He squirmed on the sofa, something was digging into his back. He shoved his hand under him and, after a moment of fumbling, pulled out a light pink crystal, cut to a point. Bloody Panda! He threw it across the room and slumped back onto the sofa.   

By the time Evan came through, dragging the Henry Hoover behind him, Barty had fallen asleep. 

“Move!” Evan barked at him when he still hadn’t woken up, even though the Hoover was next to his head. 

“Ouch! Evan what the fuck?!” Barty yelped, pulling away from the Hoover’s nozzle that had been sucking on his side. “Uncalled for!” He hissed, rolling again when Evan tried to get him with it again. 

“You didn’t wake up when I came in, and you didn’t move after I asked you ten times, loudly!” Evan jabbed at him again with the hose. “Get up and go and make a start on the washing up!” Barty ran for it. 

He was up to his arms in bubbles when Evan came to see how he was getting on. He always put just that bit too much fairy liquid in the sink. Evan shook his head at the mess but picked up the tea towel and started drying. 

They’d just put the last dish away when Regulus came bursting through the door. 

“Sirius is letting me have his flat!” He gasped excitedly. “He said I can move in whenever I want! Look, he gave me the key!” Regulus held up a pair of keys and jangled them excitedly. “I mean he was a total prick before I told them I got kicked out, but then he hugged me. He hasn’t hugged me since we were kids. Guys, I think I might finally have my brother back!” He ran off into the spare bedroom and came back a few minutes later with a box labelled clothes. “He said I can stay there tonight. He’s going to go get me his and Remus’s airbed and James is going to come over tomorrow so we can go furniture shopping.” Barty had never seen his friend so excited and bloody joyful. The guy had fucking dimples. He’d had no idea Regulus had dimples, and he'd known him since he was eleven. 

“Wow, that’s…very generous of him, Reg,” Evan said with a forced smile. 

“He’s just going to let you down again, Reg,” Barty spat out. He’d lived through the Sirius years, he’d let Regulus down again and again. 

“No, he won’t. It’s different this time. We’ve both grown up, and we’re not in that house. It's going to work.”

“He’s just going to leave you again when you get too much for him, and then I’ll have to pick up the pieces again,” Barty couldn’t understand why Regulus was running into this head first. It wasn’t like him at all. He blamed James for this. Clearly, he was a bad influence. It was his fault that the Black brothers had been reunited in the first place. 

“Fuck off Barty!” Regulus’s voice was cold, but Barty could hear the hurt behind it. His words came crashing back to him. Shit, he’d gone too hard. “I’ve got to go, Sirius will be waiting for me,” Barty saw the tear that slipped from Regulus’s eye before he turned around and rushed from the flat. 

Evan slapped him on the back of the head. 

“You absolute arsehole. Only you could make such a pig’s ear of that,” Evan tutted at him and disappeared into the bedroom. Barty hung his head. Evan was right. He had a lot of making up to do.

Next part

[donotwishonme]

june 2: night - 457 words - @jegulus-microfic

James couldn’t be happier. The three of them, him, Harry and Regulus, are sitting on the couch, watching WALL-E. He had been anxious to introduce Regulus and Harry to each other, but all seemed to go well. Harry insisted on sitting in the middle. He’s currently leaning his head against James’ arm, already half asleep.

As the end credits begin to roll James gently shakes him awake, “Say good night to Reg, Haz. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“No!” Harry protests.

"No? Why not you already stayed up past your bedtime, remember our deal? You were almost sleeping just now.”

“Reg has to.”

“Really? You want Reg to bring you to bed?” James asks his son who nods furiously. He looks over at Regulus, gauging how he feels about this. Harry’s already in his pajamas, as part of their deal to stay up late, he only needs to brush his teeth, be tucked in and read to him before he goes to sleep. 

“It’s fine.” He stands up and holds his hand out for Harry to take. “Let’s go, bud.”

Harry hugs him, wishes him goodnight and hops off the couch to take Regulus’ hand.

He stays quietly sitting on the couch listening to the sounds upstairs. He hears the tap run; that’s Harry brushing his teeth. He listens to their steps walking from the bathroom to Harry’s room. He hears the ruffling of Harry’s blankets as he gets cozy.

After ten minutes of listening he goes upstairs to check on them.

“One more story, then. A short one, okay?” He overheard Regulus talk softly. When he reached the door he could see Harry, barely awake, snuggling with his stuffed lion wrapped in his blanket and Regulus sitting on the floor in front of him with three books for Harry to choose from.

A smile spreads over his face at the sight in front of him. He knew Reg must be great with kids, he has a cousin and a Goddaughter around Harry’s age that he sees frequently, but to see him interact so kindly with his own kid opens a new level of fondness in his heart for him.

It takes two pages before Harry is asleep. Regulus silently puts the books back on the nightstand and stands up. He silently pads across the room towards James, meeting him in a hug.

“What are you looking at, hm?” he whispers when he reaches James. He takes one more look at Harry’s sleeping form before he closes the door.

“Just my two favourite people in the world.” 

“You’re silly,” Regulus accuses him, “Harry thinks so too.” James hums, slowly nodding his head.

“Oh, Harry thinks so too,” he says seriously, “must be true, then.” 

[doomedtokill]

rosekiller strangers to lovers au where regulus drags barty to watch james play football and barty is never interested in the game but the pretty boy across the stand from him.

each home match barty goes to, the boy is always in the same seat across from him completely uninterested in the match, but every time he looks around he catches barty's eye. every week barty takes a seat closer and closer to him to eventually they are a row apart. barty ends up talking to him the whole match and instantly is obsessed with this strange guy called evan

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // february 7 // prompt: star // words: 1,416 // cw: referenced sexual content // part 1 + part 3

“So let me get this straight,” Barty says, pacing in front of the couch where Regulus is sitting with his back straight and his hands tucked between his knees. “You sucked off your ex in the bathroom, picked a fight with him because he wanted to return the favor, ended up hooking up with him and staying the night, and now you’re telling me he texted you?”

Barty ticked off every point he made, a full five fingers now held up in front of Regulus' face. Five offenses. Regulus fights to maintain eye contact but his resolve crumbles under Barty's unyielding stare. Barty Crouch Junior, a force of nature. If only he'd use his powers for good.

“That would be correct,” Regulus says after a moment of silence.

“And his name in your phone is do not fucking respond.”

“That would also be correct.”

“And what did you do?”

“I responded.” Regulus at least has the decency to hang his head in shame. He remembers how long it took his friends to piece him back together in the aftermath of Hurricane James.

Barty sighs, bone-deep and long-suffering. He pinches the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand and turning to face Regulus again. “Follow-up question: were you dropped on your head as an infant?”

Regulus perks up at that, because “Well—”

“Don’t answer that,” Barty says, voice clipped. “God, Regulus. Gold star for being a fucking idiot.”

“In my defense,” Regulus starts. He doesn't continue though. Lets the silence stretch until there is no give anymore. Barty cocks an impatient eyebrow. “He looked really good,” Regulus finishes lamely. A red flush crawls up his neck and Regulus is sure it makes the mottled bites and bruises on his skin stand out even more.

Barty stops pacing to shoot Regulus an incredulous look. “That’s such a bad excuse? He always looks good? If you’re gonna be dropping to your knees as soon as he's within a two-mile radius, just— don’t.”

“But—”

And really, Regulus isn’t sure why he’s about to argue. He absolutely should be kept away from James at all times and he’d been so good at it for a while, but then. Well. Before he gets a chance to argue though, Barty cuts him off again.

“Don't make me call Pandora. She will bring the list.”

That does shut Regulus up. A huge file with an annotated bibliography and an itemized list of why Regulus should stay away from James. They had used it against him before and it worked every time. This time though, he didn’t want his weaknesses pointed out to him just yet.

“Fine. I won't talk to James anymore.”

---

“And then you have the fucking audacity to text me?” Regulus asks, incredulity bleeding into his voice. James seems unbothered by it though, hip cocked against the kitchen counter and arms crossed over his chest.

“Would you rather I call you?” He asks.

Regulus whirls on him. “No! I'd rather you not reach out to me at all!”

“See, once again, I am finding that hard to believe.” James pushes himself off the counter and steps closer to Regulus. “Did celibacy make a liar out of you? Or did I fuck you so good you forgot all the things you said last night?” He keeps his voice low as he says it, but Regulus hears it loud and clear. He shifts under James’ sharp gaze. Eyes lazily tracking the way Regulus moves.

“I'm not fucking lying. Last night was a mistake,” Regulus lies. Because that’s what he does now. Apparently.

“Technically two,” James says. He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes stuck on one of the many bruises littering Regulus’ neck.

Regulus doesn’t need the reminder, he can feel the bites and bruises sting with every turn of his head. Hands pressed palm to palm and the two of them chest to chest. A leg between Regulus’ own and his voice so wrecked he didn’t realize it was his at first. James, softened by the low light in the room, all his sharp edges blurring into pleasure. The hum of a moan into the heated skin of his neck.

“Technically three,” Regulus murmurs, eyes getting hazy, but he catches himself a second later, straightening. “But that's not what we're talking about!”

“Isn’t it?” James cocks his head. A lazy smirk pulls at James’ lips. The sight makes something simmer hot in Regulus’ gut. “We seem awful good at making mistakes. Maybe they're not mistakes at all.”

“All of this was a mistake! From the beginning! We shouldn't have hooked up and we shouldn't have dated and none of this should've fucking happened. Not last night, not last year, none of it.” Regulus takes a heaving breath. Considers saying more, but then James cuts in with:

“Are you done?”

“What?”

“I asked if you were done.”

“I— Yeah. I guess.”

James takes a step closer again, boxing Regulus in against the table. He presses his palms down on the flat surface, one on each side of Regulus’ hips. He has to look up a bit to be able to look James in the eye when they’re this close. He always liked it.

“You know what, that would've hurt my feelings if I believed you. Although I guess I do think this was a mistake. In a way.”

The feeling of James’ breath hitting the side of his neck makes Regulus shiver. James dips down for the barest, briefest moment and drags his lips along the column of Regulus’ neck, tracing the path he laid out the night before. It takes Regulus a second to realize what James just said, too caught up in his closeness to register the words. He isn't prepared for the way that statement makes him feel, a sharp pang in his chest and a dull ache all the way down his fingertips. He curls them into fists, keeps them resolutely in his lap. But before he has a chance to react, James continues.

“See, I think we never should've broken up. Mistake number one.” James takes the smallest of steps backward just to be able to raise his pointer finger. Regulus misses the heat instantly. “And I think you shouldn't have left this morning. Mistake number two.” He raises a second finger. “And you know what they say about mistakes.”

He glances at Regulus thoughtfully, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

“Don't fucking make them?” Regulus asks.

“All good mistakes come in threes,” James corrects, a third finger now being held up.

“No one says that.”

“Maybe they should.”

“No, James,” Regulus shakes his head and leans back, putting some distance between himself and James. Or trying to, at least. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

James just leans into him more. Regulus goes a little cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. His focus is drawn to James’ lips instead. He remembers them pink and bitten. Stretched wide, spit clicking the corners.

“Come on, baby,” James hedges. “No more mistakes. Just me and you. And I'll be so good for you, good to you, I swear.”

His voice is molten honey, hot and sweet, and it sticks to Regulus’ skin like a physical thing.

And Regulus only has so much resolve. He unclenches his fists, allowing himself to reach out and touch. But the smooth fabric of James’ sweater is a poor substitute for the thing he really craves. It buzzes in his veins, a steady hum that's getting increasingly harder to ignore. There is no alcohol in his system to blur the lines he'd once drawn, he steps over them with his eyes wide open.

“You're addicting, you know that?” Regulus murmurs, mouth a few scant inches from James’. “Just can't fucking quit you. You and your Jamesness.”

Before James can reply, Regulus curls a hand over James’ throat and tugs him into a kiss. The buzzing in his veins quiets immediately, satisfaction rushing through them instead. It’s heady, kissing James again, even though it’s only been a couple of hours since their last kiss. James really is addicting. And Regulus is a weak, weak man.

---

is that a phone in your pocket or are you happy to see me [group • 4 members]

reg: hey guys....

evan: you're an embarrassment

barty: @panda send the fuckinf list

pandora: reasons why regulus should keep his dick in his pants and out of his ex [file type: PDF • 53 pages]

[adharastarlight]

Regulus, holding a knife against james' throat: you're dead pretty boy

James who just died on the spot: you think im pretty?

Regulus: you'd make a pretty corpse, i suppose

James sighs wistfully

Regulus internally: wtf? he is kinda pretty tho-

[noasmirrorball]

may i offer jegulus hot tub sex (snippet)

“On your desk?” Regulus asks.

“On my chair? Whatever you want, baby.” He hisses under his breath. Involuntarily, he moves his hips upwards, looking for Regulus’ hand but it simply rests on his thigh.

“But I want it here.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Would you?” He dares to ask. “Fuck me here, if I wanted it. If I gave you the choice, right here or nothing at all. Would you? In front of all those people? If we’re careful enough no one will notice.”

James’ eyes meet his own for a second, searching for some kind of joke on his face but there is none. Regulus is dead serious and he’d be down in a heartbeat. His mouth opens slowly,

“Yes.” James says.

[a-lilypad]

my lecture was so boring i managed to break through five years of writers block and i’ve written about 200 words which i know isn’t much but i’m super proud of myself for it

[james-sunshine-potter]

James was the kind of person to repeat stories without realising.

Regulus was the kind of person who would listen as if it was the first time.

[bri-cheeses]

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 6

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Previous part is here | Word Count: 591 |

-

The seventeenth of May arrived with a sunny morning that filled up the dorm room, making Barty blink in the bright light. He yawned sleepily and rubbed at his eyes, then cast a glance around their dorm. Someone had left the curtains open—it was no wonder the sun seemed so incredibly bright.

He moved on. Naturally, his gaze fell on a sleeping and peaceful Evan, whose blond hair was splayed out against his pillow as he rested. It was kind of a lovely sight to behold.

And in a flash Barty was wide awake, having just remembered what day it was.

Evan’s seventeenth birthday.

Barty hissed as his legs hit the cool air, but he didn’t let that slow him down as he clambered over to Evan’s side.

“Evs,” he whispered, garnering no reaction. “Evs. Evie. Evan. Rosie.”

Finally, Evan stirred, blinking softly.

“Oh,” he said when he saw Barty, a small smile working its way to his face. “Hi.”

Something pleasant fluttered in Barty’s stomach at that reaction, but he shoved it down.

“Happy birthday,” he said. He kept his voice low, not even entirely sure why, just knowing that there was some sort of spell going on here that he couldn’t break by raising his voice.

His attempts were rendered futile, however, as flash of panic sparked in Evan’s eyes as soon as he finished speaking.

“Sweet Salazar,” he cursed, pushing himself up in bed. The blankets tangled, but Evan didn’t seem to notice as he frantically searched his body for a black mark, borderline hysterical as he looked.

And then, all at once, Evan’s restless motions froze.

“Evs, what—” he began, but Evan cut him off with a shake of his head.

Barty followed his gaze to his right arm, where a streak of black covered the inside of his forearm. Evan stared at it wordlessly, blinking in shock.

Barty felt as if he had been sucker punched.

“Right,” he wheezed. “Look at that. You’ve got a soulmate.”

He smiled, but it came out twisted and tight. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he happy about this? Evan had been worrying about this exact thing for a week, and now it was here and so Evan could relax, but why wasn’t Barty excited about that?

“I’ve got a soulmate,” Evan repeated numbly. Barty forced himself to stand up.

“We should probably get to breakfast,” he said. It came out openly a bit mechanically. Seriously, what was wrong with him?

“Uh-huh,” Evan nodded. Barty waited a second, but he didn’t move, and he decided to just start getting ready. Evan would get out of bed eventually, right?

In the time in took for Barty to finish getting ready to go, Evan had managed to drag himself from bed, and Regulus had woken up as well. On a normal day, the dorm would be alive with sound, Barty chattering away and Evan offering commentary while Regulus tried his best to ignore them, only sometimes jumping in to say something. Today, however, the room was dead silent as they gathered at the door, waiting to go down to breakfast.

“Are you going to open the door or are you just going to stand there and stare at the handle?” Regulus asked, raising an eyebrow. Barty swallowed.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.”

Regulus snorted. “Oh, this is entertaining already.”

He could only guess at what that meant, so he didn’t even try. He just opened the door and started on his way to the Great Hall, Evan a silent presence at his back.

-

(Part 7 is here)

[jaylienpotter]

From @jegulus-microfic prompt "skirt" | 600 words

Part 1 of Let them be (can be read as a standalone)

Part 2 >

Let boys wear trousers

Regulus Black hated the Hogwarts uniform. Absolute despised it. He could hide his chest with spells or tight bras or bigger clothes - thankfully he had small breasts already. But he couldn't do anything about the bottom part. He had asked Dumbledore himself to wear trousers instead but he was denied, as it was "tradition" and "the school rules" and Ms. Black was probably "confused" - fucking prick.

He wasn't fully out. His friends knew and called him by the name he chose. So did Sirius and his mates. At first people slipped, calling him by his deadname and used she/her pronouns. It didn't last long, though. And thankfully it barely happened at all with his brother. None of their friends had a problem with it, thankfully. But it was still hard to connect to people. Fully connect.

Tears of frustration were running down his cheeks after he left the Headmaster's office.

"Black?" He looked to his left and faced a tanned Gryffindor with round glasses. Potter was Sirius's best friend. "Black, are you okay?" James got closer to the boy, his voice sweet and comforting, dark eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Dumbledore is a bloody fucking prick!"

"Regulus, what happened?" The people he was out to called him by his last name when in public, but they were close enough that others wouldn't hear.

"He won't let me wear trousers. Transphobe. It doesn't even make sense! Some girls don't like skirts! It's such a fucking stupid rule!"

"Hey…" two big hands rested on his shoulders and he looked up for the first time. "It's okay, we'll fix this somehow. I'll talk to Mcgonagall, she can convince that old man sometimes."

"You can try but it probably won't work…" Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Black pulled himself together. Like he was taught. "It doesn't matter. I'll be fine." That was a lie and they both knew it. Still no one said anything as he walked away.

Pandora was lovely. She did her best to cheer him up in the dorm but the fact that he was sharing with a girl brought him dysphoria. Regulus didn't belong there.

It's an understatement saying that he was shocked when he saw James Potter strutting confidently into the Great Hall for breakfast wearing a skirt. What the fuck was he doing?!

"Potter. Why in the name of Merlin are you wearing a skirt?! You're going to get detention!"

"See, Black, I am protesting. Until girls are allowed to wear trousers, I will be breaking the dress code." He blinked. Regulus blinked twice. His heart stopped and the way he saw his brother's best friend suddenly shifted. He was protesting for Regulus. Getting in detention for Regulus. Most likely would face hate, all for Regulus. Yet he was completely unfazed. Potter wasn't stupid. He knew what he got himself into. But still, he did it anyway?

"But… Why? I mean- where did you even get the skirt??"

"It's Mary's. And I felt like it. Occurred to me randomly. Was bored so I thought 'why not start a protest?', you know?" That was a big fat lie and the Gryffindor wasn't even trying to hide it. He wore a wide smirk on his face. Gosh, how Regulus wanted to kiss those lips. Instead he just smiled. His genuine curved down smile, a rarity.

"You're gonna get in trouble, you know that right?"

"Since when do I, James Potter, the king of mischief, care about that?" That grin again. Black could stare for hours, take in every detail of the handsome Gryffindor's face.

"You're an idiot."

[julesart04]

[calamitoustide]

singer Regulus and music producer James who makes it his mission to someday make Regulus write a love song with him (he didn't think it would be for him but that's a big bonus)

[rabidlittlestrawberry]

I'll know it's you ch7 HEREEE

(yes I stole the summary from my last post)

((ENJOY!))

[lyr-caelum]

Regulus can’t sleep

[veritas-scribblings]

video - @jartylusmicrofics - words: 1,343 [explicit / NSFW]

[inspired by this post by @thatcoolguyeli]

The conference had been such a ‘drag’, as Barty would put it. Davide Bastelli, CEO of Bastelli Group, is a monolith of a man with impressively sculptured facial hair and little personality to speak of. He’s not so much grey, in any sense of the word. He’s more rough, chiselled slate stone—impressive to look at, expensive to purchase, but really that’s all. Even his accent, the lyrical way in which Italians speak that normally makes James a little weak at the knees, hadn’t been enough to counteract the aggressive boredom.

Actually, James had spent a ridiculous amount of the meeting trying to subdue his violent urges; a side effect, he thinks, of all the time he’s been spending around Barty. It had been around the one hour and fifty minute mark when James’s thoughts had taken a drastic swerve away from blood and gore and battered fists, courtesy of a text message from RegulusBarty.

There’s this game that Barty and Regulus like to play. It had started, Regulus says, when they were in school and he had admitted to Barty that he watches strangers simply existing and invents stories for them. Imagines who they are, their days and their lives, what adventures they’re going on and where they’re going on these adventures, and who they’re in love with and out of live with. And in his darker times, when they’ll die and how they’ll die and who they’ll leave behind.

Of course, Barty (being Barty) and taken this game and started to wonder what these strangers are like when they’re naked, when they’re having sex. What turns them on, what they’re freaks and unique kinks are, who they’ve recently had sex with, when they lost their virginity, what their O-face looks like, who would be their free pass.

James reckons that Bastelli is straight. As straight as an arrow, because no man that dull could possibly bend. It would be an insult to gays and lesbians and bisexuals and queers everywhere. Bastelli, James reckons, is a real sub in his sex life. There is no way he would wear the pants in any romantic dynamic. No man that tightly wound, that in control of himself, could ever continue to be so in bed. Bastelli for sure gets off on being dominated, and Barty and Regulus would have loved the challenge.

This is how Barty and Regulus had snared James. Because Barty had said to James that he strikes him as someone who is ‘vanilla in real life and an absolute freak in the sheets’ and had determinedly pursued confirmation. That’s Barty’s running theory: that the dullest people in real life are the filthiest in bed. James doesn’t think of himself as a vanilla sort of person, though he does like to think he’s a generous and creative lover.

He shrugs his jacket off, drops his bag by the door, stumbles over to the bed and falls face-first into the softness of the quilt and the sheets and the feather-down pillows. The Bastellis are filthy rich—Black Family Empire rich—and have put him up in the penthouse suite of what is likely a thousand-euros-plus-a-night luxury hotel in the heart of Milan. There is a fully stocked bar. A huge spa in the bathroom decked out with whirlpool features. A media room with a huge squashy couch and a thin-as-paper-big-as-the-wall television. A full kitchen with stainless steal premium appliances.

The bed is huge. King-sized. Enough room for James to comfortably fit three people, not that he has anyone to currently share it with. For the fourth time that afternoon, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out with a groan. The phone and the thought of what was in those messages being sent to him have plagued him all day. Ever since he had made the mistake of opening the first photo that Barty had sent using Regulus’s phone, and he’d seen Regulus spread out naked on their bed.

And the blood in James had rapidly drained south. And he’d had to quickly hide his phone, because he’d been sitting in the conference at the time right next to Bastelli’s personal assistant, who is nosy enough to have tried to sneak a glance.

James has all the plans of strangling Barty when he gets back, and not in the kinky sort of way either, because Barty would eat that shit up. It’ll be strangling in the ‘I’m going to actually murder you’ sense of the word. Because it’s day five, and James is tired and lonely and sexually frustrated. And Barty obviously knows this, because he’s spent the last five days sending James explicit photos with sentences like, ‘wish you were here’ and ‘thinking of you’.

And now James is ready to cut the business trip short and fly back home so he can join in, because he wantswantswants. Fuck the Bastelli luxury portfolio. James has other, more important, business to attend to.

It’s not a photo this time. It’s a video. James knows he shouldn’t open it; he probably should just delete it. Watching it will not solve his problem, nor will it do him any good. As it is, his trousers already feel so tight and, laying face down on the bed, the friction against his arousal is doing things for him. With a sigh, James flips over, toes off his shoes and socks and pulls his trousers off, discarding them by the foot of his bed. He reaches down to palm himself through his pants, a groan caught in his throat. He’s wanted to do this for hours now.

Realistically, James has always been the curious sort, the sort with impulse control issues. He thumbs the video open and is immediately greeted by the sound of skin rustling against a microphone. The movement of the camera is so shaky and blurry that James has no idea what’s going on—no, actually, he does—though he does recognise their bedroom.

When all the movement in the video stills, the phone having been rested on what’s likely the dresser, Barty gives him a shit-eating ‘cat who got the cream’ grin. He’s on all fours, staring into the camera, his erection full, glistening and hanging heavy between his legs. He’s sweaty and messy enough that James can tell they’ve been doing things for a while now. He can just imagine how it had all gone down: they’d been in the middle of something and either Barty or Regulus had stopped and said, ‘oh hey, let’s film this so James doesn’t feel left out.’ James wouldn’t put it past them to think that they’re actually being considerate.

In the video, Barty glances over his shoulder at Regulus, who is laid out on the bed behind him, his knees spread open so he can comfortably work his fingers into himself. Barty turns back to the camera and says with a breathy laugh, ‘we didn’t want you to feel left out.’

James quickly dumps the phone aside so he can loosen his tie and pull his shirt off. In his haste, he becomes tangled and tugs and struggles and squirms, and when he finally gets the shirt off his glasses go with it and he cries out in sheer frustration.

He can hear familiar noises coming from the phone. Regulus’s moans, which are always ‘from the depth of his chest’ deep, and Barty cursing up a storm, his pure and creative obscenities. James yanks his pants off and throws them onto the floor, and finally settles back against the pillows, his glasses securely in place so he can clearly see Barty on his knees, Regulus reaching behind to hold onto the headboard, Barty holding onto Regulus’s hips as he thrusts into him.

Lip caught between his teeth, James fists his leaking cock, works his hand up and down his length, squeezes firmly at the base because he knows he’s not going to last. The video is just over eight minutes long and James has every intention of seeing it through.

[sunonwaxyleaves]

After hanging out with Sirius’ little brother for a few months now - sometimes the three of them but more and more just the two of them - James first realizes he’s in love with Regulus on a summer night with cheeks warm from sunburn and sweet red wine. They’re on an old leather couch at a party Sirius is throwing at the Potter’s beach house, and Regulus rests his head on James’ shoulder with a deep, heavy sigh. Absolutely plastered, he mutters in defeat, “I think I’m now ready to admit that I’ve probably missed my chance at becoming a mermaid.” James wants to laugh until his stomach cramps, wants to kiss him on his peeling lips and point out that Regulus turns 21 in just one week, what does he mean he’s willing to admit this now, but instead he shrugs lightly and rests his head on Regulus’. He says in that cocky voice of his that makes far too many people swoon, “You’d be the prettiest mermaid of them all” and Regulus would roll his eyes even though James couldn’t see, he’d bury his head further into James’ neck, and tell him “Yeah, James, obviously”.

And then a week would pass, the morning of Regulus’ 21st birthday, and he’d wake up before anyone else and sneak out of the house for his morning run. Sometimes on the really hot days, like the day of his 21st birthday, he’d cool off in the ocean before walking back to the house, the walk long enough to let the sun dry him a bit.

Except this time was different.

Regulus runs and jumps into the ocean, does a few slow strokes atop the rolling waves, then promptly begins to scream bloody murder in the blink of an eye; his legs have become so heavy it’s as if an overweight adult man is clinging to him. He twists and turns his body, lifts his cement legs up to see what the fuck is going on, freezes, starts drowning, then screams even as his mouth fills with saltwater.

Where his legs are supposed to be - where they used to be - there is now a beautiful emerald mermaid tail with scales that glitter tiny rainbows like the polish on his finger nails.

A mile away, the split second Regulus screams the first time, James wakes from a deep slumber with a gasp so sharp it throws him into a coughing fit. He drinks from the glass of water on his bedside table and grabs his phone before leaning back onto the fluffy pillows, pulling up his messages to text the birthday boy.

(7:02am) Happy birthday Reggie!!!! 21 WOOHOO!!!!!

(7:03am) Are u back from ur run?? Do u want blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?

(7:04am) Had the craziest dream last night. Need to tell u all about it over some Potter Pancakes(;

(7:26am) Reggie??

(7:38am) Sirius said u never came back from ur run is everything okay???

(7:41am) Ur freaking me out Reg can u pls respond

(7:55am) Wherever u are: STAY THERE

(7:55am) I’m coming to find u. Call me when u see these, pls pls please

(8:06am) Where the fuck are you, Regulus?????